The Comfortable Shoe Diaries

by Renée J. Lukas

  Later I’d learn that Mr. Hutchins was on his way to meet a woman in Nova Scotia and, realizing his son Nathan was here, decided to land his private plane for a few days first. He’d also invited Nathan’s older brother, Harry. Mr. Hutchins thought his eldest son had never married because he was gay. When he’d gotten wind of the rumor that Bryan most likely was gay as well, he dialed up his son and had him flown in immediately.

  Harry stood at the door, a distinguished-looking fortysomething with a strong build and tanned legs that ended in leather sandals. He held a bag and looked somewhat confused, as if he didn’t really know what he was doing here.

  “Hi.” I gave him a hug. The last time I’d seen him was at Joanne’s wedding.

  Mr. Hutchins slapped Harry on the back and led him inside. “Harry, my boy, you’re going to witness a lesbian wedding!”

  Ellie and I cringed. We’d hoped to keep this an intimate event, not feel like we were in a fishbowl. It was becoming quite a tank now.

  “Oh, how nice,” Harry replied. What else was he going to say?

  “I want you to sit right down there and have some waffles.” Mr. Hutchins pointed to the space beside Bryan.

  Ellie chuckled, realizing what was going on.

  Joanne came out of the bedroom and seemed a little startled to see Harry.

  “Hi, Harry.” She set a bag down.

  Harry stood up and gave her a quick, stiff hug.

  “It’s been forever,” she said.

  “Yeah. It has.” He glanced away and took his seat beside Bryan again.

  I wondered. Joanne had done some theater years ago, and she kept falling for gay co-stars. I thought maybe she’d fallen for Harry a long time ago but never told anyone. I’d have to get the scoop later.

  “Here.” Bryan slid two waffles off his plate. “They’re whole wheat but sweet, not with that nasty aftertaste. I’m Bryan.” He extended his hand.

  “Harry.” The disoriented brother looked around and when Nathan came out of the other bedroom, he immediately scrunched his brow at his dad.

  “Hey,” Nathan called to his brother. “What’s up, Dad?” he asked.

  “Oh, well, you know. We were on our way to Nova Scotia.” Mr. Hutchins cleared his throat.

  “You were,” Harry muttered, drowning his waffles in syrup.

  Bryan’s eyes widened in disgust. “You might as well just slap the cellulite on your ass,” he said.

  Harry self-consciously set down the syrup.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Lions and Tigers and…Aunt Rita!”

  “I’m sorry,” Ellie said as we walked down Commercial Street. Luckily everyone else had hung out at the pool, so we could be alone to shop and argue. “I didn’t know about your aunt. When I told your mother, she said her sister would want to come, so I assumed she was cool.”

  “Aunt Rita is the opposite of cool. She’s one of those women who says things like, ‘You should act like a lady.’”

  “Oh God.” Then Ellie gave me an optimistic squeeze. “We won’t let her ruin our day, okay?”

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  Ellie had a reassuring smile that calmed me like gently falling rain. Of course, I mean a steady rain, not the beginning of a violent storm. That was my ex-girlfriend.

  And she had such determination, so much beauty that she couldn’t even see in herself. When I looked at her, I still had to catch my breath sometimes.

  I managed a smile too. “How much worse could it be than a guy who’s a hundred screaming, ‘Where are the gays?’” We laughed until tears ran down our faces.

  “I hope we’ll look back at this and laugh,” Ellie finally said. Then she got a strange expression. “That Mr. Hutchins is crazy.”

  “In which way?” I laughed.

  “Well, it’s obvious he’s trying to set up my brother with Harry. But it’s not like mating pandas. You put two of what you think are the same kind in a cage and they’ll go for it. Besides, I think Bryan has a small crush on your brother-in-law.”

  “That’s too bad,” I replied.

  “I know. He’s like I used to be with straight women. It’s a dead-end street.”

  Then she held my hand, and all of the drama floated away.

  I saw the street laid out before us as we looked for a place to find our wedding attire. Unlike the day before with all the commotion, I could really take it all in.

  In Provincetown everything that didn’t make sense out in the real world made sense all mixed up together—straight, gay and undecided; every language around the globe; people with no fashion sense whatsoever mixed with those whose life was all about fashion; families and flamers; dog people and cat people silently duking it out in the park, trying to prove why their pet was better; and those still trying to answer the age-old question, lipstick lesbian versus leather-studded butch or neither—all while dodging kamikaze bicyclists determined to take out a small child or pet, like targets in a video game.

  It was pure magic.

  “I can’t think of a place I’d rather do this,” I told Ellie, my eyes tearing up. There was a Jimmy Somerville song playing in my head and it reached a crescendo that made me burst inside.

  “Okay, get a hold of yourself.” She wiped my eyes and looked around.

  I held her hand in midair. “Nobody cares,” I reminded her. There was a guy in an orange wig jumping on a pogo stick. “I’m having a moment here!”

  After hours of being distracted by raunchy greeting cards and T-shirts that said “Cape Cod,” we finally found what we wanted to wear to fit the occasion and still make us feel like ourselves. It was so obvious; it was pure inspiration.

  The purple sunset peeked through our car windows as we drove back.

  “Now I know why you packed so much food. And glassware.”

  “Yeah.” She looked distractedly out the window at the glassy water of Truro Beach. Something was on her mind. “I’m surprised you never told your aunt. You’ve been out so long, I figured everybody knew.”

  Suddenly the serenity of sunset and the magic of Provincetown dissolved with a few small seagulls in the rearview mirror.

  The truth was, there were people I chose to tell or not to tell, the criteria for which I’d detailed in my blog. Aunt Rita was on the “No Way in Hell” list. Some of my old friends from my small central Florida hometown were also on the list, though I did take a chance with a few of them occasionally and was often surprised by their reactions. Some I’d thought would start waving a Bible at me were the ones who said, “Good for you. It had to suck being in the closet.” Wow.

  Then, of course, were the ones who seemed like your friend, who seemed comfortable with who you are and your gay friends—until you find out they’ve been squirming under their skin the whole time. That was Debra. Luckily, she wasn’t a surprise guest here.

  “You’ll be coming out for the rest of your life, Ellie.”

  She glanced at me, driving us back to the cottage. I knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but it was one part of being gay that would never be easy. Every time you started a new job and the conversation in the breakroom would go from business to what you did last night—you’d automatically know who was married to whom, who steals the covers in bed, things you didn’t want to know. Then they’d all look at you. The question was always loud in the long, quiet pause. Is she asexual? Someone who doesn’t have sex, like a Muppet? You’d be amazed how a topic people say they don’t want shoved down their throats comes up constantly among them, even when you just go into the breakroom to innocently get your bologna sandwich. The truth is, everything gets back to sex, who’s doing it how much, with whom. It’s what people are most interested in no matter what they say.

  “So how do you tell people?” Ellie asked. “I’m still a newbie.”

  “Don’t call yourself that. Any woman with the guts to leave a marriage to live honestly is no newbie. You’re braver than I am.”

  “But you were always out at work.”

  “Ye
ah. It gets a little easier, but not much. There’s always that moment when your heart starts thumping hard in your chest, wondering what the reactions will be. And I don’t mean what they’ll say, because usually they’ll always say something nice. It’s what they’re really thinking that you wonder about. There could be not one person you’d ever consider sleeping with where you work, but you worry if all the women now think you want them. I never do the dramatic, ‘I’m gay’ announcement. I try to make it no big deal, so they won’t. I’d say, ‘Oh, yeah, my partner and I took a trip there, and she got seasick.’ See? It gets across, you know?”

  Ellie smiled proudly at me. In those moments I could feel an admiration for me, whether or not deserved. But I could still feel it.

  “When did you know?” she asked.

  It was a long story, and the drive back to Truro wasn’t long enough to tell it. The truth was, I’d known I was gay when I was in kindergarten, even if I didn’t have the words for it. The teacher asked us to sit in a circle, and Bobby Goolsby kept trying to hold my hand. But I was trying to hold Katie Johnson’s hand instead. That should have been clue number one. Katie was a dead ringer for Olivia Newton-John and I followed her everywhere, even scooting my chair closer to hers at snack time.

  When I reached my teens, I had a new idol—Boy George. I watched Culture Club videos over and over again.

  One afternoon, Dad looked up from his paper and saw the video. “Is that a man or a woman?” he asked.

  “A man, duh. Geez.”

  Dad was horrified. “You like him?”

  “He’s beautiful!” I gushed. I figured I would definitely have to marry a man who wore eyeliner.

  “Uh,” Dad sighed. “I’m scared to see who you’re going to bring home.”

  Years later, we laughed at that, although I still think he was uncomfortable with the whole thing.

  I wished he could be here now to see that my life turned out okay, to see Ellie, to see how beautiful she was, how beautiful our life could be together.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Straight People in Their Natural Habitat”

  We stopped by the pool before going back to the house. Everyone was still there, talking at tables, kids splashing in the pool, and some in the Jacuzzi.

  Bryan leapt out of the Jacuzzi and sat on the edge, whether it was to show off his pecs to Harry or free himself from the choking clouds of heat.

  “So, real estate…” he kept repeating. I could hear echoes of their conversation.

  “Not residential,” Harry corrected. “I like to buy office buildings and resell them.”

  “Fascinating.” Bryan was clearly not fascinated. He turned and watched Nathan, who was busy arguing with Joanne at a nearby table.

  “I think he’s doin’ just fine!” Nathan’s voice echoed throughout the pool house, making the towel attendant jump.

  “He’s too young.” Then Joanne wanted me for backup. “Don’t you think Tayler’s too young to be in the pool without an adult? I think Nathan should go in there.”

  “He’s had swimming lessons,” Nathan added, trying to make his case stronger.

  “I don’t know.” I took the easy way out. Then neither one would hate me at my wedding.

  Nathan glanced at Joanne, and her look was all he needed to see. So he jumped up and went to the three-foot side of the pool to help his younger son kick.

  Mom dangled her legs over the edge as she’d always done. She’d had an uncle who was struck by lightning in a bathtub, so she never trusted water. It’s a wonder she ever went in the shower.

  “I can’t believe we have to fight over something so obvious.” Joanne shook her head and flipped a page from a magazine she wasn’t reading.

  “You have great hair,” Harry told Bryan.

  Those of us who heard immediately turned to watch the soap opera.

  “Thanks.” Bryan ran his hand through it, definitely the mating sign of the gay male.

  “Is Nathan close with his brother?” I asked Joanne.

  “Not really. He never visits.”

  “Huh.” I tried to figure out what the schism might be. Brothers were often competitive, but it seemed as though they were both successful. “Wonder why.”

  It wouldn’t take long to find the answer. Amidst the bubbles and fog of the Jacuzzi, I heard Harry say, “Uh, Bryan, you seem really nice. But I’m not gay.”

  Bryan slid back into the water. “I’m not gay, either.”

  “Oh,” Harry laughed. “For some reason I thought…”

  “You know, I get that sometimes. I don’t know why. I just haven’t met the right one yet.”

  “Me neither.” Harry laughed heartily, much like his dad.

  Mr. Hutchins, who was obviously hard of hearing, came over to the hot tub. “Seems you two are getting along nicely.”

  “Dad,” Harry said. “You didn’t drag me up here because you think…Do you think I’m gay?”

  “Well, son, I didn’t want you to think it would change anything between us if you were a fudge guy.”

  “What?”

  Mr. Hutchins stumbled over his words. “I heard some expression…now what was it? ‘Fudge…’”

  “‘Fudge packer’?” Bryan bristled.

  “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

  “That’s a very derogatory term,” Bryan said. Noticing their stares, he added, “I have a few friends.”

  “I’m not gay, Dad. I just have…bad luck.” Harry glanced at Joanne, and all at once I knew. He’d had a crush on her. That was why he wasn’t close to his brother!

  I could see it all in that one glance where he seemed to look at her and at nothing at the same time.

  “Did you ever like Harry?” I asked her later.

  “No. A long time ago a group of us went to happy hour at that little bar, you know, Later, Gator. He introduced himself, but I don’t remember a lot. I was too interested in his brother.” She watched Nathan in the pool, remembering.

  In a matter of seconds, Harry was out of the Jacuzzi, wiping off his trim body with a towel. Bryan hardly noticed; he was too busy watching Nathan with his son. All around I could see nothing but heartbreak. It struck me how the stars really have to line up just right for your biggest dream to come true.

  Then I glanced at Penny, who had told me she was now doing a hundred laps a day in the pool. She was on number eighty-seven, just kicking and splashing back and forth. It seemed kind of boring. But that’s how she was getting fit to meet her next possible star. I secretly hoped things would line up just right for her.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Harry said. “I know you meant well.” He held up his hand to halt any further conversation. He had a kind face and a quiet way about him. Mr. Hutchins said a few words to him I couldn’t hear. That night Harry took a private jet back to Georgia. He’d probably come up to see Joanne one more time before trying to move on. I’d later hear that was his intention.

  But Bryan refused to say he was gay. Ellie’s parents, who were both deceased, weren’t going to pass judgment on him like my Aunt Rita. He really had nothing to lose. So maybe he just didn’t like himself. He was a puzzle I wanted to figure out, although I thought I already had it solved.

  Later that night, Nathan seemed right at home grilling steaks. There was an unspoken rule among straight people—the guy grills, the woman cooks.

  “What did you get at the store?” Nathan asked.

  “I hope Ellie got the T-shirt I wanted,” Bryan said. “The light blue one that says ‘Straight but Not Narrow.’”

  “Uh, I think she did,” I stammered. “This one’s a surprise.” I raised my bag secretively.

  Cabbot tugged at my shorts. “Two women can’t get married.”

  “Hush, Cab!” Nathan yelled.

  “Who told you that?” I said, putting the bags down. I already knew the answer to the question.

  Mom was silently chomping on a bag of chips, watching the drama play out nervously.

  “You just can’t,” Ca
bbot said.

  “Yes, we can.” I stood tall, silently cursing my sister and brother-in-law for raising my nephews in a conservative neighborhood where they never saw anything different.

  “Damn right.” Bryan raised his glass. “If Kelly Ripa can have her own talk show, anyone can get married!”

  “I’ve already told them there are different kinds of couples,” Joanne insisted. “They just haven’t seen…that…a lot.”

  “Of course not.” I crossed my arms.

  “The hell they haven’t,” Mr. Hutchins chimed in. “You can’t turn on the news without hearing about the gays.”

  “Mr. Hutchins,” I began in my polite-but-not-really-polite voice, “it’s not the gays. That sounds like you’re talking about a species—like the Tanzanian Beetle!”

  “Calm down,” Ellie urged.

  “The gays sure are melodramatic,” Mr. Hutchins said to my mom. “Though I’d have been proud if Harry had turned out to be, uh, a homo.” He never could find the right language, and every time he reached for a word, the wrong one fell from his mouth.

  “Give that man some new vowels,” Bryan said to his drink.

  “I can’t calm down!” I shouted. “Cab and Tayler wouldn’t see anything but straight bigots in Greenwood Downs.” It was a gated place with cookie-cutter houses and a country club. The dues to join the club cost more than my car.

  “I think we all need to calm down,” Mom said.

  “You could do a lot worse than Greenwood Downs,” Mr. Hutchins muttered. He was sipping on a whiskey and sort of enjoying the arguing.

  “Calm down? Meaning me.” Furious, I stormed inside. Suddenly I preferred the company of little Tayler, who was talking to a toy truck that he was also slamming against the wall.

  I leaned against the counter. What was I doing? Did I really want to celebrate the most important relationship of my life like this? It wasn’t Cabbot’s fault. His dad had called him a “little heartbreaker” and a “ladies’ man” since he was six, just because he talked to some woman in a flower shop. He was sending his sons messages every day, just not knowing it.