“And bring shame on this family! Who do you think you are?”
“He’s a homosexual in love,” my brother answered.
“Go to your room!”
My brother folded his arms.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I can handle this.” He shared a cheeky smile, handed me the tea towel and ran off.
“Jamal,” she continued in a lighter tone, “what is wrong with you? Don’t you want children? Think about these things. How can you go out to a party with a man on your arm? What is he going to do, wear a dress?”
“Mama, his name is Farnham, and he’s not that kind of gay man. Besides, he’d look like Aunt Rihanna in a dress.” I shook my head. “Not a good look.”
“Jamal!”
Our doorbell rang. My mom grinned as if her cheeks would burst. My brother answered the door and instantly I heard a woman’s voice asking for me. He paraded her in. She stared at me like a sorceress with a spell to cast.
“Sweetheart, I’m taken,” I declared. I stormed out, only to hear my brother inform my failed blind date that he was single. Our neighbor, Guy, was on his driveway washing his car. He took one look at me and told me to come inside.
“Do I look that frazzled?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” he replied, turning off the tap.
*
“This is what she wants,” I began. I sat in what he called the counselling seat, the plushest armchair in his living room. “She wants me to be a good family member, marry some girl, any girl, and have kids while I screw men on the side. It’s the honorable thing to do. Everyone will know what’s going on, but they won’t talk about it. That way, no shame is on the family.”
“A medieval mentality in a twenty-first-century world,” Guy replied. He filled my wine glass. “And somehow I can’t see Farnham putting up with being the mistress.”
“Some woman that Mom invited just showed up at our place. She’s stunning, but my body doesn’t work that way!”
“Calm down, Jamal. Trust me, this doesn’t have to be complicated.”
“But it is. It is complicated. That family next door raised me. They were proud of me when I came second in my third grade spelling bee. They told everyone about it. Then when I was a teenager, they kept bragging about how many female friends I had. I can see my dad’s sly grin just thinking about it. And Mom’s right. What will he say when he finds out?”
“Surely he already knows.”
“I don’t know.”
“What would be the worst thing that could happen if he finds out?”
I thought, but the answer in my head rose like a toxic beast from a radioactive swamp. “I need more wine, Guy.”
He took the glass from my hand. “I don’t think you do. I think what you need now is to see Farnham.”
“I need a sounding board.”
“But your sounding board shouldn’t be me.”
I brushed my hair back with the palm of my hand, then stared in the direction of my parents’ venomous house. “Mama thinks I’m screwing you as well as Farnham. It’s the way her mind works.”
“Well, she has seen both of you visit me. How does she feel having a gay neighbor?”
“She puts up with it. My dad doesn’t seem to care. But he hasn’t seen me visit you.”
He sat back down, still with my empty wine glass in his hand. “You know, Jamal, the heart wants to protect those we love, while our head tries to protect ourselves.”
“I know. You’ve said that before.”
“Now think about those words as you drive to see the man that loves you.”
*
There’s something about blue eyes. You gaze into them as that person talks to you, but you’re really diving into their soul as their words float by. I caught him by surprise as for some reason he was home. He had no errands to run as he had claimed before I left him that morning. It was his way of protecting himself from my absence.
And even in his confident stance, I could see the small boy wanting more from his play friend. While here was I, the child who let everyone down. It’s a lonely place inside my skin. Elders judge my every move unless I seek forgiveness and play the role I was born to play.
But while I keep the peace, a huge grate skims my heart, taking off slivers as if it were cheese. It whittles away the love I once had to share with the world. And somewhere inside my body I want to scream, but those screams get muffled. What does it matter? I’m not sure I’m ready for anyone to hear my screams.
Here in his arms, though, I’m the chameleon whose fears slowly melt away to find clarity. He struggles to hide the distrust in his blue eyes. And I want those eyes to care again. I want those eyes not to dismiss me. I need to follow through this time and not let him down.
“Let’s dance,” I said.
“But there’s no music,” he replied.
“There’s a tune waiting to be written. It’s titled ‘Farnham and Jamal’, and if we touch and sway a little, it will write itself.”
“Are you on drugs?”
I didn’t answer. I shuffled my right shoe forward, followed by my left. I was a doo-wop girl making my way to my lover. And he smiled a smile I hadn’t seen in god knows how long.
I blew a puff of air on his face, which made him giggle, as I reached around his waist. We waltzed like amateurs. No one judged. No one minded. No one cared.
*
“Imagine both of us living in this apartment,” said Farnham.
“I can imagine that.”
We lay on his bed naked, my back against his chest. A breeze had begun, sounding more like a gentle ocean outside than a gust of wind. Trees rustled as if they were waking from their stillness, and a few stars gathered in the night sky to peek into our world.
“I’m serious, Jamal. You’re twenty-five, and you still live with your family. Imagine coming home to your own pad. We’d cook dinner together, fight over the bathroom sink, and complain about each other’s snoring. It would be bliss.”
“As long as you were near, I wouldn’t care if cockroaches set up house in the kitchen.”
“I could trim your beard hairs. With your beard and my nose hairs, we’d clog the sink like confirmed bachelors.”
“Yeah, and we’d change the sheets only when visitors complain about the stench.”
“Like I said, it would be bliss.”
“Hmm, it would be.”
“Then move in, darling. Move in with me.”
“Babe, I might just do that.”
On cue, my phone chimed. I ignored it. Thirty seconds later, it chimed again.
“I know you want to look, Jamal. I can sense it in your body.”
“How?”
“You’re tense now.”
“Farnham, consider this. Your mom is so cool. She’s had us over for dinner often, while your dad and your sister fuss over me. You have the life. Mine’s more difficult. I could lose my family, you know that.”
He coughed, more to clear his throat than as an involuntary action. “Can you stay here tonight?”
“You know I can’t. It’s a work day tomorrow. I promised my mom I’d be home on school nights.”
“It’s nice to know you keep some promises.”
“Don’t be like that, babe. That’s our arrangement, and trust me, I had to negotiate long and hard so I could spend Saturday nights with you. That’s our night.”
“Hmm.”
“What? That’s all you have to say?”
“Hmm.”
I wished we had a storm. We had only calm, but no storm. And there’s always something eerie about the calm. Farnham and I would normally have argued so passionately, our protests would shake the neighborhood. But tonight he was lobotomized. His kind heart, misplaced.
*
Although I parked in front of my parents’, I couldn’t go in. I wanted to know if Guy was still awake, so I snuck into his front yard like a spy and peered into his living room. His back was to me while candlelight accentuated his lanky outline. But that�
�s not all that was accentuated. I looked closer.
He had wings. They towered above him a third the length of his body. I stepped back, not meaning to, and then I huddled closer to the glass. I definitely saw an angel praying with a candle in his hands.
I ran to his front door, but I stopped myself as I was about to knock. What would I say? What would I do? I turned toward my parents’ place, but as I took the first step, his door opened.
“Why didn’t you knock?” he asked. His wings were no longer there.
“It’s late. I shouldn’t have come to see you at this time of night.”
“Nonsense. I want to know how your talk with Farnham went. Come in.”
He opened the fly screen, and I stepped inside. The candle was still burning on a side table next to his counselling armchair. “Guy, I think we broke up.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“That explains why you’re acting shell shocked, Jamal.”
“It’s been a strange night for lots of reasons.”
“Have you been home yet?”
“No, I needed a friend.”
“So, tell me what happened.”
I sat in the armchair as the angel crouched at my feet. A tear ran down my cheek, so I wiped it with the back of my hand. I heard fluttering, as if a bird had been startled. At the same time, the flame on the candle flickered.
“Guy, I think I fucked it up. He wanted me to move in but I acted cool and—” I wiped another tear away. “Oh, my stupid bravado.”
“Go on, talk.”
“Why am I scared to live my life? Why am I so scared of losing my family when all it’s doing is making me unhappy? Why am I tearing myself and those I love apart?”
“Farnham must be worth it if you’re putting yourself through this.”
With blurred eyes, I saw his wings again. I swallowed hard. “But what if it doesn’t work out and I lose both him and my family?”
He stood, jutting his wings out as a shield to protect me. “Jamal, let’s look into the future.”
As he folded his wings back into place, his living room and any hint of his house was gone. But I was still seated in the most comfortable armchair he owned. Behind him was the night sky as if we were floating in space, yet I felt the proper force of gravity.
As I peered into the darkness, two figures materialized. One was me without my beard while the other was Farnham, who’d grown a beard.
“What the —”
“Shh. Just sit and listen.”
“Hey, Darl,” said my boyfriend, “she’ll come around. At least your dad knows about us now.” In the vision, a kitchen appeared, and I realized the other me was peering into a pot on the stove. “Come on, stop moping. You’re where the love is.”
This image faded and in its place was a slightly older version of us. Historic buildings appeared in the background as we stepped onto cobbled streets. “If it wasn’t for you, Farnham, I would have never made it to Europe.”
“Oh come on, darling. It wasn’t all my idea. The moment I mentioned it, you were listing off the cities you wanted to see.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Well, what did you mean?”
“Never mind.”
I knew the smile on my doppelgänger. It was a smile that said I was at peace. The vision changed again, but this time in more detail. Funky furniture littered this enchanted stage, and we were on a grand lounge suite. I rested my head in his lap as I held a book. He had his attention focused on the screen of a tablet. We were plumper. Both with no beards. And my peaceful smile still reigned.
Guy fluttered his wings, causing ripples which washed this scene away. A party appeared in its place. Old-fashioned streamers were tossed around someone’s garden and about fifty people in various states of drunkenness were waiting. I knew some of them. Farnham’s best friend, Pete, stood with a girl I didn’t recognize. My brother drifted with his eyes half shut, until something caused him to clap. The rest of the party applauded instantly.
And out we came, a little thinner and definitely older. We kissed before Farnham stepped forward. He raised a glass of champagne.
“Thank you for all being here to celebrate our twentieth anniversary.” The crowd cheered. “It means a lot to me and Jamal.” He paused and breathed in. “You know, love doesn’t always pop into our lives the way we expect it to. We have the ideal man in our mind, but the ideal man is never what we expect.
“The ideal man is always better than we could ever expect. We know his neuroses, and he knows ours. We know that if the outside world gets too dark, we just steal a glimpse at our man and light will fill the room. And we know that whatever age he gets, he will still be the most beautiful man in the world, hands down.
“Okay, I know that sounds corny, but it’s the way I feel about this man. My man, Jamal.”
More applause sounded as I lowered my head.
“Are you crying,” the angel asked.
“No,” I replied. “Damn it. Yes, Guy, I’m crying, just a little.”
“Talk about it.”
“We used to say things like that, Farnham and me. He used to call me the most beautiful man in the world, and—”
“And?”
“He was my ideal man. And when my family haunted my thoughts, I’d look at him and it didn’t matter anymore, until Mama’s concerns got louder.”
Soon the starry sky returned, and Farnham and I were under it again. Tangled facial hair replaced the strands missing from our heads, and somehow between this image and the last, we’d lost more weight.
“Let’s dance,” said Farnham.
“But there’s no music,” the older me replied.
“There’s a tune that’s been written. It’s titled ‘Jamal and Farnham’, and I bet if we sway a little, we’ll hear it loud and clear.”
So these men danced in synch, like a pair who’d spent a lifetime together. And I heard the music.
“Your heart wants to protect those you love,” said Guy. “But who are you really protecting?”
“I’ve been protecting my family, to the detriment of the man I’m in love with.”
My neighbor’s living room reappeared as his wings faded away. “So who should you be protecting?”
“I know, Guy. I know. But what will my family say?” I stared at his far wall.
“You have a right to your own happiness, Jamal.”
“Can you show me how my family will react in the future?”
“I can, but I won’t. For nothing is written in stone. That is your challenge. You have to make amends as time moves on. But next door is your mother. A mother who believes she’s doing what’s best for her son.”
“You know, Guy, I can’t go home.”
“Why?”
I stood. “Because it’s not my home.”
He gestured to his front door. I strode confidently, stopped, and then turned to thank him. When I swivelled back toward the exit, I noticed my suitcase at my feet. I shook my head, lifted the luggage, and continued my journey.
*
I turned my key in the lock to Farnham’s apartment. There he was, deep in slumber. I undressed and carefully slipped under his sheets. He stirred.
“Jamal, darling, it’s a school night. What are you doing here?”
“Falling deeper in love with the man of my dreams.”
“Are you on drugs?”
“I may as well be. My head is light. I’m deliriously happy. And I know at last what’s best for me and those I love.”
When the Sun Shines
Kassandra Lea
The sky couldn’t have been any bluer that spring day, the white clouds floating across its surface. The world was still waking on the early May afternoon, a chill lingering in the gentle breeze. Birdsong filled the air, the robins and finches having returned to usher in the promise of warmer days. The trees were budding, early flowers blooming, and the water in the pond shimmered like a sapphire.
Lance Black took a step back, dusting off his hands, a faint smile on his lips as he admired his work. He wasn’t entirely sure what had given birth to the idea, but once it started bouncing around in his skull, he couldn’t ignore it. After all, it seemed like the perfect answer to the question plaguing him for the last week. His sweet beloved fiancé, the man who owned him heart and soul, had been caught in the waves of depression, some days barely managing to stay afloat. Seeing his suffering pained Lance, and he wanted to bring a smile to those lips he so loved to kiss.
A quick glance at his watch, a final check of the setup, and he was heading back across the yard. On his way, Lance thought for the umpteenth time how lucky they’d been to find the old Victorian with its couple of acres, complete with a pond and an old dilapidated greenhouse. For the last three years, it had been home. Lance had even popped the question under the birch tree by the glistening water on a cool October day.
They still hadn’t set a date two years later, but Lance was okay. He never truly understood what it meant to be in love until they met. If his betrothed wanted to take things slowly, he would happily wait. As his mama liked to tell him, all the best things in life are worth waiting for.
Lance slipped into the house, finding it quiet. Five feet in, he was greeted by their cat, a little ball of ginger fur. She meowed at him, weaving between his legs. Lance plucked her from the ground and headed for the stairs. Two flights later, he deposited the cat on the sofa in the tower room. The expansive window view allowed him an impressive sight of the prairie-forest mashup across the street. They’d spent so many winter nights in this room, void of any light source, watching it snow. He suspected, like the previous summers, they’d enjoy quite a few thunderstorms up here, too.
He leaned on the door frame, hands in the pockets of his jeans.
His fiancé, Jasper, sat in a chair curled up under a blanket, an open book on his lap. A neglected laptop sat on the coffee table. His short brown hair stuck up in an alluring just-got-out-of-bed way, which didn’t seem like such a far-fetched idea since he was still technically wearing his pajamas.
Men in Love: M/M Romance Page 11
