(Is that what this is? A relationship?)
(Yes)
But Patrick had seen Andrew’s concern, and fixed it, just like that. Patrick might comment how Andrew could see through him so easily, but Patrick was pretty good at that himself. They just seemed to fit together.
(Speaking of which, how incredible was that sex?)
(Incredible)
Andrew ran his fingers up and down Patrick’s arm, brushing that vein he loved so much. Yes, loved. Patrick saying it had set Andrew on fire. There was part of him, deep down, that was screaming it was too good to be true, that something was going to derail it, that something always came along to derail it. Every past relationship, not that there’d been many, was proof things didn’t work.
Wasn’t it like that for everyone though? Things didn’t work, until they did.
Patrick and him felt like it worked.
What about when he was back on the base, though? What about then? When he was surrounded by gay jokes and trans jokes and uber-toxic ultra-masculine bullshit?
That would happen when it happened, and they’d deal with it then. Patrick had taken so many steps that the very least Andrew could do was take a step and believe in him. In them.
“When are you meeting Christy?”
“Five.”
Andrew sat up. “Oh.”
“Problem?”
“Not really, but I do have a show tonight. I should probably start getting ready.”
“I can find someone else to watch Peter, if that’s the problem?”
“Can I watch him at my place? I can get a head start? If you don’t mind picking him up from there?”
“Not at all. I can meet Christy, pick him up, drop him off.”
“Did you want to come out tonight, and see the show?”
Patrick bit his lip, exhaled through his nose, looked away. “I don’t know.”
(There it is)
“Look, you don’t have to. This is part of who I am though. It’s part of the package, Patrick.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Patrick put his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “I know. She is beautiful, and you are beautiful, and I’m there for you as a queen.”
“You just made it seem like-”
“You mean you just assumed I-”
“”Can we stop cutting each other-”
Patrick kissed him, and if there was going to be something that stopped a conversation, that was all it took.
When he pulled away, which was never an easy thing to do, he yelled up for Peter. “Want to come see me transform?”
Peter came running down the stairs. “Really?”
“Oh sure, for that, he’s excited.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Don’t be lame, Dad.”
“I’m going to go meet your Mom, okay, champ? Andrew’s going to take you to his place while he gets ready, and then I’ll pick you up and take you home for school tomorrow.”
“I can stay by myself, you know.”
“So you don’t want to?” Andrew asked, and watched the war taking place in Peter’s head. On one hand, he clearly wanted to assert his independence and take care of himself, but on the other hand, he’d been asking for days to see Andrew get into face.
The other hand won, as Andrew knew it would.
§
An hour later, a freshly showered and shaved Andrew was sitting at his make-up table, with Peter sitting excitedly on the bed watching. It really was a different and amazing world, he thought, that an eleven-year-old boy, straight apparently, would find drag and make-up and fashion so fascinating. Andrew had too, of course, when he was that age, but he would have never admitted it. There were no drag races then, no Internet queens with fangirl armies.
“What do you do first?” Peter asked. “I mean, I basically already know how from watching TV but...”
“Oh you think you know, hey? Pull up a stool, mister. Let’s see what you can do.”
It went about as well as Andrew could have predicted, but it was a lot of fun. Peter tried to mimic what Andrew did, but it wasn’t quite there. Rather than get angry or frustrated though, Peter laughed at the increasingly clown-like face in the mirror.
“It’s just because my arm is broken,” he said. “If I had two hands, I could do it better, I bet.”
“Oh, I bet too,” Andrew said, and they laughed again.
“It’s harder than it looks, hey?”
“It takes a lot of learning, for sure. You could learn though.”
“That’s okay. I think I just want to watch it. Besides, drag queens are gay guys.”
Andrew looked at him in the mirror. “Well, Peter, that’s just not true. I mean, sure, mostly I am sure it is, but there’s no reason a straight guy couldn’t be a drag queen, if they really wanted to.” He paused. “And, you know, if they maybe had some good gay friends to help with their looks, because straight guys and fashion? No!”
“You mean like my dad, hey?”
“Exactly.” They laughed again.
“But I guess he’s not really straight anymore, right?”
“I guess not.”
“Do you think he was always gay?”
“I don’t know, Peter.” He set down his eyebrow pencil. “Does it matter?”
“No, but I just was curious.”
“Why didn’t you ask your Dad?”
Peter shrugged. “You’re just easier to talk to.”
“That’s good. He would answer you though.”
“I know. Do you think my mom is going to be upset?”
“I think she might be surprised, but I don’t think she will be.”
“I like you better than Brad.”
“That’s the guy your mom is seeing?”
“Yes. I only saw him twice. But he looked boring.”
“Sometimes, boring is okay.”
“You’re not boring.”
“Well, I would hope not.” Andrew smiled, and went back to finishing his eyes.
“Are you and my Dad going to get married?”
Andrew slipped and poked his eye with the pencil. “Ouch! That hurt!”
Peter laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine. Just warn a girl before you ask something like that.”
“So are you?”
“Peter, we have only just started dating, if dating is even what we’re calling it. When you’re older, you know it takes a long time before you’re ready to get married.”
“But you love him.”
“I do.”
“That’s good. I’m glad he met you,” Peter said. “He wouldn’t have let me dress like this, you know, if he didn’t meet you. He wouldn’t understand it.”
“People don’t understand things that are new to them. It takes time. You Dad loves you though and just wants you to be happy.”
“I want him to be happy too,” Peter said. “I’m glad he has you.”
It had been glorious when Patrick said he loved him, but that, from his son, was even better.
The buzzer rang. “That’s probably your Dad,” Andrew said. “Why don’t you go answer it and let him in?”
“Okay,” Peter said, and hopped up.
Andrew looked at himself in the mirror. Ann’s eyes were there, but the rest of the face was still just white. Normally, he didn’t like people seeing the in-between, but he guessed it was bound to happen eventually. Might as well get it out of the way. He stood up and brushed the powder off his sweatpants. There was nothing attractive about this, he thought, but what was a girl to do?
PATRICK
He got to the bar before she did, and downed a whiskey. He wasn’t scared, but he certainly was nervous. He looked around, and remembered the last time he was in this bar. He’d taken home that Maureen and couldn’t follow through. How much had changed since then!
She was here actually, he realized, sitting at the bar. That wasn’t awkward at all. The woman he’d had a half-night stand with, here when he was about to tell his ex-wife he was dating a man.
Looking at Maureen, he couldn’t fathom what he’d seen in her. It was drunken jealousy and denial that led him to her that night, and now, things just made sense.
Then he remembered that while he’d been trying to have sex with Maureen, there in her black halter and skin-tight jeans, Andrew had been out on a date with Kent that ended in far more successful fucking. That was a dagger in the heart. He didn’t want Andrew having sex with anyone else, ever again. He wanted him all to himself.
“You’re deep in thought.”
He looked up to see Christy standing over him, two whiskeys in hand. “What have I told you about thinking?” She sat down and handed him a glass.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said.
“What’s going on?”
“Drink first.”
She raised her glass and they clinked, and he flashed to the first time he reached his bottle across to clink with Andrew, that first night by the fire. Was everything going to go back to him?
“The trip was good?”
“It was.”
“I’m glad.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“What’s going on, Patrick? Peter is fine?”
“Peter is great.”
“Too much phone though, hey?”
“Way too much.”
“I told you.”
“What can he and Britney possibly have to say that they’re texting all day?”
“And you were worried he was gay.”
Patrick shrugged. “Can you blame me? I didn’t expect to come back to see my son so different.”
“But happy.”
“Yes. Happy. That’s actually where this started.”
“Where what started?”
“What I have to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“There’s not really an easy way to say this.”
“Patrick, just say it. We’ve been in each other’s lives for too long. Nothing you say can possibly change that.”
“I’ve learned something about myself this summer,” he said. “And it wasn’t something I ever suspected or anything, but it happened, and there it is.”
Christy sipped her whiskey. “What are you doing? Coming out?” She laughed, and looked at him obviously expecting him to laugh too, and he watched the colour drain from her face when he didn’t. “Holy fuck. That’s what this is?”
“I guess so. Like I said, I didn’t ever suspect.”
“Jesus, Patrick. Are you fucking with me?”
“No. I think I’m gay. Or bi, or something, but there’s more.”
She downed the rest of her drink. “Hit me with it.”
“I’m with Andrew.”
“You’re what? Like dating?”
Patrick nodded.
“Wow,” she said. “I didn’t expect this, that’s for sure.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t even know. I’m not thinking. Thoughts aren’t happening.” She looked at him. “You didn’t know before?”
“No.”
“So what? You just suddenly realized?”
“Basically. It just happened. I started hanging out with Andrew, and it was just to help me understand Peter, but then, it was more.”
“How much more?”
“A lot more.”
“Have you had sex?” Patrick blushed. “Holy fuck, you have. Wait! Andrew said he was a top. Does that mean...? Patrick felt the blush deepen. Christy howled with laughter. “Holy fuck. You’re the bottom, aren’t you?” She kept laughing.
“I take it this means you’re fine with it.”
“Fine with it? Hell, Patrick. I don’t care if you’re gay. I just think it’s fucking hilarious you’re the bottom.”
“It wasn’t so hilarious going in.” He laughed too. “Shit, are we having this conversation?”
“Seems that way. Do you need another one?”
He looked into his glass, surprised to see it empty. “Sure. I guess we better talk about this some more.”
“Damn straight!” She paused. “Well...”
“Andrew already made that joke.”
“Fuck me for being late to the party!” She waved down the server and ordered them another round. “Well, not fuck me, I guess, as the case may be,” she went on after the server left. “I certainly didn’t expect this.”
“What did you think?”
“That you were going overseas again, I guess. Or that you’d met someone, but you know, a woman.” She paused. “I guess Ann counts.”
“Is it weird for you?”
“Probably not as weird as that dick in your ass was.”
“Jesus, Christy!”
She laughed again. “Come on. You have to let me have a little fun with this. It’s not every day your ex-husband comes out.”
He glared at her, then realized she was right. He laughed too. “I guess not.”
Their drinks came and Christy took hers and sipped it, then set it down. “So is it serious?”
Patrick took a deep breath. “I think it is.”
“Wow. So he’s like a boyfriend then, not just a fling.”
“I guess, yes.”
“I’m happy for you, Patrick. I really am.”
“Thank you. I was nervous.”
“Telling me? Yah, I can see that. You had to know I’d give you a hard time.” She paused, and he knew that wicked glint in her eye. “Not as hard as the time Andrew is giving you, apparently.”
“You’re a pig, Christy, You know that, right?”
They laughed again. “At least I like him,” she said. “You could have picked someone I hate.”
“And Peter likes him.”
“Also a plus. I guess I need to introduce him to Brad now.”
“Things are good?”
“I think so. I mean, he’s not a cool drag queen like your boyfriend, but...”
“This isn’t going to stop, is it?”
“Not anytime soon.” She laughed. “My ex-husband, the big, butch army bottom.” She paused. “What about that? The forces?”
Patrick took another deep breath. “I don’t know. I hope most of the guys are fine with it? I mean, it’s not like it affects them.”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell?”
“Basically.” That wasn’t policy, but it was still an unwritten rule.
“I hope it works out.”
“I’m almost out anyway.”
“I meant with Andrew and you. I hope it works out.”
“Me too. He makes me a better man.”
“You were always a good man,” she said.
“I’m waiting for the punchline.”
“This time, no. Just the truth.”
He looked at her, her black hair hanging down around her shoulders, no makeup on, and a tear in her eye. “Are you crying?”
She wiped her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. Of course not.” She looked away, then looked back at him and laughed. “Shut up. Bottom.”
Patrick snorted. “Look, enough with the bottom shaming.”
“Hey, as long as you like it better than I did!”
“That was a disaster, hey? I think Andrew knows what he’s doing more than I did.”
“You mean he didn’t just shove it in?”
“We aren’t going into details on this, Christy.”
“Fine. You’re no fun though. What’s the point of having a gay ex if you can’t gossip?”
“I guess I’m just not that kind of gay.” Patrick paused. “I don’t know if I even would use that word.”
“Gay?”
“Yah.”
“But you just said...”
“I know, but really, it’s not like I’m just suddenly attracted to tons of guys. It’s just Andrew.”
“Jesus, Patrick, you sound like you’re in love with him.”
Patrick didn’t know what expression passed over his face at that, but something must have. Christy was looking right at him, and her eyes widened. “Jesus, you are, ar
en’t you?”
“I think I might be.”
“Well, fuck.”
“Yah.”
“That’s a lot to process, you know.”
“Oh, I know!”
She laughed, but it wasn’t as hearty as previously. “I guess you would, at that.” She lifted her empty glass to her lips then looked at it. “I’d say let’s get another, but really, I don’t think there’s enough booze right now.”
“You’re okay though?”
She sighed. “I am. Really, I am. It’s just...” She shrugged.
“Yah, it really is.”
She stood up. “Okay, well, go get Peter from your boyfriend’s place and bring him home. It’s a school night and all.”
Patrick smiled. “Thank you,” he said.
She looked like she wanted to say something else, but then simply closed her mouth and nodded. With a half-smile on her face, she turned around. Patrick watched her leave.
“Another?”
He looked up at the server. “No, I think I’m good.”
“I’ll bring your bill then?” she asked.
“Sorry?”
“The lady said drinks were on you.”
Patrick laughed and shook his head. “Yes, just the bill then.” Fuckin’ Christy.
§
Peter met him at the door of Andrew’s apartment. “How’s it going, champ?” Patrick asked.
“Good. We had fun.”
“I can see that,” Patrick said, taking hold of Peter by the chin and taking a good look at his face. “This isn’t quite your best look.”
Peter pulled away, laughing. “I was just playing.”
“Well, go wash off, k? We need to get you home.” Peter nodded and ran off to the washroom. “Andrew?” Patrick yelled. “Are you not coming out?”
“I’m only half painted.”
“I won’t judge.”
“You better fucking not.”
Andrew stepped into view and Patrick had to bite his tongue. He was shirtless in sweatpants, which was sexy as fuck, but that sexiness ended at the neck. “Well, don’t you look pretty.”
“Shut up.”
“No, really, you’ll be getting booked for Drag Race any day.”
“I said shut up.” Andrew slapped his arm, and they both chuckled. “So?”
Patrick nodded. “It went well.”
“Told you.”
“You weren’t sure though.”
“Mostly.”
“She did judge a little.”
A Fluid State Page 22
