Retired Queens
Bobby: Think you can help me with a project later?
Mike: Sure, what time?
Bobby: After lunch?
Bobby: Bring pie.
“Exhale.”
Lying in bed, I spun the card around between my thumb and pointer.
I had set it on the nightstand before dragging my exhausted butt to bed.
I slept like a rock, but when I woke an hour ago, my first thoughts were of lilacs and the sound of laughter.
Sammy had left an impression, and it continued to put a smile on my face.
I meant to download the app last night, but Edward regaled us with the time one of his Marine buddies accidentally set off riot gas in the chow hall.
What started as a story turned into a full theatrical performance.
By the end, I laughed hard enough it brought tears to my eyes.
Rose sat in her comfy chair knitting as if she had heard it a dozen times before.
I continued staring at the card, fixated.
The exercise might have gone sideways, but somewhere in those two seconds, I fell.
More importantly, I trusted. Few people had firsthand knowledge of Mabel’s alter ego.
I could wander the town in secrecy. My friends, on the other hand, their closeness to Mabel made them dangerous.
But this complete stranger only saw me, not the performance.
He didn’t know that his lack of awareness might be the blessing I needed.
I set the card on the nightstand and threw back the covers. As I sat up, I heard voices in the kitchen. Morning coffee, a ritual for the residents. They’d pick a house, descend, and mugs would be waiting. I couldn’t hide away for long, or Rose would barge in and throw open the curtains.
Thankfully, the in-law suite had its own bathroom.
Stumbling into the bathroom, I went through my morning routine.
As I brushed my teeth, I inspected the growing stubble along my face.
Every day, Mabel vanished a little more.
I hadn’t had a beard in years, but I thought I looked rather good.
Thankfully, I had stopped shaving the rest of my body years ago.
What I lacked on my face, I made up for on my stomach.
It was the only thing that kept me a card-carrying member of the bear community.
With a final rinse, I grabbed some clothes and poked my head out the bedroom door onto the front porch. I could see through the next doorway into the kitchen and found Firefly’s comedy duo quiet as they sipped coffee.
“Don’t think I don’t see you, young man.” Young man. I almost chuckled at the thought. Walter gestured to an empty spot at the table. “Get out here and join us.”
Walter and Harvey might be the only people with louder personalities than Mabel.
Figuratively and literally. When they got into a heated discussion, it became a spectacle, and the entire town bought tickets.
They could be anywhere from sixty to eighty, but had the energy of a toddler on a sugar high.
“No point in hiding,” Harvey said. “Have a seat so Walter will leave poor Rose alone.”
If I didn’t join for the conversation, I’d gladly pull up a chair for the coffee and fresh scones.
Rose’s love language wasn’t just baking; it was filling bellies.
The heartier the meal, the more satisfied the expression.
If locals didn’t show up at her door, dying to see what baked goods were warming in the oven, she’d wither.
No point in resisting.
Walter pulled out the chair and, without missing a beat, Harvey patted the seat.
In all my years, I had never met two men more in sync.
Their love for one another had become legend, and they didn’t care who knew it.
I wondered for years if they might be gay, but over time, I discovered they were the template for positive masculinity.
Two men old enough to be my grandfathers were perfectly happy spreading love and affection.
I kissed Walter on the cheek before taking my seat.
“And what am I, chopped liver?” Harvey leaned in, offering his cheek while pointing. I quickly rectified the problem. “Much better.”
Rose wasted no time setting a mug on the table and filling it with coffee. Before I could ask, she brought the sugar and cream. I had to smile at the chips in the porcelain. The imperfection said Harvey and Walter had become family and could make do with the everyday dishes.
“Other than the scones, what brings you over here?” I asked.
“Walter, do you remember when Mike used to sing at dinner?”
Oh, God. They came in with ruthless memories.
“Do I remember?” Walter let out a low whistle. “It might be the only time the diner got quiet.”
“Rose, what was that song he loved?” asked Harvey.
“I hate you both.”
Rose rested a hand on my shoulder. “‘I’m Coming Out’?” She squeezed. “He’d go through Ed’s records until he reached the disco years.”
I hadn’t had my first sip, and they already circled like fun-loving sharks. Over the years, I learned in this house that causing embarrassment was an act of love only committed by those with the best of intentions. Red cheeks meant somebody knew all the juicy secrets.
“So that’s where the love of sequins comes from.” Harvey’s comment came close to referencing Mabel. “You should have seen Walter in his leisure suit. And hair with enough gel, it looked like a helmet.”
“Me? I didn’t go with powder blue.” Walter gave me an elbow to the side. “The part in his shirt went down so far he needed a bikini wax.”
They both fell silent before laughing as if they had just heard the best joke. The thought of them in platform shoes, leisure suits, and enough product in their hair to be considered a fire hazard cracked me up.
“I still have it if you ever need it for a performance,” Harvey said. “The suit. Not the hair.” He patted his bald scalp. “That vanished with disco.”
“Maybe we should form a trio?” Walter asked. “Sequins for miles. Mike can be our frontman.”
There was no doubt in my mind that they knew about Mabel.
Rose and Edward would have shown them every mention in the Bangor Daily News.
She’d treat them like family and brag about my accomplishments.
News of her retirement wouldn’t happen overnight.
I should have been prepared to explain the absence of my larger-than-life personality.
“Mabel’s on hiatus.”
“Oh?” they said in unison.
“Permanently.” My hands tightened around the coffee mug.
“Oh,” they continued.
All three of us sipped coffee in silence. I reached for a scone, ready to stuff my mouth so I didn’t have to explain any further. Her retirement sounded like a bomb going off, but the reasoning behind it was a secret I wasn’t ready to share.
“I did drag once.” Walter’s confession… I had questions.
We all returned to our coffee, nobody willing to ask the burning question in the air. I shoved a scone into my mouth. I fought it, but it was impossible to ignore. Walter had opened the door to what could be an epic story. At the risk of the conversation turning to Mabel, I needed to know.
“Really?” I asked through a mouthful of pastry.
“Charity show,” he said. “Smooth as a baby’s butt.”
I almost asked if he shaved or waxed, but I caught myself. As much as I wanted to know, this was Walter’s story, and Mabel wasn’t going to participate. If it were anybody else in Firefly, the admission might have come as a shock, but with these two? It was just another day.
“I was rather majestic, if I do say so myself.”
“Majestic, huh?” Harvey didn’t seem convinced. After this, I’m sure they’d go back to Walter’s house, and he’d pull out photos. I’m convinced they were both immune to shame. It’d turn into a presentation, stories, and a musical number.
“The—ahem—boys still enjoy some lace from time to time, if you know what I mean.” If I didn’t, the exaggerated wink made it clear.
“Walter,” Rose barked. “You best stay away from my knickers.”
Harvey nearly spit out his coffee. I had to cover my mouth, desperately trying to swallow my food. Well-timed, but more importantly, did Rose just admit to having lace in her dresser drawers? It seemed we all had secrets bubbling to the surface this morning.
“Rose,” Walter snapped back. “You best stay away from mine.”
Each confession came without judgment. In the sanctuary of Rose’s kitchen, every word was met with humor and warmth.
I had been wrong; the green might be the center of Firefly, but these moments around the table, sipping coffee, served as its heart.
While I wasn’t ready to elaborate, when the time came, they’d listen.
“I prefer commando,” I said before returning to my coffee.
A dish towel flew across the kitchen, landing in front of me. “In that case, sit on that,” Rose added.
Laughter. Genuine and heartfelt. It was the perfect start, and I couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the day would bring.