26
Noah finally agreed to come over.
So, I kicked Theo and Auggie out.
“Good luck, Cart,” Auggie said.
“This is your best apology yet,” Theo said.
“You’re going to do great. Call us and tell us what happens.”
Theo waited until Auggie was out the door before leaning in to whisper, “Don’t fuck this up.” And then he scrubbed one hand over my buzzed hair, pressed his forehead against mine, and followed his husband out into the night.
For the next fifteen minutes, I was sure if I sat down—if I stopped moving—I was going to puke.
So, I wore a hole in the floor, one arm wrapped around myself, phone clutched in my other hand so I could check it every five seconds.
I was sweating so much I started to go upstairs twice to change clothes.
Both times, I had the panicked thought that I wouldn’t hear Noah knock, so I went back to pacing and sweating.
And then he knocked.
I was in the living room, and I tripped over the coffee table trying to get to the door.
When I got there, Noah stood on the porch: the puffer jacket with its fur-lined hood pulled up, the fleece leggings, the Uggs.
He was huddled like he was shivering, but then I thought maybe he was just trying to hold himself together.
“Hey,” I said when I answered the door. But that sounded stupid, so I said, “Hi. Thanks for coming over.”
He pushed his hood back as he stepped inside. He was wearing a little makeup, and he had glitter on his cheeks, and his eyes were red from all the crying. When I shut the door behind him, he pulled his arms around himself again.
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked.
Noah nodded, so we went into the living room. I moved over to the sofa, but Noah dropped into one of the armchairs. He picked up a throw pillow and held it to his chest like a shield. That seemed like a message even a redneck like me could figure out.
“I guess you were with your family,” I said.
He shook his head. “They fly out in the morning. They drove back to St. Louis after dinner.”
“Oh,” I said.
Something in the house creaked.
After a while, Noah asked, “Where’d you get that shirt?”
“Theo loaned it to me.”
“It looks good on you.”
“That’s what Auggie said.”
For some reason, that made Noah roll his eyes. After a few more seconds of squeezing the life out of that throw pillow, he said, “That video was very sweet.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
“I know that’s—that’s going to affect your account,” Noah said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I should have done it a long time ago.” But then I said, “I shouldn’t have needed to do it, I guess. Everybody should have known from the beginning.”
That made him bend at the waist a little, his arms tightening even more around the pillow. “Howie, it—it means a lot to me. I don’t even know if I can say how much it means to me. But—”
He stopped.
I waited. And when he didn’t say anything, I said, “But it was just one video.”
Noah gave a miserable shrug. “I appreciate you doing that, making that effort. But I’m worried that…”
And he trailed off.
“That it was just a video,” I said. “And the next time we go out in public—if you ever go out in public with me again—I’m going to act the same way I always have.”
Another miserable shrug. He dragged his gaze toward me, but it slid away again almost immediately.
“That’s fair,” I said. “I guess I should be honest: I don’t think I can change overnight.
Not all of it. Not a hundred percent. I’m going to have to work on it.
I’m going to mess up. I’m going to need your help.
But I guess—I guess that’s all I was hoping for.
That you’d give me a chance to tell you that I’m going to work on it.
And that you’d let me tell you about it. A little. Why.”
A surprisingly harsh laugh worked its way out of Noah. “I think I know why, Howie.” He did a gesture that took him in from head to toe. “I’m a lot.”
It took me a few seconds before I could say, “Wait, you think this is about you?”
“Howie, I’m loud. I love making a scene. I’ve got glitter on my face, for heaven’s sake. Marcus said I’m like a one-man drag queen parade sometimes.”
“Marcus is a little bitch, and if he talks to you like that again, I’m going to rip that little asshole-scrubber he calls a mustache off his face.”
A different laugh—a real one, startled, happy—burst out of Noah this time. A smile lit up his face. Then it faded. “It’s okay, Howie. A lot of guys—even gay guys—think I’m a lot. I’m used to it.”
“I love you.” I waited, and when he didn’t say anything, I said, “I don’t love getting to fuck you.
I don’t love having somebody to come home to.
I love you. I love that you’re so…yourself.
That you’re you. And you don’t give any fucks who knows it.
God, that’s one of the first things I loved about you.
And yeah, I like that you’re soft and you’re pretty and you’ve got a great ass.
But I love you. And a big part of that is because I wish I could—I could be more like you, I guess. Wish I was more like you.”
It felt like a long time before Noah said in a small voice, “I love you too.”
I thought maybe there was more, but it didn’t come, so I said, “I know I’ve got a lot of work to do.
Lot of shit to unpack. The internalized homophobia stuff.
And I’m going to do it. I promise. But I wanted—if you’ll let me—I wanted to tell you about my dad.
” I had to swallow before I could say, “And about my brother.”
His face shifted so quickly it was almost liquid: wariness flowing into confusion. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Ralph,” I said. It was like there was something on my chest, something so heavy I could barely breathe. But somehow I said, “He’s two years younger.”
“Why didn’t you—” But Noah stopped. “Howie, of course you can talk to me about him. You can talk to me about anything.”
My heel started to bounce. My hands slid along the sofa cushion until they found the edge, and then I gripped it like I was hanging on for my life.
“So. You know I grew up—we grew up—not…great. My dad was in and out of prison. My mom was—well, when she was there, she was usually high or drunk, and a lot of the time she was off with her friends, or she’d be at work, which was always a bar, or—” I blew out slowly.
My fingers were still biting into the sofa cushion.
“So, a lot of the time, it was just me and Ralphie. Just me and Ralph. And that was fine when we were younger because we got along. Ralph was…” I was trying to find the right word, but a laugh surprised me.
“God, he was a pain in the fucking ass, that’s what he was.
He didn’t want anybody to tell him what to do.
He always knew better. If he didn’t want to do something, he flat out wouldn’t do it.
Most of the time, that was fine. When it was just the two of us, he could do his own thing.
Our parents weren’t home all that often. ”
Maybe Noah knew, because when the silence stretched out, he asked, “What happened when your parents were home?”
“They fought. Not so much when we were little, but by the time Ralph was in middle school, it was pretty bad. When my dad was around, he was a big believer in using his hands and his belt. My mom probably would have done the same, except Ralph had a way of getting around her without making her too mad.”
Another silence, this one like a river.
“Howie,” Noah said. He moved to the sofa.
His hand followed my arm to where my fingers closed around the cushion.
He didn’t try to pry my grip loose; he just wrapped his hand around mine.
“God, I’m so sorry. I knew—” He stopped.
“I don’t know what I knew. I thought I knew your relationship with your parents wasn’t good, but I never… I never asked.”
A dry little sound kind of like a laugh made its way out of me.
“Well, it wasn’t good, so you got that right.
” Noah’s free hand rubbed my shoulder. “The real problem was Ralph was gay. I mean, I didn’t know that’s what he was.
I knew he was different from a lot of the other boys.
Even in elementary school, I’d watch him, and I just knew.
He didn’t want to play the same games. He was always with the girls.
By middle school, it was obvious. How he talked. How he walked.”
“Fem?”
“Oh fuck yeah. I just thought, well, that was Ralph until I heard another kid at school call him a fag. And as soon as I heard it, I knew he was right. I couldn’t say that, obviously.
I broke that kid’s nose. But I think half the reason I was so upset was that as soon as I heard it, I knew it was true, and I was so—so mad at Ralph.
So angry. Because he hadn’t told me. And because it was true. ”
“Did you know…” Noah asked.
Another of those dry sounds broke free of me.
“I don’t know. God, I was so afraid of being different, I honestly don’t know, Noah.
Did I know that when I started jerking off, I was thinking about boys more often than girls?
Yeah. But the brain is a fucked-up place.
So, I thought about boys. And I told myself that was normal.
Everybody did that. And eventually, I’d meet the right girl, and I’d start thinking about girls.
And it was like this problem that I was convinced I’d never have to deal with because it was always going to get better in the future.
” I couldn’t help adding, “Which, come to think of it, sounds like a fucking pattern in my life.”
Noah rubbed my arm. The furnace came on, and warm air brushed my cheek.
“The next time my dad got out, things started getting bad. He must have noticed something before, but Ralph was old enough now that he couldn’t tell himself it was just a phase. Ralph was a sissy, and he was going to turn Ralph into a real man.”