Three

Silas

When I was 9, I dragged my mother and father out of their beds and to the kitchen. After reassuring them that the house was not on fire and that I wasn't dying, I was able to guide them to the brightly lit nook, where I opened the curtains letting in a prodigious amount of morning light. They liked to sleep in on Saturday, but I felt my news was important enough to incur their wrath. I put the Keurig to work, preparing them two cups of coffee then informed them in no uncertain terms that I was gay.

My mother sipped her coffee, making yummy noises, even though I'd added enough milk to make it look like chocolate milk. "Mmmhmm, that's nice, sweetie." I think my mother always knew and had at some point shared this knowledge with my father. I can't say he was as accepting of my "predicament": his word, not mine. At that moment, he seemed perplexed. "Son. Silas. You're nine."

I nodded, meeting his curious gaze.

"How..." He looked at my mother, who continued sipping her coffee then back at me. "How do you know?"

I shrugged. "Danny Sparks was telling me about his girlfriend. She's not his girlfriend-girlfriend, he just shares his Twinkie with her at recess."

My mother coughed into her coffee. She tried bravely to hide a grin. My father frowned.

"Danny says that makes them boyfriend and girlfriend. He follows her around and when he's not sharing his Twinkie with her, he's throwing things at her, and pulling her hair. He's a stupid boy. I'm not sure she likes him, but she sure likes his Twinkies.” My mother struggled not to laugh; peering into her cup, pinching the bridge of her nose, her lips pursed as she tried valiantly to suppress laughter. At the time, I didn't understand. Now the innuendo forces a smile from me.

"But. How... Why... Why do you think you're gay?" My father reached for my mother's hand. She patted his outreached hand. "I want Danny to share his Twinkie with me." I don't know if I could express everything that entailed, but I liked Danny.

I think the Twinkie innuendo had finally done my mother in. She stood abruptly and went to the refrigerator. She hid behind the door, and I heard what I initially thought was crying. She peeked from behind the door, her eyes sparkling. "Who wants breakfast?"

"Did you guys hear me? I'm gay."

"Don't worry, sweetie. Whatever you decide, your father and I will support you." She looked at my father. "Right, dear?"

"Of course. Of course. You're young. You may be confused. But, yes, of course. Whatever you decide..." He inched his chair forward, closer to the table, and leaned toward me as much as the table would allow, his eyes earnest. "You just need to be careful. Not everyone will accept..."

"Dear? Could you help me with the eggs?" I watched my father and mother at the stove; she, leaning in and whispering urgently, casting what were supposed to be casual glances back at me to make sure I couldn't hear her as she admonished my father. My father merely nodded, placatingly.

Adrian and I sat on the patio, the outdoor heaters humming quietly with the music over the intercom. The poetry jam crowd had dispersed hours ago, but Adrian and I stayed.

"That's quite the coming-out story." Adrian watched me. He held an oversized coffee mug

I nodded. "As I said, I'm pretty sure my mom knew already. She probably knew before I did. My dad, however..."

"Guys. We'll be closing up in about twenty minutes. Sorry."

Adrian looked at his watch and nodded. "Well, I guess that's that."

"What?" My voice rose several octaves in surprise. "Huh-uh. No way. Not fair." I shook my head, turning in my chair. "You get me all hopped up on caffeine, so I'll blab all night and now I don't get your story?"

"My story isn't all that interesting. Especially in comparison."

"That's a cop-out if I ever heard one. I told you mine. I think you owe me a story.

"Yeah, but yours is charming. I can just see you wearing some cute pajamas with footies and everything, tugging on your parents' arm, dragging them to the kitchen." Adrian's eyes sparkled.

I don't know why I blushed at that as the image blossomed in my head like it was yesterday. His smile warmed my cheeks even more.

"My story is much more tragic. I mean my parents didn't disown me but they...". Adrian looked across the parking lot, staring at nothing. I wonder if he saw images flashing before his eyes too. "They aren't what I would call open-minded, oddly, since they're both well educated. I think it's a pride thing. Their son coming out as gay didn't go according to their life plan. They never said as much, at least not in the beginning. But it was easy to discern their unspoken dismay. And I guess the way they found out didn't help."

"Oh my god, an embarrassing moment? I thought embarrassing moments were an urban legend."

"I wish. Efram Wilde." Adrian sighed. The name must have conjured an image that left a sparkle in his eye. "He was my best friend. We did everything together. We were both wallflowers, kept to ourselves, and probably wouldn't have found each other at all, if not for the fact that we were both gay. There was this online chat room for local gays and I saw his profile and was instantly drawn to him. He had the most beautiful eyes and his smile..." Adrian glanced down at his hands, smiling.

"We met up after chatting for a couple of weeks. I was scared to death. I mean you hear the horror stories. I just knew I was being catfished or..." Adrian shook his head.

"On our first date; we went to the movies.  He was so cute and self-conscious. We sat as far apart from each other as the seats allowed but by the end of the movie, I was practically in his lap. His touch was..." Adrian threw another far-off glance then zeroed in on me again, "freeing. Intoxicating. Even though all we did was hold hands. Our first kiss sealed my fate. I was in love—first love and all that entailed. Our relationship was wild and furious. We couldn't get enough of each other. It's a good thing we didn't go to the same school."

The most perfect smile blossomed on his face, transforming him. "We were both still in the closet so finding a time and a place to ourselves proved to be quite a chore but a chore we were surprisingly good at. Dressing rooms proved to be one of our favorite places. We were almost caught once in Abercrombie & Fitch. Those posters they have that cover the walls triggered a not-so-quiet assignation that left me wobbly."

Adrian's ears and cheeks were bright red as if he were reliving the moment. "The girl that heard us knocked on the dressing room door and it was all I could do to keep from yelling out as I climaxed in Efram's hand."

He paused, maybe to compose himself, then lifted his cup to drink only to realize it was empty. He glanced around the empty coffee shop, his shoulders sinking just a bit as he realized there'd be no refill.

"Anyway, I remember it was a Sunday afternoon. My parents had gone to church and Efram had waited for them to leave. He climbed the trellis and I found him naked in my bed. I pounced on him and we were making so much noise we didn't hear my parents' car pull back into the driveway. My mother had forgotten her bible. There's no way she didn't hear us and when she opened the door, she discovered us. I was mortified, but Efram was in the throes of orgasm and kept going, oblivious of my mother's presence. My mother dropped the Bible with a thud that brought Efram to the here and now, post-climax. The moment screamed cliché; Efram fell out of the bed, hopped into his pants, and dashed from the room, accidentally kicking my mother's Bible in the process. My mother slowly bent and picked it up, then looked at me as if I'd struck her. I imagine the sight did pack quite a punch."

Adrian sighed, absently pressing his empty mug into the napkin, leaving faint impressions. "So, the cat was out of the bag. No possible way to explain it away. And at the time, I couldn't find the words, even if I tried. Ironically, after we'd both composed ourselves, she asked me if I was gay. The question held such accusation. The worst moment in my life, seeing her cry."

"You're such a liar." I smiled; I couldn't help it; his baffled expression enchanted me.

"It's true."

"No, you said; your story wasn't all that interesting." I pointed at him. "Liar, liar, pants on fire!"

He slowly reached across the table and took my finger. To say that shut me up would be an understatement.

"My mother always said it's rude to point." His voice was quiet, introspective.

"Sorry," I replied barely above a whisper, but it was loud enough to bring him out of his reverie.

Adrian took a deep breath and released my finger. "I should..." He stood abruptly. Headlights strafed the parking lot in front of the patio.

Ellie hopped out of the car. "Sorry. Sorry. We got lost and..." She stopped on the other side of the wrought-iron gate that surrounded the patio and looked at Adrian. "What's wrong?"

Adrian looked at me and smiled. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Ellie looked at me and then turned abruptly. Archie rolled down the tinted window. Ellie gave him a thumbs-up and he smacked the steering wheel with jubilant excitement.

I shook my head. Adrian sidled up behind me. I felt his hand at the small of my back and then he gripped my elbow. He leaned in and his breath played down my neck. "Next time, we can plot their deaths. Slow and painful."

I nodded, though, in truth, all I wanted to do was turn back time and spend the next three hours with him again.