The trouble began at SFO.
Auberge was standing at the check-in counter wearing a cream-colored linen outfit, a pair of cruelty-free leather-look sandals, and an expression of profound spiritual readiness.
Gaius was inspecting the airline's environmental policy.
Ruslan was eating a bagel.
“Darling,” Auberge announced, “I'm so excited for you to meet my family.”
Gaius looked up from his phone.
“Of course.”
“They're very warm people.”
“Wonderful.”
“They love food.”
“Excellent.”
“Particularly barbecue.”
Gaius stopped scrolling.
Ruslan stopped chewing.
Auberge smiled.
“Texas barbecue. Brisket. Ribs. Sausage. Smoked chicken. My father has a smoker that cost more than my first car.”
Gaius stared at him.
“You've never mentioned this.”
“It's not particularly relevant to my current lifestyle.”
“Your father smokes meat?”
“Professionally, almost.”
Ruslan swallowed his bagel.
“That's actually kind of impressive.”
Auberge looked at him with quiet betrayal.
“Ruslan.”
“What? I said it was impressive. I didn't say I wanted to eat it.”
Gaius slowly put his phone away.
“I need to sit down.”
“You're already sitting,” Ruslan observed.
“Then I need to sit down more.”
They had been at the airport for nine minutes.
Their flight had not yet boarded.
Already, Gaius was experiencing the first symptoms of a catastrophic ideological event.
The Flight
At 11:20 a.m., the three men boarded their flight to Dallas.
Gaius had requested a vegetarian meal and then spent twenty minutes examining the airline's published sustainability commitments.
Ruslan had accepted the standard vegan meal.
Auberge had brought his own food.
He had also brought a printed itinerary, a list of emergency vegan restaurants in Dallas, and a small bottle of facial serum.
The flight attendant approached.
“Would anyone like a beverage?”
“Still water, please,” Gaius said. “Filtered, if possible.”
“Of course.”
Auberge smiled.
“Do you have oat milk?”
“For coffee?”
“For everything.”
The flight attendant blinked.
“I can check.”
Ruslan leaned back.
“Just bring him the coffee.”
Auberge turned.
“Darling, we cannot assume the oat milk is ethically sourced.”
“We're on a plane.”
“Which makes the supply chain more complicated, not less.”
Gaius nodded absently.
He was looking at a message from Auberge's mother.
So excited to see you boys! We've got the smoker going and Daddy has been preparing his famous beef ribs. Don't eat too much on the plane!
Gaius reread it.
Then he read it again.
Then he showed it to Ruslan.
Ruslan looked at the screen.
“It's a barbecue.”
“Yes.”
“In Texas.”
“Yes.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don't know. A salad?”
Ruslan closed his eyes.
“Gaius, please don't embarrass us before we've landed.”
Gaius put the phone away.
He stared out the window.
Somewhere beneath them, America was preparing to test every principle he had ever held.
Welcome to Texas
Auberge's family home was located in a comfortable Dallas suburb, on a street where the lawns were immaculate, the driveways contained large vehicles, and the smell of smoked meat could be detected from several houses away.
His father, Richard, stood in the driveway wearing a baseball cap, a polo shirt, and the expression of a man who had never once wondered whether his dinner was ethically sourced.
He was holding a pair of barbecue tongs.
“AUBERGE!”
Auberge ran into his arms.
“Daddy!”
Richard hugged him.
“You look thin.”
Ruslan muttered, “Here we go.”
Richard stepped back and examined his son.
“Are you eating enough?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“What do you eat?”
“Plants.”
Richard stared.
“Plants?”
“Vegetables. Legumes. Grains. Fruits.”
Richard looked at his wife, Patricia, who had emerged from the house carrying a tray of deviled eggs.
“Patricia, our son eats plants.”
Patricia sighed.
“I know, Richard. We've discussed it.”
Richard turned toward Gaius and Ruslan.
“And who are these gentlemen?”
Auberge took a breath.
“These are my partners.”
Richard nodded.
“Business partners?”
“No, Daddy.”
“Roommates?”
“No.”
Richard looked from one man to the other.
Then he looked at Auberge.
“Partners?”
Auberge nodded.
Richard took off his baseball cap.
He put it back on.
He took it off again.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Well. Come on inside. The brisket's almost ready.”
Ruslan looked at Gaius.
Gaius whispered, “That went surprisingly well.”
They entered the house.
The dining room contained a large wooden table, twelve chairs, a decorative arrangement of artificial sunflowers, and a framed photograph of Richard standing beside a smoked brisket at a regional barbecue competition.
Beneath the photograph was a plaque.
FIRST PLACE — NORTH TEXAS SMOKE MASTERS, 2019.
Auberge looked at it.
“Oh, Daddy. You kept it.”
Richard beamed.
“Of course I did.”
Gaius looked at the plaque.
He looked at the brisket.
He looked at Auberge.
For the first time in their relationship, he began to understand that some people had built their entire identities around something other than the ethical procurement of avocados.
It was a deeply unsettling realization.
The Republican
Lunch was served at 1:15 p.m.
The table contained brisket, smoked ribs, sausage, potato salad, coleslaw, baked beans, cornbread, pickles, and a large bowl of macaroni and cheese.
Gaius sat in front of a plate of roasted vegetables Patricia had thoughtfully prepared after Auberge had explained the dietary requirements.
He was grateful.
He was also exhausted.
Richard carved the brisket with the confidence of a man performing a sacred ritual.
“So, Gaius,” he said, “what do you do?”
“I work in technology.”
“Good industry. Lots of opportunity.”
“Yes.”
Richard nodded.
“I'm a Republican myself. Always have been.”
Gaius froze.
The fork slipped from his hand.
It struck the plate with a sound that seemed to reverberate through the entire house.
Ruslan slowly turned toward him.
“Oh, no.”
Richard continued.
“Believe in limited government, fiscal responsibility, all that.”
Gaius's face went white.
Auberge looked at his father.
“Daddy.”
“What?”
“You didn't tell them?”
“Tell them what?”
Patricia put down her serving spoon.
“Oh, Richard.”
Richard looked confused.
“What?”
Auberge closed his eyes.
“Daddy is a Republican.”
Silence.
Gaius stared at Richard.
Richard stared back.
Ruslan whispered, “Gaius, breathe.”
Gaius opened his mouth.
Nothing emerged.
Then he made a small, strangled noise.
His eyes rolled upward.
And he fainted directly into the potato salad.
The Emergency
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Patricia screamed.
“AUBERGE! YOUR FRIEND!”
“HE'S MY PARTNER!”
“YOUR PARTNER IS IN THE POTATO SALAD!”
Ruslan jumped up.
“Gaius!”
Auberge rushed around the table.
“Oh, my God. Darling! Darling, can you hear me?”
Gaius lay motionless, one arm submerged in mayonnaise.
Richard stared down at him.
“Well, I'll be damned.”
Ruslan knelt beside Gaius.
“Can you hear me?”
Gaius's eyes fluttered open.
He looked up at Ruslan.
Then he whispered:
“Republican?”
Ruslan closed his eyes.
“Yes, darling.”
Gaius fainted again.
Richard took a step backward.
“Patricia, I think he might be having a medical episode.”
Patricia grabbed a dish towel.
“MOVE THE POTATO SALAD!”
Auberge began fanning Gaius with a paper plate.
“Darling, stay with us!”
Gaius opened one eye.
“Does he vote Republican?”
Richard looked offended.
“Yes, I do.”
Gaius closed his eye.
His head fell back.
Ruslan stared at the ceiling.
“I cannot believe I'm the most stable person in this family.”
The Recovery
Gaius recovered on the sofa twenty minutes later.
Patricia had provided him with water, a clean towel, and a fresh plate of vegetables.
Richard stood nearby, looking vaguely concerned.
“You feeling better, son?”
Gaius stared at him.
“Please don't call me son.”
Richard blinked.
“Fair enough.”
Auberge sat beside Gaius.
“Darling, perhaps we should discuss this calmly.”
Gaius turned toward him.
“You knew?”
“That my father was Republican?”
“Yes!”
Auberge hesitated.
“I knew he voted Republican.”
Gaius made a sound of anguish.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I didn't think it would be an issue.”
Gaius stared at him.
“An issue?”
Ruslan sat down in the armchair opposite them.
“Gaius, I need you to understand something. We are guests in someone's home. We can disagree with their politics without having a medical emergency.”
Gaius looked wounded.
“I didn't plan to faint.”
“Then perhaps your body has made a political statement without consulting your brain.”
Auberge covered his mouth.
Richard chuckled.
Gaius looked at him.
“I'm sorry. I find your political views deeply troubling.”
Richard nodded.
“That's your right.”
Gaius paused.
He had expected an argument.
Instead, Richard offered him a glass of water.
It was profoundly disorienting.
The Barbecue Summit
By evening, the family had settled into a tentative peace.
Richard had learned that Gaius was unlikely to eat brisket under any circumstances.
Gaius had learned that Richard was capable of discussing politics without immediately initiating a debate.
Ruslan had learned that Patricia's potato salad was genuinely excellent, despite its ethically complicated relationship with mayonnaise.
Auberge had learned that his father was not going to disown him for being gay or having two partners.
Then Richard made the mistake of offering Gaius a slice of pecan pie.
“It's homemade.”
“Thank you, but does it contain animal products?”
“Eggs and butter.”
Gaius shook his head.
Richard nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He turned to Ruslan.
“You want a slice?”
“Absolutely.”
Gaius stared at him.
Ruslan took the pie.
“What?”
“It's not vegan.”
“I know.”
“You're eating it?”
“Yes.”
Auberge looked horrified.
“Ruslan!”
Ruslan took a bite.
He closed his eyes.
“Oh, that's good.”
Gaius looked betrayed.
“I thought we had shared values.”
“We do.”
“Then how can you—”
“Gaius,” Ruslan interrupted, “I am eating a piece of pie. I'm not joining a political party.”
Richard laughed so hard that he nearly dropped his fork.
Auberge looked at his father.
Then at Ruslan.
Then at the pie.
“Could I have a bite?”
Everyone stared at him.
Auberge swallowed.
“Just a bite.”
Gaius put his head in his hands.
“My entire relationship is collapsing.”
Richard cut another slice.
“Son, you should try the brisket sometime. It'll change your life.”
Gaius stood up.
“No.”
He walked into the kitchen.
Auberge followed him.
Ruslan stayed at the table.
He had decided that Texas was growing on him.
The Final Revelation
On Sunday morning, the throuple prepared to leave.
Richard hugged Auberge.
“Love you, son.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
He shook Ruslan's hand.
“Good to meet you.”
“You too.”
Then he turned to Gaius.
Gaius hesitated.
Richard extended his hand.
“I'm glad you came.”
Gaius shook it.
“Thank you for having us.”
Richard smiled.
“And for what it's worth, I don't expect you to agree with me about politics.”
Gaius looked surprised.
“You don't?”
“No. You're entitled to your opinions. I'm entitled to mine. We can still share a meal.”
Gaius stood very still.
Something in his expression softened.
“That's... reasonable.”
Richard nodded.
“Good.”
Then he added:
“Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a brisket to put on the smoker.”
Gaius's eyes widened.
Auberge grabbed his arm.
“DARLING, NO.”
Ruslan stepped between them.
“Everybody breathe.”
Gaius sat down.
He drank a glass of water.
He remained conscious.
It was a personal triumph.
As they drove toward the airport, Auberge turned to his partners.
“I think the visit went well.”
Ruslan nodded.
“Your family was lovely.”
Gaius stared out the window.
“Your father is a Republican.”
“Yes, darling.”
“He smokes meat.”
“Yes.”
“He eats pecan pie.”
“Yes.”
Gaius took a long breath.
Then he said, very quietly:
“I think I need another retreat.”
Ruslan accelerated toward the highway.
“No.”
Auberge smiled.
“Perhaps a retreat for couples with differing political values?”
Gaius looked at him.
Ruslan looked at the road.
For the first time in their relationship, neither man responded.
They had learned something in Texas.
Some disasters could not be resolved with a circle, a PowerPoint, or an ethically sourced candle.
Some disasters required a very long flight home.
And possibly a nap.