Are You Sitting Down? (4 page)

Surprisingly, we’d gone to high school together right here in
Ruby Dregs
.
He was a year behind me, and although we were both closeted questioning teenagers we never once spoke to each other.
We had different friends, played different sports, and
joined
different clubs.
I moved to
Memphis
for college; Justin attended the local community college after he graduated.

Six
years would pass and I was home for a week’s v
a
cation visiting Mom.
I bumped into Justin one night at a community theater production.
I didn’t recognize him from high school, but he later told me he had recognized me.
Our eyes met and locked in that chilling stare that two people like us share, when no words and no introductions are necessary.
We immediately knew the one thing we had in common.
We both slept with men.

He was seated several rows behind me.
I could feel the weight of his hazel eyes on the back of my head, so much I wanted to turn around and look back at him.
I didn’t.
At inte
r
mission I stood up to stretch and faced the back of the auditorium
, nodding to the familiar yet nameless faces I had not seen in years
.
Justin’s
seat was empty.
He
had
rushed out to smoke, and hoped I’
d
come out looking for him.
But h
e had no words to share with me, and smoked half a pack anxiously ho
p
ing I’d
come
speak to him first.
But I was a chicken too and didn’t go looking for him.

The lights flickered si
gna
ling the start of the second act.
He rushed back in and just as I was about to sit back down
, our eyes met again.
Justin smiled an awkward smile
; he later told me he was just glad I was still there
.
I gave a nod as if I knew who he was.
I wanted to know.
Gutsy, he waited for me at the back of the auditorium when the show was over.
I stayed seated to let the crowd thin out, somehow knowing he’d be there looking for me.
I wanted him to be, and had secretly wished for it through the second act.
My wish came true.

“Did you go to
R
D
?”
Justin asked, pulling away from the wall where he’d been leaning.
Ruby Dregs
was
also
the name of the local high school.

“Yeah.
Class of 93.
You?”

“Class of 94.”

“Really?”

“I’m Justin.
Justin Black,” he said offering a
trembling
hand for me to shake.

“
I’m
Travis—“

“Travis White?”
h
e asked, interrupting me.

“Yeah,” I said.
His hand was cold and clammy when I shook it
, but
I didn’t want to let go.

We went for coffee that night at the Pancake House.
After
community college,
Justin had
worked odd local retail jobs.
He was currently the manager of a wicker imports store that had just opened here two years ago.
Although this was his hom
e
town
, he wasn’t happy here.
He lived at home with his parents.
He’d never had a boyfriend.
He needed to escape.

It would be six months before that happened.
He stayed with me every weekend in
Memphis
when
he didn’t have to work.
I showed him the city.
He liked it.
He wanted to be here with me on a regular basis.
I wanted him here.
To my surprise, he secretly started looking for a job.
When he found one, he surprised me over dinner one night by asking if he could move in with me.
My studio was too small for us, so we
looked for
a
larger apartment.
Our first place.
Together.

We often shared a laugh about our last names being o
p
posites.
Black and White.
We dressed as salt and pepper shakers one year for a Halloween party.
But secretly, i
t worried me.
I was afraid as a couple, we’d be total opposites too after Justin moved in with me.
I knew what it was like to be a young man finally free of the chains of a close-minded small town and new to the city.
It changes you.
You rush into things just to exper
i
ence them.
You break hearts and get yours broken.
You turn you
r
back on regrets.
I’d had six years to
myself in the city to
get pas
t
all that, but Justin
was different
and he constantly reminded me of that.
And he was right
.

He
never once turned his back on me.

*
*
*
*

My mother was a tall lady, as tall as me at six three.
She was elegantly thin with straight shoulder-length frosted hair that she parted down the middle.
Her black thick rimmed glasses and Roman nose gave her a boyish look in the face, like a clumsy cartoon bird.
We’d tried to get her to swap the rims for something a little daintier.
She hated the word
dainty
and refused to be associated with it.
She only wore the glasses for reading, and since she read often the glasses were
usually
on her face even when there wasn’t a book in front of her.

She almost always wore black.
Her closet consisted of nothing but black pants, black jeans, and long black skirts.
Her tops were always white blouses, white turtle necks, or maybe a white sweater with hints of silver.
She’d accent it with a
red
scarf or a vest, and some shiny jewelry.
Today, she had on black fitted pants and a white turtle neck covered in small bunches of holly.

“Hello darling,” she called from the front door.
I had just driven up and parked
my
car behind hers and was opening the back
door to unload the food.

“Merry Christmas!”
I called out, busy with the ham.

“Merry Christmas to you doll.
Do you need some help?
Let me get my shoes.”

She disappeared inside and came back out in a hurry, bustling down the steps.
Mom had a way of just hurriedly r
e
acting to situations, not giving you a chance to answer.
At thirty
-
five
years of age, I was quite accustomed to just saving my breath.
She opened the passenger door and began filling her arms with the wrapped boxes.

“Are these all for me?
You shouldn’t have.
What’d you get your brother
s
and sisters?”

I ha
ve
four
siblings
:
an older brother and sister, and a younger brother and sister
.
I was right in the middle, the divi
d
ing point between traditional conforming generations and the not so compliant ones.
My older brother and sister
were
each married with children.
I was gay.
My younger brother was a recovering addict who’d lost a girlfriend to drugs.
My younger sister also “ran around with the wrong crowd,” to quote my mother.

“Are they here yet?”
I asked.

I knew they weren’t because there were only two cars in the driveway, mine and Mom’s.
But by asking
she’d give me the updates on all of them and when they were expected to
get here
.

“
Y
ou are the first to arrive, my dear.
Ellen and the two kids will be here sho
rtly.”

“What about Mark?”
I asked.

Ellen was the oldest sister.
Mark was Ellen’s husband.
They had a young daughter and a son.
Mom seemed startled when I said his name.

“He won’t be here this year
,” she said in a heavy whi
s
per as if someone might hear us.

“Is something wrong?”
I asked.

“Ask your sister.”

I left it at that.
I knew their marriage had been on the rocks, but had not heard the latest.
Since I was the only one who lived out of town,
I was usually the last to know about anything.

“Martin and Marline and the kids will be along
later
,” Mom said.

Martin was my older brother.
Marline was his wife.
They had a boy and a girl also.

“What about Sebastian?”
I asked.

Sebastian was my younger brother.

“
He
should be here by mid-afternoon.”

“Is he seeing
anyone
?”

“Oh no,
not since what happened with Lind
.
Clare should be here any minute with Jake
though
.”