Light

Jeff and I used to go to the gay clubs in Denver. I was a model then; Jeff was a model too. That was how we met.

Anyway, we recognized each other right away.

At clubs, we were brother and sister.

Jeff was stunning, the kind of guy everyone looked at. He said it was what he had going for him.

I used to go looking for him in the clubs. He’d disappear once or twice a night at twenty minute intervals. Jeff sucked guys off in the parking lot. One night, cold and overcast, I found Jeff alongside a dumpster and wiped dried come off his mouth. Jeff took my hand. We stood-shoulder-to-shoulder. He hadn’t worn a jacket.

“I worry about you.” 

Our breath mingled.

“I love you,” he said.

Jeff said he couldn’t tell his father he was gay. “A friend of mine told his parents and his mother said well, we still love you even though you’re gay.”

Right, even though. Fuck, even though.

Years later, I tried it once on my son. “I love you even though you’re straight.”

He looked at me, and it took him a minute, then he said, “You’d love me better if I was gay?”

“No. My love for you is unconditional. But I had this friend once. He was afraid to tell his parents he was gay. See, if his parents didn’t turn thier backs on him altogether, he worried they’d say something like, we love you even though you’re gay.”

“Oh. Sorry, Mom.”

We have nothing to be sorry for. 

Back then, the clubs were our wombs lit by neon and Dead or Alive. I was with a girlfriend one night. Jeff was there. Another guy too. We were a beast with four backs on the dance floor; we shared drinks, crowded together into the same bathroom stall. Just before last call, the deejay made an announcement over the sound system regarding the results of a vote. Everyone in the club booed. I was drunk and had no idea what the vote was about, but whatever it was, it was bad no matter how close we huddled together. 

In my girlfriend’s car later, she and I shared a cigarette in the front seat while Jeff and his friend made out in back. My girlfriend’s name was Chaz. Anyway, what she called herself. We talked about moving to South Dakota, living together, raising her son. How could we? Give up the pretense and come out? There’s the light of God. The light of day. The light of a bright idea. And then’s there’s a glare. Your ass hanging out for everyone to kick.

But it’s easier for girls. Everyone wants to see you make out. To me, Jeff and his friend looked like any two people kissing. Beautiful. They took risks though. And the ties that bind unravel. Chaz got involved with a drug dealer. Later, she disappeared into South Dakota by herself. Jeff? You lose people. Whatever you believe happened to him did.