Letting go of the past can be harder than you think. Sometimes you just need to say goodbye.
Twenty years is a long time to not talk to each other. You look like shit. Maybe I’m remembering things differently or maybe it’s the casket you’re lying in. Either way, you called, I came, and now you’re dead. Why did you wait so long? The past two months was my chance to find out and I was too busy being mad at you. Fighting was what we did best. We should have fought more.
The funeral home is empty. It’s just you and me. And the funeral home’s family, the Flanagans, but they are discreet. The wake doesn’t start for another twenty minutes. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect before anyone else showed up. There won’t be that many people, but it has to be perfect. I need at least one thing to go right for us before I never see you again.
Your mother isn’t coming up from Guatemala, but you knew that. She didn’t talk to you when we were together, so I shouldn’t have expected that to change. Your sister won’t even return my phone calls. She was always a bitch anyway, but it looks like she’s gotten worse over the years. She lives twenty minutes away and still won’t show up.
You never told me the whole story about her. You both came to Boston together when you were younger, but something happened and you two stopped talking. I have my theories, but nothing really adds up. It doesn’t matter now.
I hope you like the black suit. You always said it was the only one that make you look as tall as you feel. You hated being short, but you were the perfect height for me. Twenty years later and you still look like you take barber tips from a tennis ball. I would have liked to see your hair grow out at least once, but that wasn’t an option for you. You wanted things simple. You liked to have control. That was one thing we had in common.
*******
I check the flower arrangements one more time. The chairs are aligned perfectly. The guestbook is pristine. I absentmindedly brush away lint from my pressed black suit. I straighten my black tie and start to pace across the room. I can’t decide if I look like an expectant father or a grieving husband.
I check the flower arrangements again and shift an arrangement of lilies two inches to the left. There’s better lighting. Who decided lilies were appropriate for a funeral? What a waste of good flowers.
People should start showing up any minute now. It’s almost four o’clock. I told everyone the wake starts at three knowing that no one will show up on time. Hell, I’m surprised that Julio showed up on time and it’s his funeral. No, I’m not. He was always on time, unless he wanted to be late. Used to piss me off. The little bastard would show up late just so he could start a fight with me. I hated fighting in public so he knew he had the upper hand. God, I hated him!
People start trickling in and I stand next to the casket. I am the entire receiving line, standing in for family that couldn’t be bothered to show up. I accept the platitudes of condolences with all the grace I can muster. I applaud myself for not punching anyone in the face. I’m standing up here because none of you were there when he needed you. You can all take your sorrys and go fuck yourselves. I stand my ground and maintain my stoic vigil thinking thoughts of murder and mayhem. I almost grin before I catch myself.
A woman walks through the door dressed in all black with a hat that would make a Southern Baptist proud. Caroline dabs a hanky to the corner of her eye making sure that all eyes are on her big entrance. Dramatic bitch. She is the first of three constants in my life. Old habits always seem to kick in when we’re together.
Once the groundwork for her performance is laid, the show begins in earnest. She hands off her clutch purse to a man standing in the doorway. I don’t even know who he is. Hanky in one hand and string of pearls in the other, she makes her way to the casket. She stumbles and falls onto the casket wailing. “I’ll never forget you,” she bawls. I’m surprised no one heard my eyes roll. If I had known she was coming I would have sold popcorn.
She continues the scene for another minute or two before someone ushers her over to a seat. She pulls that crap at the burial and I’ll be the first one piling dirt on her before she has time to get out of the grave. I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only one.
Caroline is the reason Julio and I met in the first place. They were acquaintances back in our clubbing days. I went out more than I should have but I was also in my twenties. I was young, hot, and could drink forever. Julio was older, confident, and my next conquest.
I had Caroline introduce us, which she did, but I played hard to get with him. Caroline loved watching the drama and played on it. Caroline called in a few favors, and convinced some of the go-go dancers to take me up on stage. Next thing you know I was surrounded by some of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t complaining, but I couldn’t stop staring at Julio. Caroline had lit a match and waited to watch the flames. She knew that Julio got what he wanted and this would drive him insane.
Challenge accepted. Julio chased me down at the end of the night to tell me I was going home with him. That is when we had our first fight. Young and dumb as I was, I was not a ho. Well, at least he couldn’t prove it.
“All you young guys are all the same. You just don’t know what you want,” Julio yelled.
“That’s because all of you old fucks think you can get whatever you want,” I replied.
The conversation didn’t get better. He went home alone, but not before giving me his number and telling me to call him when I “grew up.” I hated him so much at that moment, but I kept his number.
Caroline strolled over after he had walked away. “So, sugar, you gonna call him?”
“You know what? I will. Just to show him what he will never have again. Asshole.”
She was there for every fight we had over the next two years. If it was a fight about picking pizza toppings or who had won an argument a year ago, Caroline was around. I can’t prove she provoked any of the fighting, but I would bet she did. She always knew more than she let on and conveniently left pertinent information out. If it wasn’t about her, it was because of her. And based off this scene at the casket, things haven’t changed much.
I walk over to where Caroline is now sitting. “How was your trip from Kentucky?”
“Sugar, you know how it is. Long and uncomfortable, but it’s always worth it to see a friend.”
“Cut the bullshit, Caroline. It’s just you and me.”
“Too much? Maybe if I took off the veil so everyone can see the mascara running down my face.”
Caroline was no southern belle. She was Boston born and raised. Even though she lived in Kentucky and affected the accent, she was about as southern as a Maine lobster. And she swore like a truck driving sailor when no one was looking. She claimed that people trusted her more if they thought she was from the South. In her defense, that part at least was true .
“Can you just sit here and not cause a scene until I can find someone to babysit you?”
“What about that tall drink of water over there? All of a sudden I’m getting the vapors.”
“I will not hesitate to bury you with Julio and risk damnation in the process.”
She waves her hanky in surrender. “Fine. I’ll be good. You know I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t for you, right?”
I roll my eyes and return to my place next to the casket.
The line of people becomes a blur of teary-eyed strangers. I don’t know these people. What am I even doing up here? I’m convinced this is an elaborate plot as a final fuck you from Julio. Making me stand up here and go through this while he sits back and watches. I became the stand in by virtue of being there when he died. I should have never picked up the phone.
“Sweetie, you look like you need a drink.”
I focus on the voice in front of me and realize Ric is standing in front of me . . . with a glass of white wine. If Caroline is constant drama, then Ric is constant sex and alcohol. Both just appear when he’s around.
“I don’t even want to know where you got this, but holy shit, am I glad to see you right now.” I take a swig from the glass and return it to Ric.
“Sweetie, you know I always come prepared. A wake should be a party. The funeral is tomorrow. No one is any fun if they’re not drinking. Or fucking. And I’m pretty sure I’ve slept with all the guys here, but let me double check that.”
“Don’t you dare! This is a wake, not a brothel,” I threaten. There was no doubt in my mind that I would find him screwing in some dark corner in twenty minutes. Someone would anyway, and I can only hope it’s me, as sick as that sounds in my head.
“Sweetie, why do you always take the fun out of things,” he pouts. He flitters off to his next shiny object and I can hear him calling everyone Sweetie. I honestly don’t think he bothers to remember anyone’s name.
Not ten minutes later I see him flash a flask in my direction and he creeps around a corner out of sight. I’m going to have to apologize to the Flanagans for the mess they will surely find somewhere in their house.
Ric spells his name with a C. Just a C. He says it makes him sound intriguing. I think it makes him sound pretentious, but he’s not a bad guy, not in the traditional sense anyway. He just has a very different set of morals, hedonistic in their simplicity. Ric and Julio were dangerous when they got together. I almost regret letting the two of them meet in the first place.
There was one night where Julio and I had gotten into one of our legendary fights. I can’t remember if he thought I was cheating or if I left the cap off the toothpaste. It didn’t matter. The fight was always the same. I’m surprised no one had called the cops on us. This time I swore it was over, like I always did, but Ric wanted a chance to make things right between Julio and me. He offered to take Julio out so they could blow off some steam. Just a boys’ night out. I figured it couldn’t get any worse, so I agreed. Julio called me the next morning and apologized. I was speechless. Julio never apologized for anything. At least not to me.
“Ric, what did you say to him? I’ve never seen him like this?”
Ric smirked. “A girl has to keep some secrets.”
I never did find out what happened that night. I’m not sure I want to know. Ric is known for his unorthodox methods and I’m pretty sure I would have had to find a place to hide the body if he had told me what happened. I need to just let it go. This is the first time I’ve thought about that night since then. Maybe I’ll get the courage to ask what really happened. On second thought, I really don’t want to know.
The afternoon turns into early evening and the line of faces continues. I say respectful things to the guests and curse them silently in my head. Some of them I knew and some of them I didn’t. What I did know is that no one had been around for a long time. Years according to Julio’s nurse. Ann-Marie had been Julio’s nurse for the past three years when he started getting really sick. It’s not that he couldn’t take care of himself, he just didn’t want to anymore.
Ann-Marie was a sweet girl to the point where I question if Julio had died from diabetes. The sunshine attitude of hers was the only thing that kept Julio from treating her the way he truly wanted to. He yelled at her and said she didn’t know how to do her job. She ignored him and smiled like he had just complimented her. It drove him insane. I loved watching every minute of it.
She was more of a personal assistant than a nurse, which helped me out more than I could comprehend. She kept track of his doctors’ appointments and his medications. She knew which foods he liked and which ones he liked, but couldn’t eat. She knew which movies he could watch a hundred times and which ones he hated. She also knew the name and number of each and every person here in this room. She was a godsend.
I haven’t seen her tonight and I’m not sure if she’ll be coming. As much as she grew to love Julio, I don’t think she would feel comfortable being here. I completely understand and told her so when we were making final arrangements.
She told me the one person that Julio talked about every chance he could was me. She knew that if I was here then everything would be ok. I took it for the compliment it was intended to be and cursed Julio again in my head.
He had the luxury of being dead while I was playing the graceful host. The shadow of a grin played across Julio’s face in the casket. I desperately wanted to hit him one last time. I’m sitting here entertaining his coworkers from the bar he worked at, neighbors that felt like they needed to make an appearance, and acquaintances looking for rumors and drama. I don’t know how much more of this I can take before I lose my porcelain façade.
Just as the thought crosses my mind, a porcelain China doll walks into the room wearing a spotless white suit. Angel strolls in with an older man escorting him. Angel would be constant eternal youth. Personally, I just call it Peter Pan syndrome. They make their way through the line of waiting grievers before they reach me.
“Chris, I’d like you to meet John. John, Chris.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” John says as he shakes my hand.
“I appreciate the thought. John, do you mind if I have a minute with Angel?”
He nods and walks off. I can see Caroline intercept him before he gets very far. I almost feel bad for him. He has no idea what he got himself into.
“So, what’s the plan?” Angel looks at me expectantly.
“I’m sorry. What plan?”
“Well, its Friday and funerals are so depressing. We should go out and live a little. Go out to the club, party it up. We need to live while we can.”
“And what about John? Won’t it be past his bedtime?”
“Come on. John’s not that old.”
“Angel, John could tell us what it was like when they discovered fire.”
“It’s not like you’ve never dated an older guy.” He glances over at Julio.
“Julio wasn’t that much older than me and clearly younger than John. He was just sick.”
“Julio wasn’t sick. He had HIV. You knew that twenty years ago. What did you think was going to happen? He wasn’t getting younger and he wasn’t getting better. I’m glad you left him when you did. It would have sucked if you had to watch him die.”
Angel and I have this argument every time we meet. And every time it hurts. What would he have done if I had been positive?
I found out Julio was positive shortly after we started dating. I was young, but I was not stupid. I knew Julio was positive. I may not be able to pronounce the drug names, but I recognized them. Any gay man would have. It was on the back of everyone’s mind and tomorrow any one of us could be the next statistic. I noticed that he had frequent doctors’ appointments, but ignored them. He was careful and I didn’t want to see it for what it was.
Angel and I had drinks one night and Julio was invited. He couldn’t come. He was sick. Again. “Maybe he has HIV,” Angel replied. “You see all the pills he keeps taking. Like a walking pharmacy. Better to find out now. Get yourself tested. What if he is positive? What are you going to do?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I had been thinking about it for weeks afraid to ask Julio if it was true . But I knew it was.
“If he’s been lying to you about this, you should probably break up with him. What else has he been lying about all this time?”
“Three months is not a long time”
“Long enough for him to tell you the truth. Aren’t you afraid of getting HIV? Do you really want to watch him die?”
“Of course, I’m afraid of getting HIV. And I’m not going to watch him die.”
“I wouldn’t date him if he was positive. There’s no way I could sit through all the nights at hospitals and getting tested all the time. It’s just not worth it.”
I did confront Julio about it a few days later. He confirmed what I already knew was true . He was positive. He cried. The man broke down and cried when he told me. He was so afraid that I would leave, that I wouldn’t want to be with him, that he kept coming up with excuses not to tell me.
“I’m not like everyone else, Julio. I’m not going to walk away so easily. I love you.” And I did. For the first time in my life I meant it. “Just promise me you won’t die on me.”
“Te prometo,” Julio whispered. I promise.
Liar.
I was idealistic, thinking that love would keep us together. I was young and stupid. We spent two years having a normal relationship, or at least what we thought was normal. He was HIV positive. That was a fact, the same way that he had black hair, or brown eyes. It was just another part of the whole.
“I was there.”
Angel wrinkles his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“I was there when he died. And the two months before that. And I would do it again if I had the chance.”
“Oh, my god, Chris. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I think John is looking for you.”
Angel walks away shaking his head. I don’t know if he will ever understand why I stayed with Julio as long as I did or why I went back twenty years later, but I do. I loved him. I still do.
This needs to be over. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Slowly the line of people trickles down to a mulling crowd in the room. I see Ric chatting with one of the Flanagan’s sons and I walk over.
“Ric, I’m sure Casey has better things to do than talk to you.”
Casey sees his opening and pleads homework before running off.
“Sweetie, you are no fun at all.”
“You would have gone to jail if you had gotten any closer to that boy. Have you seen Caroline or Angel? I don’t see either of them.”
“I’m sure they’re around somewhere. I’ll round them up and we’ll meet you outside. It looks like everyone else is leaving.”
The last of the stragglers were making their way to the door. The room was rapidly clearing out. It must be past seven.
“I’m just going to finish up a few things in here. I’ll meet you outside. I should only be a few minutes.”
Ric shrugs and makes his way to the front door. He’s the last one out and then there is silence.
Everyone is finally gone. It looks like no one was here. Nothing looks touched. The flowers haven’t moved. The chairs are still in the same neat lines. The only thing giving away the number of people recently in this room is the number of signatures recorded in the guestbook. I look at the list surprised again by the number of people who came, and the number of people who didn’t.
I glance at my watch. It’s just past 7:15. The wake ended at seven. I should probably head out. I still have to be functional for the funeral service tomorrow morning.
I hear the front door open and then click shut. Someone’s probably checking in on me. I told them I’d be right out, but that was almost twenty minutes ago.
“I’m on my way out now. I just want to make sure I didn’t forget anything,” I say to the room with my back turned. I can’t take my eyes off of Julio. This may be the last time that I see his face.
“You’ve never looked at anyone else like that since him, have you? Twenty years is a long time to hold on. I’m pretty sure you can let go now. You’re not Rose and this isn’t the Titanic,” says a voice from the opposite end of the room.
I can’t turn around. I can’t believe he’s here. I can’t believe he showed up. Chase.
Chase was something else. He was the only one I could never say no to, but the one I was always cleaning up after.
Chase was my first boyfriend in high school and my first love. I would do anything for him and he knew that. When we broke up after high school to “explore our options,” he wanted to stay friends. True to form I couldn’t say no.
I was his backup plan and safety net all rolled into one. Everyone knew it, including Julio. He watched me pick up Chase over and over. Julio knew Chase was toxic, but he couldn’t stop me from saving him from his latest tragedy and picking up my pieces when Chase disappeared again.
A series of emotions overcomes me before I even have a chance to turn around. One came to the forefront and spoke for the rest as I faced the room. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I just came to see an old friend. Am I not allowed to say goodbye?” He almost looks offended.
The mental dam breaks and so does my verbal filter. “This should be your funeral, not his. And you’d probably be late to that too since no one would be able to find you.” I’m shocked at my own words, but I don’t let the surprise show on my face. I keep my face hard and even. Part of me wants a response, and part of me knows it would be bullshit. I don’t have time for bullshit, especially from him.
“It doesn’t matter where I’ve been. I’m here now. Isn’t that all that matters?”
“Whatever.” I start to pace in from of the casket. “How long before you disappear this time? Will this time be the time I find you in a ditch, dead? Should I be expecting a call from the police to identify your body?”
Chase stammers, “Listen, I know I’m late . . .”
“Yeah, twenty years too late,” I shoot back. “You know you were the reason that Julio and I stopped talking, right? Oh, that’s right. You didn’t stick around long enough to hear about that, did you?”
Julio had come home late from work one night and took a shortcut down a narrow side street. The streetlights had blown out, but he knew the area well. Well enough to avoid the junkies and panhandlers lining the street late at night. It was the fastest way home for him and the fastest way to get from the local bars to main strip of clubs. You could always see drunken college students having existential conversations with people too high to know their own name.
This is where Julio found Chase that night. Huddled on a staircase, staring blankly into space. Julio called Chase’s name and even waved in his direction. Nothing. He walked over to check on him, but still no response. His eyes were dilated and his skin was cool and clammy. He did not look good.
Julio got him up and in a cab with him. They went straight to the ER. Chase was diagnosed with an overdose of heroin and was admitted to the hospital. He was there for two days before he checked himself out.
Chase called me the day he checked out of the hospital. I was at work and his call went to my voicemail. He gave me a short version of what happened followed by, “Julio can fill you in on the rest.”
I didn’t hear back from Chase after that. Not for years and never directly.
I have never been so angry in my life. Not at Chase for his drug induced blackouts. Not at Angel for his misguided attempts at youth. Not at Ric for his uninhibited debauchery. Not at Caroline for her ill-timed dramatic endeavors. Chase could have died in that hospital and Julio never told me. He kept it from me for three days and I had to hear about it from a voicemail.
I went to Julio’s house in a rage. I yelled. I screamed. I cried. Eventually I walked out the door and never looked back. Deep down I knew it wasn’t Julio’s fault, but he was an easy scapegoat. I wanted to hurt someone like I had been hurt. And I did. I tore apart the two years we had spent together and threw it in his face. I remember hearing him say, “Te amo,” I love you, as I walked to the door for the last time. I didn’t even turn around when I replied, “That’s not good enough anymore.”
Looking into Chase’s eyes all these years later brought back all the anger I had then, but this time Chase was in front of me to feel my fury and Julio couldn’t shield him.
“What are you really doing here?” I looked Chase in the eye daring him to lie to me.
“I’m just here to pay my respects.” He looks down at his feet.
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
“Bullshit. You could have sent a card. You could have left me a voicemail. You didn’t. You waited until everyone was gone for a reason. So what . . . do you . . . want?”
Chase pulls one of the chairs out of line and sits down. “Since you’re asking, I need a favor.”
I snort. “Taxes, death, and you.”
“What?”
“Three things that are guaranteed to ruin my life. Ask your favor so I can say no and we can both move on from this traumatic event.”
Chase pauses and then blurts out, “I need to borrow five hundred dollars. Just for a few weeks. I kind of have to find a new place to stay and I need the money for a deposit. It’s not like I’m using the money for drugs or anything.”
I stare at Chase for a full minute unsure if I am in shock or impressed at his audacity. We are sitting in a funeral home with my ex in a casket behind me and he thinks this was a good time to ask me for money?
“Get out,” I whisper.
“I mean, it’ll only be for two or three weeks,” Chase continues. “I’ll give it back.”
“Get. The fuck. Out,” I whisper again.
“If you don’t have it, it’s ok. I’ll figure something out, but even a little cash would help out a lot.”
Inside of me something breaks, but I don’t know if it’s my heart or my mind.
“As far as I’m concerned, you lost the right to ask for my help when you walked out of my life twenty years ago with a voicemail.”
“I realize that may have not been the best choice, but . . .”
“When? When did you realize that? When you woke up in the hospital and didn’t tell anyone where you were? Or was it when you asked Julio to lie for you and then you called me anyway? Or was it today when you walked into a funeral home to ask me for money? At what point did you realize what an arrogant, self-centered asshole you are?”
“So, I’ll take that as a no?”
“I’m burying him tomorrow,” I say pointing in Julio’s direction. “I buried you twenty years ago. I can’t do this. I can’t keep wondering if you’re dead or alive. I’m done.”
Something salty runs over my lips and I realize I am crying. I don’t know if I’m crying for Julio’s death or for Chase’s. All I know is that I need to cry. I need to let it out.
Chase stands up without saying a word. He looks at me, glances at Julio behind me, and then back at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I can see the moment he makes his decision. He turns around and walks out the front door. I hear the click as the door shuts behind him. I let go of the breath I am holding.
I sit there in silence refusing to admit the last ten minutes just happened. I hear the door click open and brace myself for Chase’s return.
“Sweetie, Chase just walked out of here with all of his arms and legs so I’m going to assume that he killed you unless you tell me otherwise,” Ric shouts from the doorway.
“I’m fine,” I shout back.
Caroline peeks her head around the door frame and elbows her way past Ric when she sees me. “Sugar, you know we would have claimed self-defense if you had killed him. Bless his heart, but he deserves it.”
“That’s an understatement,” I mumble.
“I’m guessing Angel disappeared when the drama started?”
“He said something about what’s-his-name feeling sick. Personally, sweetie, I think Angel was feeling sober. I know that would make me want to leave.”
I sit in the chair Chase had recently vacated wiping away the last tears I would shed for him. I can’t waste any more time cleaning up after him. He only worries about himself and I’m the asshole sitting here waiting for him to change.
I was the one that needed to change. I need to let go of my past and start looking to my future. Julio is gone and Chase may never come back into my life, and I’m ok with that.
“Fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em both.” My breathing is hard and my heart is still pounding. My fists gradually unclench and I grab my knees to steady myself.
“Just take a minute and breathe, sweetie. If that doesn’t work, I’m sure my friend Jack Daniels can help.”
“No, I’m good. I just need a minute,” I reply. “I’ll be ok.”
“Sugar, stop lying to yourself,” Caroline chides. You will not be ok. And that is ok. You’re allowed to be mad. You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to lose control every once in a while. You’re allowed to be human.”
I look up at Julio remembering his raspy laugh from smoking too many cigarettes. I can see the wrinkles around his eyes that bunch up when he smiles. His hands rest on his broad chest. He went to the gym as often as he could to make up for his lack of height. I see all of these things when I look at him and I know that I never stopped loving him. I stopped seeing these things because I let Chase get in the way. I let my past get in the way of my future.
“Guys, can I just get one more minute? I promise I’ll be right out. And Ric, I’m feeling a little parched, so you may want to keep Jack around.”
“Sugar, you take all the time you need. I’ll make sure Moses doesn’t go looking for the promised land when the next boy walks by.”
“Good luck with that,” I laugh. “Ric has never been one to do anything in moderation.”
“Don’t be jealous, sweetie,” Ric replies. “I just take advantage of the bountiful pleasures God has given us. And God has been good to me.”
“Get outside before I tan your hide,” Caroline says exasperated. “I swear to Jesus, I will exorcise you on the steps of the funeral home if you try anything crazy.”
**********
Sorry about all the drama. Old habits die hard, I guess. You’re being buried tomorrow so this is it. This is your last shot to yell at me because I left the bathroom light on, or tell me you forgot my birthday. This is the last chance we have to fight over something ridiculous, so you’re not so perfect. So I don’t love you as much as I do. So my heart won’t break when I walk out the door. This is the last chance for you to lie to me and tell me that everything will be ok. But you did. And I’m still here. And everything is not ok.
Twenty years is a long time to not talk. It’s a long time to be in love with you. It’s a long time to hold on. Twenty years is a long time to not love anyone else. A long time to hold on. Too long.
We had our chance and we lived it. We weren’t perfect, but I wouldn’t change the time we had together for anything. And now it’s over. I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . I’m going to miss you. Goodbye.
A wonderfully well-written story packed with emotion and realism about love/hate relationships. I felt as though I were sitting in the front row at the funeral home.
That certainly was a lot of drama and dredged up relationships all happening in a single wake! You certainly seem to have an intimate relationship with funerals and homosexual life to write such a well filled out story like this.
I felt as though I was there with you as I read. The sign of a very good writer. I have a homosexual trend who has written a novel recently about his native Galveston, Two Left Shoes. I will forward the link to your story to him.
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