“But they knew…”
He shook his head. “This isn’t about Mom and Dad, what they knew, what they didn’t. I asked about you, about remembering that fear and terror that sat in the pits of our stomachs. The times we got beat up at school for being fags. The times we got kicked in the balls just for sharing the showers with the guys. The times were excluded because they were afraid that the Gay Boys couldn’t keep their hands off the straights. How many times we lied about where the bruises and the cuts and detentions for skipping class came from?”
I hadn’t thought about it in a very long time. Once I was out of high school, I embraced being a gay man. I didn’t hide, I forgot everything I could about high school, despite the scars—literal and figurative—that Noah and I carried. I wanted to just be me.
“You lead a bit of a charmed gay life, you know?”
I swiveled my head to stare at him.
He shrugged. “You do. Think about it. You came out to parents who were supportive, and after high school moved into a sphere of life where gay was par for the course. You live in a world where probably half the people you know, work for, and are friends with, are gay. That’s not the way the world is.”
“Do you think—”
“Shut up and let me finish, big brother,” he snapped, but not unkindly. “I know we all face prejudices. I just think that you forget how bad it really can be.” He reached down and pulled up the leg of his pants, revealing a huge, blossoming purple bruise on the side of his calf.
“Holy shit, Noah…”
“That is from Fineman slamming my leg in the door in the Lyft the other day,” he explained.
“I thought you and Fineman were good.”
“Fineman and I have a gentleman’s agreement. We don’t interact. We email questions, we chat questions, and only in desperation will we seek out the other in person. His hatred is so thick it chokes rooms.”
“Closet case?”
“No. He’s a genuine, non-religious homophobe. There aren’t a lot of them out there, the ones that didn’t have religion fueling them. But he’s one, and he’s fuckingterrifying. Just for having the balls to accept a Lyft share with two other guys in the office, he slammed the door on my leg. No one saw it—not pretended not to see, they didn’t see it. There was nothing I could do. He’s a bastard of the worst kind, and I can’t get him fired because he’s not obvious about his attacks.”
“Attacks? Plural?”
“Yes, plural. If there were an opportunity for this man to send me to the border camps, he would. If we had gas chambers, he would have offered me up as a test subject. And that’s what I have to deal with every day. He’s not the only one who doesn’t like my lifestylechoice,” Noah gave the word air quotes, “but he’s the worst. The most cruel. The rest just kind of are there.”
“Can’t you go somewhere else?”
“Danton Rego Financial Strategies is the top. If I left, I would never find something that pays as well or lets me do what I really love. I’m surrounded by hypermasculinity all day, every day. Why the fuck do you think my entire collection of underwear consists of sexy little jocks and ass showcasing boy shorts? I need to feel like who I know I am. There’s a reason I tend to be effeminate. I need to own who I am when I can. Being out and working with those jocks and manwhores can be overwhelming. I’m notnottelling you this because I want your help, or I want you to feel pity for me.”
He turned on the couch and drew his leg up. “I’m telling you because I don’t think you really understand how utterly and completely terrified Austin is of coming out. Even though music and entertainment industries are supposed to be progressive, there are still enough of the Finemans in the world that they make it terrifying.”
Noah pointed to his leg. “He sees this. He hears the bashing. He listens to slurs and innuendos. We did too, when we were coming out. It’s all you hear.
“He doesn’t hear his bandmates silent support. He doesn’t hear the fans out there, the baby queers, begging for support. He doesn’t even realize that his sister doesn’t give a flying shit who he loves,as long as he loves. The hate is loud, loud, loud. And he’s scared.”
“I don’t want to be his dirty secret.”
“I’m not saying that,” Noah groused. “I’m saying, don’t write him off. Don’t cut off contact. Let him see how you live life. Text, talk on the phone. Invite him to Gaggle Gatherings. You don’t have to hold his hand or sit near him, but let him see what it’s like to be gay. For real. With the support we have.”
He patted me on my knee and stood. “Next time you’re going to paint, please warn me so I can make sure that you have the chocolate and fruit ready?”
I nodded, and he headed out of the room. He paused at the door.
“And for the record? If you ever want to feel really powerful in a room full of homophobes? May I recommend the red sequined jock?”
He closed the door as I cracked up laughing.
Austin
Uri: Hey, A.
Uri: Just checking on you.
