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Mom laughed softly and brushed some stray hair out of her eyes. “I’m sure you are.”
Now that the initial introductions had passed, I asked, “Where’s Barry?”
“The library. He had to take over a shift for a sick coworker, but he’s so disappointed not to meet you both. He thinks the world of Peter.”
I snorted. I knew Barry liked me, but he still held a grudge about me puking on his shoes.
Robert guided us into the living room and suffered through my parents’ short interrogation with generous patience. He gave them the full tour, which didn’t take long, and then showed them some clips from the documentary he was putting together, crediting me for my help along the way.
Dad was impressed by what he saw, especially the interviews with a few retired drag queens recalling the loss of one of their mutual friends to a gay bashing in the eighties. “This is very important work. You’re revealing the humanity of drag, not just the entertainment and the camp.”
“Yes, it’s a beautiful narrative you’re working out,” Mom agreed. “I love how it shows drag artists are human beings walking through the world, making a life just like you and me.”
I sat down at my desk to sort and file the new mail piles that’d stacked up in the days since I’d last worked. I listened, amused, while Robert and Dad talked about the hyperfemininity of drag, and he and Mom discussed the planned beats of the film’s narrative. Robert glowed at their praise and preened when Dad declared the work worthy of analysis by Film Studies students.
“Don’t blow his head up too much,” I said, laughing. “Barry won’t be able to stand living with him.”
After running through a few more clips, Robert brought us all into the kitchen, where an old-fashioned floral tea set and a plateful of almond cookies sat neatly on the table. It looked at odds with the star-spangled walls and the modern-looking table and chairs.
“My memaw always said sharing some tea and cookies is the perfect way to start a new friendship,” Robert said, motioning toward the table. “This is her tea set. I had to steal it out from under the noses of half a dozen religious-minded cousins who were determined to keep me from having any piece of Memaw to remember her by.” He lifted his chin. “But I had a big purse and determination on my side.”
Mom put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry you’ve dealt with so much hatred from your own folks.”
“Family. Can’t live with ’em, but if you’re lucky, you sure as hellcanlive without ’em.” Robert smiled winningly. “Please have a seat.”
We sat around the table. Robert carefully poured us cups of tea, offering sugar and cream. I sipped the still-hot liquid and watched Robert reign over us like the queen he was.
“So, how did you meet your…” Dad didn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence.
“Boyfriend?” Robert asked.
“Yes,” Mom said, choosing a cookie and nibbling it daintily over her plate.
“Oh, that’s a good story.” Robert grinned, and I wondered why I’d never asked him about it before. “I was twenty-three, and I’d suffered a terrible breakup.” He lifted his hands dramatically. “My heart was absolutely shredded by this monster and, on top of that, my father had disowned me and forbidden my mother from seeing me until I’d repented. I had to get away before I lost my mind. So I took my savings and splurged on a cruise to the Bahamas. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”
He darted into his and Barry’s bedroom, returning with a small photo album. “Here’s a picture of the ship,” he said, flipping through the pages. “The Carnival line’sTropicale. And here’s my sweet baby, Barry.”
He turned the book so we could all see.
Barry stood behind a gleaming, well-stocked bar, sporting a goatee and a wickedly handsome smile. He looked younger, though I couldn’t peg just how: he was still bald, still strong, still had his eyebrow ring. But in the photo there was a brightness in his eyes that hadn’t vanished these days, but definitely seemed dimmer.
Robert stroked the picture. “I saw him, and my heart went bang. Like a cherry bomb going off in my chest.” He flipped the page to a picture of them in bathing suits, standing at the ship’s railing with arms around each other’s waists, and the sunset off the bow. “Then we started talking, and we had everything in common. He’s from Strawberry Plains, and I’m from Knoxville. We both like smoked salmon but not grilled. But to be honest, by the end of that first hour of simply watching him pour drinks, I was in love.”
Mom sighed dreamily and leaned on the kitchen table listening. Dad caught my eye and winked. I stifled a small laugh.
“Barry felt the same about me. By the time my ten-day cruise was over, he’d made plans to resign from the ship and to move with me here to Knoxville. We got this house together a few years back, and now we’re planning to build a place out on his family’s land.”
“How long have you been a couple now?” Mom asked.
“Six years this October.”
“Amazing!” She added, “And they say gay men can’t be monogamous!”
I kicked Mom under the table, and she shot me a confused glance.
“Oh, Mrs. Mandel,” Robert said, smiling sweetly. “Gay men can be as monogamous as any other type of man: which is to say exactly as monogamous as they want to be.”
“It really all comes down to free will, doesn’t it?” Dad asked.
