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He lived on a quiet cul-de-sac with a manicured lawn and a cute little white picket fence surrounding it. An apple tree grew to the corner of the lawn, spreading its bushy branches over the fence and onto the street. The exterior was painted in a simple black-and-white scheme that looked pulled out of a home design magazine, with the door being painted a bold blue. There were windows all around the home, with two tall ones bordering the front door, silky white curtains drawn shut.
“We’re home,” he said, closing my car door seeing as I was too busy gawking at his beautiful house.
Ryan unlocked the door and let me walk in first. It felt like I was entering a spa. The soft lavender-and-rose scent coming off a couple of diffusers filled the air and instantly put me at ease. The lamps slowly turned on, bathing the foyer in a warm orange glow. He had a couple of abstract paintings hanging up on the walls, different-colored paint splatters and plaster swirling over them. There was a tall console table made of polished wood and steel holding a row of family photos with some old Christmas cards sprinkled through them.
I picked up the one that caught my eye the most. A shot of Ryan when he was just a kid, holding the hands of an extremely fashionable pair, his mom and dad lifting him into the air between them as the photo was taken. They wore perfectly coordinated outfits, Ryan’s mom in a cool-as-hell multicolored windbreaker and perfectly torn-up jeans that complemented his dad’s color-blocked shirt and shorts. Ryan looked like a GAP Kids model with a backward blue hat and the cutest little button-up shirt I’d ever seen. “You look so happy here,” I said. “Everyone does.”
“We were,” Ryan replied, a soft smile draping his face. His normally bright eyes held a sadness in them as he looked at the photo in my hands.
“This was taken a few months before my mom’s diagnosis.”
My heart plummeted to the ground. “What did she have?”
“ALS. It was aggressive, and no matter what we tried, she just didn’t stand a chance. She passed a few days before my fifteenth birthday.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, busying himself with organizing the catch-all that held a few jingling keys. “Jesus, Ryan, I’m so sorry.” I examined the photo a little deeper, committing it to memory. It felt like a special piece of Ryan’s past captured in a timeless spell.
“You look just like her,” I say, almost to myself.
“Everyone said that. We had the same eyes, and our noses were similar, too. My dad was always a little jealous, but him and I have the same ears, so he can’t really complain.” Ryan chuckled and walked through the archway leading to the rest of his house. I gently placed the frame back where it belonged and followed Ryan, not surprised that his living room and kitchen were just as warm and inviting as the entrance to his home.
“Does your dad live nearby?” I asked, seeing another photo of them. This time, Ryan was older, probably closer to eighteen. He and his dad were at the lake, fishing poles in hand and matching smiles on their faces. It wasn’t only the ears they had in common. Both men seemed to be vibrating with positivity, apparent even through the photo. It made sense now, Ryan’s perpetual grin and kind aura; he had been looking up to a man who embodied the same things.
“About a fifteen-minute drive from here. We have a farm, so he’s always working on something or taking care of the animals,” Ryan said, speaking louder as he disappeared into his bedroom for a moment. He came back out wearing gym shorts and a green T-shirt. From the neck down, Ryan was all man (trust me, those shorts weren’t hiding a thing), but from the neck up, Ryan was still a stunningly gorge drag queen.
“So, instead of a drag detective, you could have ended up as a farm boy?” I asked, smirking his way.
Ryan caught his reflection in a window and started to laugh.
Gah damn, his laugh is infectious.
“I completely forgot I had this on,” Ryan said, turning to me with his big blue lips and masterfully done eyeshadow. He walked over to the sink and turned the water on.
“Oh baby, you’re going to need way more than tap water and dish soap to take all that off.” I swung my backpack off my shoulder, placing it on the couch and rummaging underneath clothes I had packed. “Come, let me help you.” I waved the makeup wipes, gentle face soap, and a couple of cotton wipes.
I stopped in front of the hall, turning to a smiling Ryan. “Which way’s the bathroom?”
“That door on the left,” Ryan said, pointing over my shoulder.
