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“Momma!”I admonished, speaking louder and with more irritation than I’d intended. “I donotwant to meet Mr. and Mrs. Talbot’s daughter. You know I’m not so inclined. I’ve told you hundreds of times.”
“I’m not convinced you truly feel that way, honey. And Trish is such a sweet young lady, bless her little heart,” she cooed. “And I hear she favors fair-haired boys.”
I laid one side of my face on the cool marble counter, phone to the other ear, wondering why she never gave up. “I won’t show up at Daddy’s event if you keep trying to fix me up,” I stated, pissed that my own mother wasn’t accepting that I actuallywasgay. My father and I simply ignored the fact so I couldn’t blame him in this instance. “I could bring Phillip as my date,” I reminded her.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. “He wouldn’t show up anyway. At least not on your arm.”
Momma was right. Phillip Honeycutt wouldn’t be seen at a high-visibility function like my father’s promotion to CEO without a southern belle. He was too much of a social climber to make that mistake. The sad truth was I still played his game of secrecy with the same skill he did. My only problem, and the real threat to his dynastic ambitions, was that I was tired of hiding.
“I have to go, Momma. I hear Phillip’s key in the door.”
She lowered her voice. “Why is it you can have a secret boyfriend yet not fake your way through a dinner with a girl on your arm for your father?” she asked. “You already hide your love away, honey, and that’s not fair to you,” she stated. “How is it any different if you pretended you liked a nice girl like Trish, honey? I mean, really. Can you explain that to me?”
“I don’t have the time to begin to explain that to you,” I admitted. “I love you, Momma.”
She’d said her piece about my predicament and could now check it off her to-do list. “Wear somethingextra, honey. Can you do that?”
My mother knew I was the best dressed family member when the occasion warranted, so she sure as hell didn’t have to remind me to look good for Daddy’s big promotion. “I know, Momma. Black tie.”
“OK, honey. And you’re absolutely positive about not meeting Trish Talbot?” she asked in her typicalpush until you get your wayfashion.
“Momma!”
“Alright then, honey. I love you.”
I heard the lock click and braced myself for the storm that was Phillip. After nearly ten years of beingtogether, you’d think things would be easier, perhaps even healthier. For one I was tired of playing musical condos with my boyfriend. Not to mention constantly hiding the fact hewasgay from everyone but thein-the-knowfriends. Thein-the-knows, as we called them, were acquaintances that either knew our secret and were also gay, or were trusted and gay-friendly folks who didn’t give a hoot who we slept with. That didn’t mean Phillip didn’t threaten them within an inch of their lives if they gave us up.
The two of us have been sneaking around since tenth grade. What started out as jacking off together during sleepovers, quickly evolved into full blown sex and young love. We were inseparable if you didn’t count the many interruptions of brief romances with girls in high school. There hadn’t been a chance in hell we’d make Charleston’s local news by going to prom together, so a stable of reliable girlfriends was needed. Some were in on the charade and a handful weren’t.
We even attended the same college, making sure to travel far enough away that we could share an apartment while setting up our first household. Neither of our families questioned the arrangement because we were best friends in their minds, but they sure as hell questioned our college choices. We’d gone west to a school in California, an abomination to southern families like ours. A traditional southern student from anestablishedfamilystayed home and attended the only true USC, which was The University of South Carolina, notof Southern California.
Surprisingly, Phillip had liked the idea of an out-of-state college knowing it’d be much easier to carry on there than under our parent’s noses. His folks would have been more the issue compared to mine considering he was a fifth generation lawyer and also the fifth Phillip Honeycutt in a row. There was no way living with a man in Charlestown, South Carolina would have been tolerable for the other twostill-livingPhillips, his father and grandfather.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” he asked, tossing his keys noisily onto our expensive cherrywood table in the hall.
“That’s a two-thousand dollar console table your keys just scratched,” I reminded him. “That’s why I put a basket there for you, Phillip.”
“Screw your fancy table.” He loosened his tie and headed for the liquor trolley, pouring a scotch, then downing the first one before refilling. “I told Charles we’d meet him and John at Tableau at seven.” Tableau was the latest must visit restaurant in Charleston.
“Is Charles bringing his wife this time?”
“Grow up, Hayes,” he said, rolling his eyes from across the room. “I need him on my side.”
“At the cost of your friendship with Julia?” I didn’t enjoy our friendship with Charles since he’d begun an affair with one of the up and coming stars at his financial company. A man. “Cheating on one’s spouse is gross,” I said.
“Gross?” he questioned. “You need to chill. It’s what we do to navigate through society here in the south. Besides, Hayes, that’s rich, coming from you of all people.”
His hurtful defense of bad marital behavior upset me and he knew it. “There’s a huge difference between hiding an affair and hiding the true nature of one’s sexuality, and do not forget who made that decision,” I reminded him. “And not to mention that we didn’t pledge our love and devotion in front of God and family, Phillip. We’re allowed to hide our relationship from family because we aren’t hurting anyone but ourselves.”
He plopped on the couch and glared at me. “Can we not do this tonight?” he urged. “I’ve had a long day.”
“Do what?” I asked.
He picked at a piece of lint on the arm of his suit jacket, sighing dramatically. “You’re becoming bitter. Have you noticed that?” he asked. “Judgmental as well.”
I turned my back to him and took a deep breath. I could start this argument with him again, or I could resist the temptation of making my point.What would it be?I decided I couldn’t let the opportunity of making my point go by. “It’s wrong, Phillip. You know it. I know it. And I hate being complicit in this type of behavior.”
“We are doing the same fucking thing, Hayes.”
