Artwork By: anon-nee
Blurb
Vincent Moore rediscovers his bisexuality and aromanticism, dug up by the memory of a forgotten face.
Content Warnings
Smoking, Spousal Abuse, Parental Abuse (physical and emotional), Police Incompetence, Conversion Therapy, Religious Trauma, Past Bullying, PTSD, Flashbacks, Depression, Divorce, Restraining Orders, Vomit (one scene), Alcohol, Blood Entrails Referenced (Costume, Not Real)
*If I missed any content warnings, please contact me at authormicahflowers@yahoo.comand I will update them as soon as possible.
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June 2013
A bride and groom-to-be shared a unisex bathroom. Both stifled laughter as guests exchanged words outside the door. “Have you seen Vince? Have you seen Kinsley? It’s thirty minutes until the reception starts! Where did you see them last?” The interaction ended with footsteps fading away from the restroom, Vince and Kinsley uncovering their mouths.
“Whew,” Kinsley said. “That was a close one.”
She sparked up a cigarette as Vince got up to open the tiny window. He briefly peeked out of it, looking at the nearby barn. Dozens of relatives gathered in front of the red door, where folding chairs were set up. An archway of flowers sat at the entrance. He spotted his father Todd in conversation with Kinsley’s father Henry, visibly angry. With a sigh, Vince broke away.
“I bet you they think we bailed,” he said, sitting by her on the floor.
Kinsley offered him a puff. “It might be a bit too obvious we aren’t into each other.”
“Yeah…I didn’t think about that. We’re really gonna have to sell that kiss.”
“No kidding. Ugh, this sucks.”
Though the attendees believed they were celebrating romantic, heteronormative love, Kinsley and Vince bore no such feelings for one another. The rings and the ceremony were a smoke screen, a way to flee abusive homes. Only one person knew the truth–Vince’s mother, Tabitha. She swore to keep the truth close to her heart, knowing the risk of it getting out.
Bangs startled the two. “Vincent, I know you’re in there,” Todd’s coarse voice yelled from the other side. “Get out here right now.”
Vince groaned. Counting to three with Kinsley, he opened the door. Upon seeing the bride behind him, Todd scowled.
“Your daddy’s lookin’ for you, Kinsley. Why don’t you go speak with him?” he said, eyes not leaving Vince once.
Kinsley looked sheepishly at Vince before walking away, dress-ends in her hands. Todd grabbed Vince by the neck, pulled him close. His breath reeked of vodka like usual.
“Tell me you ain’t stupid enough to break your promise to God. You two better not have been fooling around in there,” he said bitterly.
Breaking away, Vince scoffed. He brushed off his skin as if Todd left disease behind with his touch. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I ain’t. I know how unclean you teenagers are. Swear to me you didn’t do anything.”
Normally, Vince would appease him, feed him what he wanted to hear. Knowing he was a mere hour away from being in his home–a real one not marred by cruelty and pain–pushed him towards indifference. He leaned in close, glowering up at his father.
“Fuck. You. I don’t have to tell you shit. It’s between me and God,” he said, a grin slowly breaking out on his face. “How’s that sound?”
Vince sauntered off quickly, rushing to get in front of other people to minimize the chance of Todd retaliating. Grass crunched beneath his feet as he entered the crowd by the barn. Kinsley was there too, getting scolded by her parents for being out before the reception began. Vince came to her side, capturing her waist with one arm.
“Vincent,” Henry said, frowning as he crossed his arms. “Surely you aren’t okay with breaking tradition, too?”
Vince wasn’t having it. Henry and Todd were two sides of the same coin; both vicious to their spouses and children. “Well, I figured a bit of rule breaking would be fine, considering y’all took most of the planning into your own hands. Me and Kins didn’t get much of a say.”
Ignoring Vince’s lip, Henry insisted that the two return to the dressing room until Kinsley’s mom retrieved them. Vince got ready for trouble, but his fiance dragged him away. Slipping into the dressing room on the opposite side of the venue, both sighed unanimously in agitation. Kinsley took a seat at a vanity, Vince sitting beside her.
“It’s almost over,” she said, nervously jittering her leg as she checked her makeup. “We’re so close, Vince. We can do this.”
Though Vince’s heart sang at the prospect, he couldn’t help but think of Tabitha. She’d be stuck in Todd’s clutches while he ran free. It wasn’t right. He wished they could sneak her out, ensure she’d never have to deal with her husband again. As if reading his mind, Kinsley tousled his hair.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get her away from Todd as soon as we can.”
September 2014
Music echoed through Vince’s home as he walked through the front door with his mom. Tabitha went down the hall, dabbing her eyes with a cloth. The two just returned from a trip to the police station, where her testimony against her husband was curtly dismissed. As soon as the pair got home, she signed to him in ASL that she’d be going straight to bed. He didn’t blame her one bit.
First, Vince prepped ingredients for dinner, relishing in the lovely music notes resonating from the living room. Then, he went to the source; Kinsley playing a favorite classical piece of hers. Her eyes were closed in concentration, hands busy. He smiled at the sight, waiting quietly until the melody ended. She opened her sharp blue eyes, setting her violin down as she glanced at him.
Releasing her sea-green hair from a ponytail, she greeted, “How’d it go?”
Vince blew a raspberry. “Just peachy. We’re gonna have to take him to court.”
A month to the day, Vince and Kinsley assisted Tabitha in fleeing Todd’s home after a full year of planning. It was worth the bullet hole in the front bumper of Kinsley’s car and dozens of threatening calls. Vince let Todd rattle off the threats–he never knew where Vince and Kinsley moved, so they were safe. The main issue would be convincing the police and courts to take action, allowing Tabitha to divorce without his consent. She didn’t want to wait the full required year of living separately to be rid of him.
Kinsley furrowed her eyebrows as he crossed his arms. “I thought you guys got a restraining order?”
“We tried, but it was denied. Lack of sufficient evidence.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s whatever, we’ll figure it out. How are you?”
“Same old. No complaints. Been playin’ on this old thing all day.”
“You sounded great like always,” he said, followed with a grumble. “I’ll be in bed for a bit.”
There, Vince melted beneath his comforter. Face half-smushed against a pillow, he mindlessly flipped through channels on the tiny TV atop his dresser. When he reached children’s channels, he locked on a familiar show name—Secrets of Etraria. A pair of doe-like brown eyes from the past flashed into his mind. Chills worked down his spine as his throat dried.
He couldn’t relax at dinner, nor later that night while Kinsley rested next to him. He and Kinsley still didn’t have your typical marriage. The two never kissed after the obligatory ‘you may kiss the bride.’ They never had sex. But she was his best friend and meant the world to him. When he met her in junior year, she’d outclassed him in comic book knowledge. From then on, their platonic spark was undeniable. She often helped him through the pain he’d been subjected to, and he always returned the favor.
Not tonight. He recalled the day he’d been shipped off to conversion camp, the result of his father discovering eyeshadow in his room. The whole drive to Idaho, he’d emptied his mind, thinking about one person—his sunshine who could double as a cooling breeze. He thought of them from that moment until the camp’s violence became too much to bear. He’d dissociated and lost most of his memories pre high school. Now, his sun was in his mind again, albeit in flashes. A kiss here, an embrace there. Their giggles echoed around, as thrilling as their smile as they painted his nails. He let out a sigh of frustration, waking Kinsley.
“What’s the matter?” she mumbled.
He stared up at the ceiling. “Nothin’.”
She shifted, facing him. “Are you sure?”
“It’s silly. Just thinkin’ of an old partner of mine.”
“I thought you said you didn’t date nobody before me?”
“It wasn’t dating. It was something different.” Something I still can’t comprehend. “It had all the flags of a romance, but it wasn’t one.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Well…”
How could he put them into words? Especially since he couldn’t remember much except they were indescribably beautiful. Vince could only imagine what they looked like now. All that aside, he wasn’t ready to talk about them yet.
But he could certainly delve into the memory the show resurfaced, drowning in his loved one’s doe-eyes.
November 2008
“Sorry, Polly, but I don’t want your tea. I’d rather have mine!”
Vince chuckled as two fairies conversed on a television screen. He lay on the floor with his partner, Bug, watching Secrets of Etraria. They chimed the dialogue beat-for-beat, switching voices for each character. All the while, they fidgeted with Vince’s hands and happily kicked their feet. Their room comforted him as always, bursting with pastel pinks, purples, yellows and enough stuffed animals to fill a lake.
This ‘partner’ business lasted longer than Vince expected. The agreement saw them share physical affection, lots of time together, and Bug gifted Vince a devotion he wasn’t sure he deserved. He anticipated Bug would get tired of his clingy nature quickly. They flipped his fear on its head, granting him all the attention he desired and more. They were always a call away, and he basically lived with them during any free time. And perhaps best of all, the pair knew each other like second nature. With all these green lights, though, dread still twirled in Vince’s mind. Good things never lasted long in his life. The crash was imminent.
Bug trailed their fingers down his arm. “You seem sad.”
“I am,” Vince said. “I don’t wanna go home.”
He never did. Bug and their older sister Esha were Vince’s safe haven, a respite from Hell itself. And he especially loved being around Bug, absorbing their endless warmth.
“I wish I could steal you,” Bug said, playfully wiggling their eyebrows. “Keep you here forever.”
“That wouldn’t really be stealing.”
Sharing a laugh, the two snuggled closer. Bug squeezed his shoulder and kissed his forehead. Vince flushed like he always did, everything in him burning. The heat enveloped him, reducing him to ash. He adored it.
The joy tapered off into worry once more. Worry that Bug would grow tired of the lack of labels, demand a romantic confession. Weren’t kissing and cuddling and fawning all flags for romance? That’s what he’d been told in church, by his father and the other adults around him. You don’t mack on friends, you don’t desire them. Any day now, Bug would get agitated from skirting around normalcy.
He meekly spoke, “Are you still okay with the partner thing?”
“Yup.”
“Are you sure? You don’t want love or whatever?”
Smiling like they did the dozens of times he asked, they nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. I like what we have.”
With a smile of his own, Vince curled further into them.
December 2014
Twelve cupcakes filled a display case. Vince leaned over it with a piping bag, coating the tops in cream cheese frosting. He’d made his mother’s favorite—red velvet—after the stress of the first court hearing. She made her first public testimony, and so did Vince. Talking in front of so many people about his father soured the day’s mood. Even as he admired his work, he couldn’t muster any joy.
Placing the lid on the case, he sauntered off to the dining table. He popped open his laptop, checking his email. Still not hearing back from his newest client, he decided to work on another project. Cracking his knuckles, he opened up his go-to editing software. Having taken tech classes in high school, he naturally ended up pursuing photo manipulation. Now his main source of income, he created product mockups, book covers, and movie posters for small creators. Today, he’d be making a graphic for a slushie company.
As he threw a rough draft together, a string of drumbeats thumped in his head. He couldn’t pin the origin—just knew it was catchy enough to have him stomp his feet. After a while, it resembled an unscratched itch, driving him up the wall. He detoured into his web browser, trying to find the song it came from. No luck, even after ten minutes of digging. Frustrated, he circled back to his task.
Kinsley returned from work—an inventory specialist job for a grocery chain—in high spirits as usual. She always got a kick of energy upon return, excited to play music. Like always, she bopped the top of Vince’s hand, tousling his hair.
“Hello, husband!” she boomed in a silly voice. Her expression softened when he tossed a playful glare. “Is there a problem?”
“It’s not a ‘problem’ per se,” Vince said, watching her sit across. “I’ve got a song in my head, but I can’t find it.”
“Let me help. You know I love a good treasure hunt. Sing the part that’s in your head.”
He clapped his hands, poorly capturing the rhythm. “Oh God, that’s not what it sounds like. Let me try to remember a lyric…Something something something burning up?”
Pulling out her phone, Kinsley smiled. “I can work with that.”
For the next thirty minutes, she played several songs, none of which were a match. As always, her presence helped him work faster. He’d gotten a decent chunk done when her eyebrows lifted. “Think you found it?” he asked.
“Maybe.” Turning up the volume, she aimed the speaker at his ear. He shook his head immediately and she held up her hand. “Give it a second.”
As the song unfolded, deja vu crept in. Vince’s ears reddened at two realizations: this was indeed the song, and Bug showed it to him. Lost in a sea of nostalgia, he barely registered Kinsley speaking.
“Is this the right one?
“Yup. That’s the one. Who’s singing it?”
“A very beautiful woman with the stage-name Cowgirl Trinity.”
The two began to dance, and she splayed a hand on his waist. “You ready to talk about them?”
Vince matched her steps, taking a noisy breath. “I don’t believe in God. But if I did, I’d think he sent them to me,” he told her. “Their name’s Bug. They saved me from bullies, made one of ‘em near shit himself. We got really close. But of course Todd put a stop to it.”
“Fuck that old bastard,” she said. “Tell me more about Bug.”
Bashing open locked boxes of memories, he told her what he remembered. It wasn’t much now, a few scattered instances. He spoke of how he loved trying on their dresses. “They’d do my makeup, make me look real pretty. I remember feeling like the cutest thing in town. Sometimes they’d call me a princess.”
Unaware of the tears spilling down his face, Kinsley wiped them away. “They sound like a good person.”
“They were…are?” His shoulders tensed. “I wish I knew what happened to them. Or…even what they look like now.”
Vince pictured an older Bug. He surmised they would likely be taller and bigger than him, just like before. Imagining their gorgeous smile weathered with age made his heart flutter. Fantasies flurried about in his thoughts, quickly escalating. Overwrought and mortified, he broke away from Kinsley and paused the music.
“I’m gonna make dinner…clear my head,” he said.
Kinsley didn’t get a word in before he slinked away into the kitchen. Right then, his mom bounded up, rubbing her eyes.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, facing her. “I made you cupcakes.”
Her eyes widened and she ran to the display case. Letting her joy infect him, his negative emotions dissipated as she plucked one and took a bite.
February 2009
Sprawled out on a rug, Vince and Bug shared pink-and-white frosted cupcakes. Tabitha made the batch for Valentine’s Day, imploring Vince to bring some to Bug and Esha. The latter devoured two before secluding herself in her room to nap. This left Vince and Bug alone playing CDs. He brought a couple albums from home at Bug’s request. For the first album, they poorly hid their disgust via focusing on the sweets. But as the treats vanished and the second EP started, their face contorted in discomfort. They wound up staring at Vince in disbelief, making him laugh.
“What?” Vince asked.
“This is rough.”
“Well…I don’t really listen to music other than what my old man likes.” he admitted.
Todd did his best to erase Vince and Tabitha’s personalities and interests. He banned cable TV so neither could ‘get any ideas.’ Any time one of the two picked up a hobby, he’d crush it and try to reconfigure it to his tastes. It was always his music, his movies, his shows, his rules. Anything Vince enjoyed—aka the handful of media Tabitha accumulated behind Todd’s back—had to be consumed in secret, out of sight. As Bug stared, he actualized how abnormal this behavior was.
“Damn, that’s why this sucks. Let me play you some real music.” They shuffled through their pile of cds, flashing a cover at him. “Cowgirl Trinity is gonna rock your world, Vince.”
Rock his world Cowgirl Trinity did. The intro song hooked him in an instant, putting a grin on his face as he bopped his head. “I ain’t ever heard anything like this before,” he noted.
“Yeah, cause this is Black music. Ain’t nobody doing it like we are,” they said with a smile, plucking a few more albums. “How about I help you branch out?”
After cleaning up cupcake wrappings, Bug and Vince danced atop the rug. This went on until the album slowed to a lull. Enraptured by the switch-up, the partners lay side-to-side, focusing on listening. All that played were ‘love songs,’ yet Vince couldn’t help but ponder the feelings Cowgirl Trinity described. It didn’t feel romance exclusive, mirroring the desire Bug elicited merely by existing. Hearing it put into words twisted up his guts as he asked himself for the millionth time—What the fuck are we?
Bug’s warm hand took his. “You’re so far away.”
Coming closer, Vince latched to their hip and draped an arm over their chest. “Better?”
“Mhm.” An amused smile formed on their lips. “You’re poking me.”
At first, Vince didn’t know what they meant. When it clicked, he hurriedly broke away and tried to conceal himself. “I’m really, really sorry—”
They sat up, looking at him in confusion. “Hey, it’s okay. It wasn’t bothering me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Shame poisoned his bloodstream, making him run hot from embarrassment. Vince didn’t understand why Bug was so calm. They should berate him, call him unholy.
“Are you sure you don’t think I’m gross?” he asked sheepishly.
“No,” Bug clarified. “I mean, it’s just a part of your body, right?”
“Yeah…yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled. “Sorry for freaking out.”
“It’s okay. Now come back, silly.”
Vince did exactly that, cuddling up against their side and closing his eyes.
January 2015
Vince listened to Cowgirl Trinity every day, prompting Bug’s ghost to further haunt him. He found traces of them in nearly anything he did, memories popping up at an alarming rate. The floodgates now opened, he recalled pretty much everything he forgot.
Including the fact he was never straight.
Three years of brainwashing in Idaho made it easy for him to believe the opposite; that enough faking and praying and conforming could make him heterosexual. He’d become so scared of derailing from the norm that he successfully disregarded his true sexuality. But his whole life—even after the camp—Vince had eyes for anyone and everyone, gender irrelevant. Maybe it was finally time to embrace this, instead of running from it.
He dipped his toes into the LGBTQIA+ community, scouring forums and watching related media to start. Tabitha took him makeup shopping, happy to give him tips while he practiced. He learned he wasn’t a full-look kind of guy, but he loved a simple lip gloss and mascara pairing. Every morning, he applied the products and hyped himself up in the mirror. The experimentation trickled to his wardrobe, where he supplemented his flannel-shirt-jeans duplicates for flashy all-pink crop tops, patterned pants, and short-shorts.
It proved an excellent distraction for the chaos happening with Todd. His lawyer brought ‘evidence’—aka testimonies from Todd’s church friends—that no abuse occurred. Tabitha and Vince now had to work double-time to find ways to counter this information, though they were more than aware it was all false. These men knew all of Todd’s sins and still batted for him.
After a week-long stint of Vince trying out drag looks, Tabitha brought up the idea of him doing an amateur night. Kinsley loved this, nodding eagerly in agreement when Tabitha signed the sentence. Vince was impressed how quickly she picked up the language to better communicate with his mother. She looked at him, awaiting his response.
“I’d wanna see a show first,” Vince said.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Kinsley asked. “Let’s find one! It’s a Friday night, so somebody’s gotta be doing something.”
Luckily, Kinsley was right. A couple cities over, a restaurant hosted a dinner-with-drag show starting at eight p.m. It helmed a few fairly popular queens in the greater NC area. Everybody dressed their best. Tabitha wore a checker-patterned red and white sundress, Kinsley a burgundy romper and knee-high leather boots, and Vince a cheerleader-esque hot pink skater skirt and pastel pink sweater. Piling into Kinsley’s massive SUV, the family went to Raleigh.
A decently sized parking lot encased a newer building with a dark pink exterior. Inside, dozens of circular tables littered the center. A stage took up the back half of the floor plan, boasting stage lighting and Marley floors. After the trio were seated by a host, Vince and Tabitha decided to drink, ordering matching margaritas along with the food. The robust menu consisted of Caribbean delights. Everyone ordered the same dish—ackee and saltfish—and patiently waited for it to be served. During this, Vince admired the diverse, happy patrons, a myriad of outfits, aesthetics, and ethnicities.
Shortly after plates were delivered to tables, the first act burst on stage. A drag king clad in homemade blood entrails, a black leotard, and fishnets hobbled onto center. He lip-synced to an obscure horror musical track, working the whole room as he collected cash. Vince and his family tipped too, big grins on their faces as he approached.
Five acts passed. A Filipino drag queen brought up the rear, ending the show with an impressive acapella performance. Seeing the versatility and variety among the performers emboldened Vince. Sure, some were doing cartwheels. But a couple simply strutted around, looking stunning while working their facial expressions. He could totally do that with some practice.
The finale ended with a death drop and raucous applause. After her bow, the queen walked the room to collect her tips. When she reached Vince’s table, she plucked one-dollar-bills from him and his mother’s hands. Kinsley flashed a fifty at her, the highest tip she’d given the whole night. The queen visibly flushed, eyes raking Kinsley up and down.
“Why thank you, sweetie,” she said, accepting it.
“No problem, darlin’.” Kinsley said, her flirtatious tone not lost to Vince. “You perform here often?”
“Every Wednesday night,” the Queen answered.
“Well, guess you got a new regular, huh?”
Seeing how effortlessly she hit on the queen, Vince wondered if Kinsley also fell somewhere on the rainbow. A lightning-fast trading of numbers pushed him closer to that conclusion. The queen revealed her real name—Wina—and told her she’d be in touch. When Vince took a smoke break outside with Kinsley, he brought it up.
“Look at you, flirtin’ and swapping numbers.”
Kinsley flushed. “Are you mad?”
“Hell no. I don’t give a shit what you do,” Vince told her. “I’m glad you gave her your number.”
Taking a puff from her cigarette, she looked at him. “What’d you think?”
“Of what?”
“The performances.”
“I loved it! I mean, holy shit, did you see the Queen that did a backflip? It was awesome.”
“So, you think you have the guts to try amateur night?”
Vince gulped. “I mean…maybe?”
“You should! Even if it’s only once, at least you can say you did it.”
***
The following Thursday night, Vince joined several amateur drag performers backstage at the same restaurant as before. He was one of five, all equally nervous looking. At first, as he rehearsed his piece in his head, he kept to himself. Soon, a couple others approached. A shy, taller queen accompanied a tiny king. She bent down a tad to meet Vince’s height.
“I love your look and outfit!” she exclaimed.
Vince blushed, glancing down at his babydoll dress and long-white socks paired with black heels. He’d bought a cheap ponytail extension, using his real hair as bangs. As the queen awaited his response, he hoped his baby-blue eyeshadow and eyeliner still looked okay. Tossing a nervous smile, he clasped his hands together.
“I like yours too,” he said, eyeing a moss-textured dress and giant alligator jaw hat. “You a gator?”
“Yes! I’m Gay Gale the Gator,” she said, doing a spin. “And this is my comrade, Skunk Punk.”
“Yo,” Skunk Punk said, chains jingling as he crossed his arms. He wore a red-plaid-patterned pantsuit.
“What’s your name, Queen?” Gale asked.
“Pinky Polly,” Vince told her shyly.
“Cuuute!” Gale cooed, twirling a hair on her finger. “This your first show?”
“Yeah. I’m real nervous,” he admitted.
Holding up her hands for a high five, she grinned while Vince accepted. “You got this!”
“Yeah!” Skunk Punk followed suit with a fistbump. “You’re gonna do great.”
Hyped up, Vince spent the time before his number jogging in place. He repeated affirmations in his head, reminding himself that Tabitha and Kinsley were in the audience. Even if he messed up, or made a fool of himself, he would feel alive–that’s all that mattered.
Now lined up behind the curtain, Vince watched Skunk Punk. The sludgy, chaotic music paired perfectly with his sharp, erratic dance style. As he did his bows and collected tips, Vince steeled himself. He told Skunk Punk good job on his way offstage, fiddling anxiously with the bow on his dress.
“And now, our last and final act! Everyone give it up for Pinky Polly!”
He froze at the sound of applause. Suddenly, he longed to escape, scrub off all his makeup and throw the dress in the trash. Todd’s voice burrowed into his mind, overtaking his thoughts like a parasite. In the distance, past the blinding lights, he could see Tabitha and Kinsley in the front row, waiting ecstatically. Stomach lurching, he turned to leave. Another ghost drowned out his father.
“Look at you,” Bug’s voice purred. “Pretty as a Princess.”
Popping his fear bubble, he skipped onstage. The beginning of a country song blared through the speakers. As the singer sang about troubling times and rainy skies, he lip-synced, making sure his frown reached his knees. His movements were equally dour. Everything flipped upside down as the beat kicked in, tone shifting to unfiltered optimism. He imbued each step and motion with pizazz, grin unwavering.
After a chorus break, he hopped off the stage and joined the crowd. Starting from the back of the room, he visited each table. Plucking bills while working his shoulders and ponytail, he found himself in front of Tabitha and Kinsley. He leaned forward as Kinsley stuffed a twenty into his dress. Tabitha slipped one into his hand, giggling as he met her gaze. To end the performance, he returned to center stage. The artist belting out one last high note, he mimicked it with expert precision, striking a pose.
He scurried off before he could see or hear the audience’s reaction. Skunk Punk and Gale the Gator high-fived him once more.
A bit overwhelmed, Vince didn’t stick around for the afterparty. He went home with his family instead. The whole drive home, he pondered on how to finish the night. He wanted to do something relaxing and familiar to taper off the leftover adrenaline.
Following a much needed bath and shower, Vince ended up scouring a storage container. He fished out a DVD, staring at the cover. Thinking of the last time he watched it left a frown on his face. He took it with him to the living room, where he put it on his TV. Sitting criss-cross in the middle of the floor, he deeply sighed.
As old trailers played, he allowed himself to be prideful. He was proud and happy to try something new. And though the nostalgia would be bitter, he’d watch a movie dear to him, and admire the lovely ghost who continued to inspire him.
April 24th, 2009
“Happy birthday!”
Vince stood in front of Bug’s doorway, holding out a gift bag. Their typical sunny demeanor shattered as they begrudgingly accepted the present.
“Why are you here?” they questioned.
A chill crept down Vince’s spine. He tried not to show that their tone shook him. “I wanted to surprise you. Esha told me today’s your birthday.”
Grumbling, they went inside with Vince in tow. They didn’t say much as they went into their room. Secrets of Etrariaplayed like always, except today, Bug sat in near darkness. Clinging to a well-loved golden retriever plush they never slept without, they stared vacantly at the television.
“Do you wanna open your gift?” Vince asked, joining them on the bed.
“No. I don’t.” They deadpanned.
He half-expected an apology from them; they were hardly ever crass. But Vince could see the agony in their face. There would be no apology, nor did they owe him one. He tried to be lighthearted. “Can I tell you what it is?”
“Sure.”
“My mom found a copy of Harvest Season at the mall. I told her it was the first movie we watched together.”
Briefly, fire returned to Bug’s eyes as they looked at him. Their normal sunny grin danced on their lips as they tore into the gift. Inspecting the case, they brushed their hand across it. “It’s got a different cover than yours.”
“I think it’s a special edition.”
“Let’s watch it!” they exclaimed, diving off the bed to change discs.
Throughout the movie, Vince rested on Bug’s stomach while they played with his hair. The first time he watched it with them, he hardly paid attention to the antics on-screen. He did the same now as he studied their pensive facial expression. Nothing changed until the end, where the main characters shared a kiss. Bug rose and pulled Vince into one, moving away the same time the protagonists did. Vince stared, running a thumb across their cheek.
“Are you feeling better?”
Bug groaned, gently smacking his hand away. “Holy shit, I’m fine! Please stop asking questions, it’s stressing me out.” They wiggled away from him. “I hate my birthday, okay? I usually stay alone.”
“Oh. Okay…” Vince berated himself internally, but didn’t let it spill over. “I can go home.”
“No, it’s okay. I want you here. I just…I can’t control how bad I feel. It’s too much. I can’t pretend I’m fine or whatever. I don’t have the energy to.”
Vince opened his arms, communicating with a warm, loving gaze in their direction. Understanding, Bug let him sweep them up. He rubbed their lower back as they sniffled.
“I’m here for you,” he told them. “Just like you’re always here for me. Tell me how to help.”
“I want to exist with you. That’s it. No questions, no bullshit.”
For the next hour, cartoons played softly as Vince held Bug. Half a season worth of episodes passed, and they started pacing in circles. Vince didn’t stop them at first. Not until they tumbled over their own feet and fell face-first. He scrambled to their side, rolling them over.
“I’m okay!” they said breathlessly. “Got a bit dizzy. But being dizzy helps. I can’t think about how scared I am if I’m dizzy.”
Pausing to make sure he didn’t ask a question, he gently touched their shoulders. “You can talk to me about why you’re scared, if you want.”
“I feel like something bad is going to happen. Esha won’t come home from work. I’m gonna blink and you’ll be gone. Or someone bad will show up,” they trailed off, glancing at him. “I don’t know. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. It makes sense. I feel that way a lot too, so I understand.”
As Bug anxiously rubbed their arms, Vince got the impression there was more to this. That they were withholding something they considered unspeakable. Though curiosity ebbed at him, he didn’t bring it up. He simply observed as they sat up, looking at him intensely.
“Distract me.”
“How?”
Bug drowned Vince in kisses, taking his breath away. The lack of oxygen didn’t bother him one bit. He relished the softness of their lips, the digits grazing his waist. Minutes passed until they abruptly pulled away, taking hold of his head. Fear swirled in their dark-brown pupils.
“Promise me you won’t leave me,” they requested.
“What?”
They ran a thumb across his cheek, tears spilling down their own. “Stay in my life. Don’t leave me, please. I don’t want anyone to leave again. It hurts too much.”
Imagining a world without Bug saddened Vince. He would never willingly go, not without a fight.
So he said, “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
July 2015
Slumped over a toilet in a courthouse bathroom, Vince shuddered.
Minutes prior, a judge ruled in Tabitha’s favor, allowing her to divorce Todd and enact a restraining order. Months of fighting tooth and nail finally paid off. Inconsolable, Todd had to be escorted out by officers as he screamed at his ex-wife and child. As soon as Vince could run to vomit up his anxiety, he did.
His final testimony recounting the day Todd sent him away to conversion therapy proved depleting. Delivering it as a play-by-play destroyed him. It’d been an uphill battle to piece the events together from his fragmented psyche; it was another to speak it all to a largely random group of people. To avoid Todd’s nasty glare as he cried, describing the beating, then the ride to Idaho with two strange men he never met. He managed, albeit barely, to keep it together and speak the details.
And it worked; he and Tabitha were finally free.
Mom and son sobbed on the ride home, joining hands as Vince’s free one managed the steering wheel. At first, both stifled the sniffles and weeps. Reality sinking in, the wails only grew louder and visceral. The catharsis of sharing decades of pent-up emotions was, by far, the highlight of the ordeal.
Arriving home, Vince wiped her tears with his sleeve before handing her the keys. “You haven’t driven since you got your license last month. Why don’t you go do somethin’ nice for yourself to celebrate gettin’ away from Todd?”
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely,” he fished out his wallet, plucking some leftover tips from amateur night. “Here’s about forty. Go knock yourself out.”
One hug later and Vince headed in. Kinsley awaited in the kitchen, making a glass of water. Before he could go to his room, she stopped him.
“Hey,” she said. “I know it’s been a rough day, but can we talk?”
He scooted behind her, grabbing a mug. “Yeah. Everything alright?”
“More than alright. You remember Wina?”
“Sure do.”
“We’ve been talking. A lot. And…I’m realizing some things. I want to be her queerplatonic parnter, and…I want a divorce.”
Unfazed, Vince poured chocolate syrup and milk, mixing it. “Alright. Sounds good.”
Kinsley crossed her arms. “You’re not mad?”
“No.” He put the mug in the microwave. “I mean, it’s more obvious than ever that we’re both fruits. I don’t blame you for wanting to break away and explore.”
Running up, she squeezed him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her as she smiled.
“Thank you, Vince.” She moved, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. “I hope you know I don’t regret this arrangement one bit.”
“The feeling’s mutual. We got away, were able to help my mama. That’s all I ever wanted, really.” He leaned against the counter. “We’ll figure out what we gotta do tomorrow. I need to recharge for the rest of the night, if that’s alright.”
“‘Course it is. I’ll be in the room if you need me.”
Soon after, Tabitha returned home with a bottle of whiskey and a fresh haircut. Her long, winding locks were gone, now ending just below her ears. She brandished the alcohol, wiggling her eyebrows before setting it down.
“Wanna drink with me?” she asked.
Sitting outside together, Tabitha poured shots for her and Vince. She knocked hers back with no hesitation while Vince took meager sips. He couldn’t help but smile at her relaxed shoulders and carefree aura. For the first time in her life, she could look forward to the future. He pictured a place of her own, where he would stay by her side until the end.
“Once me and Kinsley get divorced, how about me and you find our own place?” he suggested. “I’ve been talking to a nice person named Marcy who lives in Virginia. Maybe we can go there.”
“You and Kinsley are getting divorced?” she signed.
“Yeah. She’s been talking to Wina and wants to be with her. Fine by me. I’ve been doing a lot of thinkin’ myself. I think I’m comfy calling myself bisexual.”
Tabitha grinned knowingly. “I’m happy for both of you.”
“You’re smilin’ like you’ve known my whole life.”
“Not your whole life. But when you and Bug started hanging out, I had a feeling.”
Vince poorly disguised his shock with a swig. “You remember Bug?” he said after.
“Of course I do. They were the sweetest thing. And I could tell you two had something special going on from the start. I never said anything because I wanted you to be safe.”
Gut twisting, Vince hung his head. During the hearing, his promise to Bug replayed. Though he knew it wasn’t his fault, he regretted breaking it. Did his meaningless words haunt them, keep them up at night? Or, like him, did they forget the relationship entirely? Sucking a sharp breath through his nose, he rationalized–it didn’t matter anymore.
“You and Bug were always lookin’ out for me. I couldn’t be bothered to notice or listen, of course. He teared up. “It’s my own damn fault Todd shipped me off. I was too careless.”
“Vince, that was not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Thank you.”
He gazed up at the stars, catching a shooting one. Without thinking, he made a wish: I wish to see Bug one last time. Even if I never see them again after that. Opening his eyes, he caught his mom beaming at him.
“All that’s behind us now,” she signed. “It’s time for us to live.”
***
“Ride that bull, cowboy!”
Vince nervously smiled. Sitting on a mechanical bull ride, he looked down at his best friend Marcy with uncertainty.
“You better not laugh if I break somethin’!” he yelled from above.
They shouted something in response, Vince not hearing it as the machine geared up. Two shots in at a random Richmond bar, he didn’t anticipate doing a silly thing like this. But seeing Marcy conquer the ride moments before emboldened him. So here he was, ready to get thrashed around.
To his surprise, weathering the movement proved easier than expected. He wound up with a massive smirk on his face, one hand on his cowgirl hat as the bull spun. The crowd around him erupted, and he bashfully tried to disregard it. After four rotations, his stomach lurched. Right before it was too late, the motion stopped, Vince practically falling off when it did. He slipped off the machine, stumbling into Marcy’s grasp.
Recouping at the bar, Marcy gave him a high five. “Fuck yeah! I knew you could do it.”
Vince smiled, ordering a water before responding. “Thanks. You think anybody cute saw me?”
“Probably. There was a lot of eyes on you.”
While the trip mainly served as a way for Vince and Marcy to meet, they knew he was itching to find a date. He’d been open about his lack of sexual experiences with others, and his desire to try something new, especially now being divorced. Marcy gave him money for new toys, taught him how to clean up and out, and even did his makeup for the occasion. They were convinced he would luck out and find someone hot to bring to his hotel.
Vince did agree sex would be nice, especially after so many years of taking care of himself. The idea of fucking a stranger intrigued him, but only to a degree. He didn’t tell Marcy, but who he truly wanted would not be in Richmond. He’d never been lucky before, so what would change now?
“Really?” he asked, shaking off the yearning. “I thought I looked like a floppin’ fish.”
“No! You were awesome out there!”
Before a reply could leave his lips, a percussive, deep voice resonated from behind him. “Excuse me?”
Marcy’s eyes widened. When Vince turned around, time slowed to a stop, elation filling every fiber of his being. He looked up at the person in complete shock.
Maybe wishes did come true.