Anything Could Happen (30 page)

“Sure.” Guy picked it up and carried it into the other room and placed it on the dining room table.

We had Thanksgiving dinner right here
, thought Austin, and remembered the goose—too greasy but good—and mashed potatoes and green bean casserole with green and yellow beans and Uncle Bodie’s magic stuffing.

Peter opened the lid and pulled out the photograph. It was on top. “This one?” he asked.

“Yes,” Austin said in relief and took it—looked
into
it.

He recognized his uncle, although twenty years had left a mark. And the other man? He remembered the picture of two boys his uncle had shown him that first night—
I was so surprised to find out my uncle was gay and how funny Lucille had been and the sherry had been so damned sweet and then Uncle Bodie went and got that picture
—and he tried to imagine that young man and this older man as the same person.

“Just look at them,” Guy said, putting an arm around Austin.

That’s Jimmy on the right
, Uncle Bodie had said that night that seemed so long ago.
Hot, wasn’t he?

“My God,” said Austin. “I can’t believe it. They were together all that time? And he never told me?”

Peter nodded. “I’m surprised he never mentioned him at all—but like I said, he didn’t like to talk about Jimmy.”

“And they were in love?” Austin asked.

“
Very
much in love,” Peter replied. “We met in Europe many years ago, and I was thrilled to see you could be gay and have a relationship. They were an inspiration for me.”

A sudden memory hit Austin—so hard it made him gasp.

“Austin?” asked Guy.

I am thankful I had Jimmy—the love of my life.
Isn’t that what his uncle had said on Thanksgiving? And he had felt this hurt, because he had thought the love of his uncle’s life had been nothing more than a boyhood crush and that he’d been alone all his life.

Tears welled up. Good ones.

Because somehow, everything was a little better now.

Uncle Bodie hadn’t been alone after all.

“It was Lucille’s passing,” Peter said. “You see, Jimmy gave Lucille to Bodie for his birthday. His sixty-second, I guess? Bodie near died when Jimmy passed, and it was Lucille gave him reason to go on. He had to take care of Jimmy’s precious gift. Jimmy lived on through Lucille.”

Austin nodded. “I understand now,” he said, and took his lover’s hand.

“Bodie had a rich and long life. He was ready. If there is a heaven, I am sure he is young again, and so are Jimmy and Lucille.”

“No heaven will not ever Heaven be,” Austin said. “Unless my dog is there to welcome me.”

“Exactly,” Peter replied.

Austin settled back against Guy, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “You know, you helped too,” he told the older man. “Uncle Bodie said you saved his life.”

Peter gave a slight shrug. “I gave him some purpose, I suppose,” he replied. “Gave him something to do, taking care of the people in this building. But they took care of him too. That’s what makes this world work you know, my boy. Caring for others. It is what gives us hope. And love.” He grew quiet. “Faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

And then Austin heard his uncle’s voice again.

“You’ve forgiven him, of course. Right?”
Uncle Bodie had asked him concerning his anger for Guy over the scene in the play.

“And asked for forgiveness?”

“Not exactly. But yes.”

“Then you must do it
exactly
. Guy just might be the love of your life. Waste not one thing you should have done. Never ever have any should-have-dones.”

He had told his uncle that he would.

“Promise me?”

“I promise,” Austin said aloud.

“Promise what?” Guy asked.

Austin stood, his hand still in his lover’s, and then he took him out onto the porch his uncle loved so much. He thanked Guy for his love. And he asked for forgiveness. Because he knew that Guy just might be the love of his life. And he didn’t want to waste one thing he should have done or ever have a single should-have-done.

Guy forgave him. Of course.

I
T
WAS
the morning of the reading of Guy’s play at In-Progress Night at the Pegasus, and Austin was making a coffee run. They’d run out the day before, and not wanting to resort to anything less than perfect, he was on his way to The Shepherd’s Bean, was getting ready to cross the street, in fact, when he thought he saw Todd.

Impossible
, he thought.
That couldn’t have been him
.

He waited impatiently for the light, would have gone against it, but it was morning rush hour and Main St. was frightfully busy. The light finally changed, and he dashed across, watching the shop the whole time—searching for the young man who
looked
like Todd Burton. Dark-haired, cream-skinned, broad-shouldered Todd. That description fit a million men, right?

Two people came out, but no, they weren’t Todd and didn’t even look like him. He opened the door, peered in, waited a few seconds for his eyes to adjust from the brightness of the morning, and…

There he was. Todd. Standing at the counter and talking to a huge, muscular man at his side, pointing at the chalkboard menu on the wall behind the register. For a moment, Austin was speechless. Words wanted to form. He wanted to call out, but he was just too surprised.

That’s when Todd turned, and God, of course it was him. Todd’s eyes went wide, and then a huge grin spread across his face. “Austin? Oh my God! Austin!”

Todd ran to him and threw his arms around him, and tears sprang to Austin’s eyes. Happy tears. He hugged Todd back, amazed and stunned.

Todd pulled back. “I can’t believe it! When did you get here?”

Austin shook his head, hardly able to believe it himself. “Months ago.
Months
ago.”

“What made you come to Kansas City?”

Austin laughed. “
You
did, Todd. I came looking for you.” And damn, Todd looked good. Healthy. Whole. Not as good as Guy, maybe, but—

“Me?” Todd gaped at him.

“I thought I was in love with you, Todd. So I came looking for you and—”

“Ah-hum,” said the massive, muscular man who was stepping up behind Todd, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Who’s this, Todd?”

Todd looked up at the man. “This is Austin. From Buckman.
Austin
.”

The big man thought a moment, and then his eyebrows shot up. “
Oh.
Austin. He’s like your childhood buddy….”

Todd turned back. “He was my best friend. God, Austin.” He moaned and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you. I should have.”

Austin shook his head. “No. It was my fault. I really crapped up bad and—”

Todd held up a hand. “No. There were a lot of mistakes made.”

“My name is Gabe,” said the big man.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” Todd laughed. “Austin, this is Gabe Richards.”

The big man reached out a hand, and when Austin took it, his own seemed to vanish. There was strength in that hand too. Was that… possession? He looked up in the strikingly handsome man’s face and thought:
Oh my God… is he?

Todd cleared his throat. “Austin… Gabe is my—”

“Lover,” Austin finished.

Todd nodded once, and Austin saw worry on his face.
Of course. You just told him you thought you were in love with him
.

Austin smiled. “That’s great.” Then suddenly, he wanted to shout, he was so happy. The tears welled up. It was too good to be true. He leapt forward and hugged Todd again.
You’re gay. Hurray! And you have a lover and….
“Me too. Lover.” He burst into laughter. “I have a lover. A guy.” He laughed again. “His
name
is Guy.”

“Really?” Todd laughed. “Oh, that’s great. When did this all happen?”

Gabe had gone back to the counter and was returning with two coffees with lids. “Baby, I know you two want to talk, but we’re going to be late.”

Todd’s shoulders slumped. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Austin. I got to get to work. My boss is amazing, but she’s a task master.”

“Are you cooking?” Austin asked, hoping.

“Oh yes. And Austin! At Izar’s Jatetxea! My dream came true—”

“What?” Austin asked, incredulous. “But I went there. This waiter told me she threw you out for—”

“For having the audacity to walk in off the streets and ask her to be my teacher.” He rolled his eyes again. “That’s Goya. She thought I had a lot of nerve. But in the end she hired me, believe it or not. And under that harridan’s exterior, she’s a little bunny.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Gabe said.

“Look, I gotta go,” said Todd. “We
have
to catch up, fill each other in. I just can’t believe it! I’d call in sick, but you don’t do that to Izar Goya! How about tonight?”

Austin shook his head. “I can’t. I’m doing a reading on stage at the Pegasus tonight.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Todd shouted. “Oh my God! The Pegasus. Gabe, that’s the place that Peter got a stage named after him and—”

“Peter Wagner?” Austin asked.

Todd stopped. “You know him?”

“I sure do. I don’t know what I would do without him. My uncle just—” He paused for a beat and went on. “—died, and he handled everything and—”

“Wait,” said Todd. “His friend Boden? Was your uncle?”

Austin shook his head again. Jeez. It seemed impossible. This was all too much. “Yes,” he said.

“God, Austin. I am so sorry.” He looked up at Gabe. “Izar would kill me if I don’t show up, wouldn’t she?”

“No,” Austin cried. “You go. But for God’s sake, take my number. Please. We have to talk. And I want you to meet Guy. It’s his play we’re reading tonight. Me. Can you believe it? At In-Progress Night. They let the public get a glimpse of plays in development. Local playwrights, even national. Guy got a slot and it’s tonight. Sometimes the piece even goes on to get produced. This could be his big chance….”

“And you’re reading one of the parts?” Todd asked, the joy apparent on his face.

Austin nodded.

“This is fucking amazing. Me working with Izar Goya and you acting.” He turned to Gabe. “He was always starring in all the high school plays. He is incredible—”

Austin blushed. “Todd….”

“No. You were. And he can sing too, Gabe. You should have heard him in
Big River
. He was awesome.”

“Thanks, Todd. This is just a reading, though. Sitting around in chairs.”

“But it’s a beginning.” Todd smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, and felt that joy bubbling up again. “It is.”

“Okay, then. Give me your number.”

Austin did, and Todd put it in his cell phone and gave Austin his. “We need to talk. Maybe we’ll come to the reading tonight.”

Austin thought about the infamous scene that had at first got him so angry with Guy. The scene that was as much about Todd as it was him. “Why don’t you wait? I’d rather you wait until it’s a real play and—”

“Nonsense,” Todd said. “I want to be able to say I saw it every step of the way.”

Austin shrugged. “Well, I need to warn you. You just might see some of you in it.”

“Oh, really?” asked Gabe. “Now we
have
to come.”

Austin gave another shrug. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Todd nodded. Paused. And then jumped forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. It was a shock, and he froze for a moment and waved as Todd and his lover left the coffee shop.

So he finally kissed me. I waited all this time, and he finally kissed me.
He thought of Guy. He thought of Guy’s kisses. And knew he liked them better.

T
HE
audience burst into applause, and Austin, stomach still in knots, felt a huge wave of relief. But as he looked out over the crowd, he knew it was all right. They had done it. They had presented Guy’s play, and the people had loved it.

As the clapping began to die down, Jennifer Leavitt walked out on the stage and the applause started up again. “No. No, wait,” she cried out. She laughed, turned, and looked at her cast sitting in a semicircle of chairs on the stage. She locked eyes with Austin and winked, gave him a big grin. She looked back out at the faces of the people sitting in their seats. “I want you to meet the playwright. That’s who you need to praise. Guy?”

Guy stepped out from the wings, and the crowd was on its feet.

“I give you Guy Campbell, author of
Anything Could Happen
.”

Guy walked up to Jennifer, but not before stopping at Austin’s side and bending and kissing him.

Austin gasped, looked out at the crowd in shock.
He did that in front of everyone.

When Jennifer handed him the microphone, he thanked the audience, then thanked them again. Then: “But I couldn’t have done this without my lover and companion, Austin Shelbourne.” He turned to Austin. “Baby?” he said, and held out his hand.

Trying not to cry for about the billionth time in the last few months, Austin shyly stood and walked to Guy and took his hand.

“I love you, baby,” Guy said into his ear, and kissed his cheek.

The audience continued to clap, and for just a moment he saw his uncle, right there in the front row, clapping and cheering his nephew on.

And suddenly, Austin knew it was true. It was happening. It had happened. This was only the beginning. He would be standing on this stage and others. He would be standing in front of crowds and bowing and there would be applause and he was on his way. Who knew. Maybe Broadway? Why not?

He looked at Guy. With his lover at his side.

His Jimmy.

Why not?

Anything could happen.

S
EVERAL
years ago, while I was attending a retreat for mostly gay men, a wonderful writer I know came to us with a play he was writing called
Tearoom Tango
. He wanted to “beta test” it by hearing the parts (which had only been in his head) read aloud by different people. It’s a story about sex in public restrooms, but it is not porn. Oh, no! Believe me! At that point it was basically six long monologues—very rich and powerful. I was fortunate to be able to read the part of The Kid. We were all deeply moved, many of us to tears.