Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love (30 page)

BOOK: Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love
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“About a year ago,” he began, slowly, “I told my parents that I was gay, and they, in turn, threw me out of the house. (My parents blanched.) I lived on the streets for a year, and they refused to even talk to me on the phone. Now William takes good care of me.”

No one said a word. The three of us sat there and waited for a reaction from my parents, while my parents waited for, well, I have no idea what they were waiting for, but they were noticeably upset by what Peter had just said. My mother was the first to say something, however.

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” she said and started to cry. My father walked over and put his arms around her. She continued, but she was obviously very upset. “I… I just can’t believe any parent could do such a horrible thing. I’m just so, so sorry.”

She stopped, and my father added, “William, I apologize for my comment just now. It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing for Peter here.”

“No problem, Mister Miller; I’m only too glad to help out,” Sparkle assured him. Still, the whole group of us looked tense, and all for completely different reasons. Mine was that the whole gay thing was now on the table and I thought that in seconds I would be coming out to my parents.

But, before I could say anything, my mother wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “Peter, I can’t begin to imagine why your parents did what they did, and I certainly haven’t a clue as to how you managed to survive, at your age, without a home, but I truly believe that all things happen for a reason. It was a very brave thing telling your parents what you told them.  You did the right thing. Unfortunately, your parents didn’t, but it looks like you have people who care for you now, which is all that matters. If you need anything, anything at all, you can count on Mister Miller and me to help you out. And Bruce, I can’t tell you how proud I am of you right now for being a part of Peter’s life. It makes me feel, and I’m sure your father as well, that we did something right to have such a caring and responsible son such as yourself.”

That was it. That should’ve been my moment. I had the opening. It was the perfect time to tell them, but hearing them call Peter brave for telling his parents that he was gay when he was only fifteen and then hearing them tell me how proud they were of me, well, I just felt like the worst little shit in the world. Peter was the brave one, but I was nothing but a coward and a liar. And so, as much as I wanted to tell them the truth, I just couldn’t. It would look like I waited all those years to tell them because I didn’t trust their love for me. And so, feeling quite awful and foolish, I merely sat there in silence.

My father went back to his seat and we all finished our meals, but the rest of the evening was strained. We all passed on dessert, agreeing that it had been a long day for everyone. Before we retired to bed, however, my mother tried to perk us all up by saying that she was going to take us all out shopping the next day and then out to a big dinner at my aunt and uncle’s home. The shopping sounded reasonable, but I knew that a day at my aunt and uncle’s meant no time to do what I’d come there to do. Plus, I knew that Sparkle and Peter would be bored to tears. My mother looked at me with such joy at the thought, though, that I knew that I had to put on a happy face and tell her that it sounded like a great idea. Both my parents perked up when I said it, and I was, at least, happy for that. Of course, Sparkle, I could tell, was ruing this trip more and more with each passing moment.

And so, with one night down and a full day of family fun ahead, we went off to bed. I kissed my mom and dad goodnight and assured them that I couldn’t wait to see the rest of the family the next day. I could tell that both of them were thrilled to hear me say that. Family, you see, meant the world to them, and now, in their eyes, our family had increased by two.

Truly, I loved my parents so much at that moment, and my heart was breaking knowing that I was deceiving them. So, tomorrow, tomorrow definitely, I promised myself, and went off to my old bedroom.

Peter went to the guest bedroom after we hugged him goodnight, and my parents had fixed up a spare cot in my room for Sparkle, who was waiting for me when I got there with an impish grin on his face. I’d seen that look many times before and, uh oh, I knew he was cooking something up.

“Before you even begin, let me just say this: NO!” (Just be quiet up there; even I knew I was going to do whatever he had in mind for me, but I at least had to put up the obligatory objection first.)

“No what?” he asked, all innocently-like.

“No to whatever mischief you’re about to foist on me. Need I remind you that a.) we are in my parent’s home in the middle of Kansas and b.) whatever it is you’re about to get me into is probably illegal in this state, c.) it will certainly get us into trouble and d.) we have to set a good example for Peter.” (Hey, I almost convinced myself.) Then Sparkle whipped out a book that I immediately recognized as the latest Damron Guide. (If you’re out of the loop, that’s the book that tells you where everything queer is in the known universe, Kansas included.)

“Oh no, no fucking way. There can’t possibly be somewhere around
here
in
there
.” I felt pretty sure about that, but Sparkle already had the page bookmarked and was waving it in front of my face to prove me wrong.

“Look here,” he beamed, “right here on page two hundred. There’s a gay bar not twenty-five miles from here. We have the rental car and can sneak out without anybody being the wiser. Besides, I know you can really use a drink right about now and I noticed that your parents have no liquor in the house.” Damn him. That’s why he was carefully scoping out the place. He wasn’t looking for dirt on me; he was looking for a way to get me to go to a bar.

“Sparkle, you’re amazing. You totally planned this before we even got on the plane, didn’t you?”

“Secret, how long have you known me?”

“Oh, forget it; I’ve played that game before. Fine, I do need a drink and I know you’re going to convince me to go anyway, so let’s save us both the time and let’s just get going.” He had me. He always did. But, to tell you the truth, the thought of going to a gay bar in Kansas had been a dream of mine my whole life. This, I figured, might’ve been my only chance, and I, for one, wasn’t about to pass it up.

“That’s the spirit,” he said and slapped me on the back. “Let’s wait until everyone is asleep first and then tiptoe out of here. I promise, one drink and we’ll be back before anyone suspects anything.”

“Sparkle, my love, in all the years I’ve known you, there has never been just
one
drink, but I’m willing to go, just the same. So sit there and shut up and we’ll go in a half an hour.”

“Deal!”

He won, as usual. Like, duh.

 

***

 

As it is with many small towns, Sonny’s was located in a nondescript strip mall and showed no outward signs that it was a gay bar. It was small and cramped, but it was, at least, full, what with it being a Friday night and all. Sparkle and I bee-lined it to the bar and ordered us some gin and tonics. Doubles. Strong with a capital S. In all honesty, much as I hated to admit it, I was glad we were there, because I felt like I was coming full circle at long last.

So, with drinks in hand, Sparkle and I scoped out the scenery. Strangely, it could’ve easily been any bar in San Francisco. The same music was blaring, the same videos were playing, and the crowd was neither overly attractive nor overly tragic. Gay America, I was finding out, was pretty much the same all over. And, just like back home, it only took something like three minutes for the flies to start swarming around Sparkle. I’d learned what to do in those situations a long time ago and walked to the other side of the bar to mark my own measly territory.

Minutes later, the music faded out and was replaced by a Broadway overture that I didn’t quite recognize. Still, I’d been to enough bars in my lifetime to know that a drag show was about to begin. Sure enough, seconds later, a glamorous drag queen appeared on a tiny stage that I hadn’t noticed until that moment. She was tall and lean, and the glittery dress couldn’t hide the fact that she’d regularly been using her gym membership. And, as soon as she started her shtick, I had this funny feeling that I’d met her somewhere before.

Her name was Gloria Hole, and you could tell by the crowd’s reaction that she was a town favorite. All eyes were facing the stage and the cheers started as soon as she opened her overly-lipsticked mouth.

“My, my, my,” she started, “what an attractive crowd we have out there tonight. Wait,” she said, and pulled out a thick pair of glasses before putting them on. “Oh… sorry, my mistake.” Then she ripped the glasses off and threw them off stage. “Well, that’s better,” she continued. “Now, if someone would be so kind as to pass me a drink, I think I might be able to make it through this evening.” A large glass of something alcoholic was passed through the crowd and landed in my hand.  Naturally, I took a gulp before handing it to Gloria.

“Hey, handsome, no sharesies. Remember, no booze, no Gloria; so get your own.” She looked down when she said it and stared right into my eyes. Then she paused for a second to see if she knew me. Strangely, I sensed some recognition.

“Sorry,” I shouted back at her, “but I can see you without the glasses and
I
needed something.”

A mixture of boos and shouts went up, and Gloria put her hands on her cushioned hips and said, “Sugar, come here.” I inched up a little. “Closer,” she commanded. Again I moved a couple of inches. “Sweetie, I won’t bite,” she cooed. 

I yelled up at her, “It’s okay, I’ve had my shots.”

Ooh, now I was in it up to my ears. “Darlin’, come here to your Auntie Gloria and I’ll get you a drink of your very own.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me twice,” I announced and bounded onto the stage.

“Well, well. You’re either an alcoholic or a drag queen, Sweetie,” she surmised.

“What’s the difference?” I deadpanned.

“Oh, Honey, you’re a drag queen alright. The bitter scale goes from one to ten, and you’re definitely an eleven.” I was glad for the distinction.

“Gloria, I’ve got eleven for you right here,” I said to her and grabbed my crotch.
Now
the crowd was on my side.

“Bartender,” she breathlessly spoke into the microphone, “get this man a drink and a big bottle of lube for yours truly. I think I might’ve found Mister Right This Second.” Several of the men in the audience were vying for my attention at that point as well. Even Sparkle stopped what he was doing to catch my act.

“What’s your name, Honey?” she asked, once I got my drink.

“On stage, it’s Tobago. In bed, you can call me
Sir
.”

“Oh, yes, Sir. So, Tobago, where’s Trinidad?” she asked. I pointed to the area where Sparkle was standing. I could tell, by the look on his face, that he was none too thrilled that he’d been drag queen outed, but he was the one who hauled my ass down there and that’s the price he paid. Tough fake-titties. Besides, it didn’t look like any of his suitors were backing off, and I, for one, was having a blast.

“Well, it seems like you’re here with your own troupe, Sweetie. Care to perform a number?” she asked, and I was seriously tempted, until Sparkle shouted out, “We’re on sabbatical.”

“Too bad,” Gloria pouted, “we could use a couple of good drag queens up on this stage.”

“Honey, I’d settle for
one
good drag queen,” I quipped.

“Now, now, no hitting below the belt, which, by the way, is going to come down over your pretty, little ass if you don’t behave,” she threatened.

“Promises, promises,” I dared back.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced into the microphone, “there’s going to be a ten minute intermission while I go and teach this randy bitch a thing or two about Midwestern manners.” Then, before I knew what hit me, and much to the crowd’s delight, she grabbed my hand and pulled me off stage into a small office. Then she sat down and pointed to a seat next to her and motioned for me to sit down, too.

“Gloria, I was only kidding out there. I’m sorry if I upset you,” I offered, suddenly a little worried.

“Sugar, you were great. That’s not why I dragged you back here,” she said and took off her wig.

“Um, why then?” She had my curiosity aroused and, as she continued to de-drag, she was having the same affect on certain other parts of me.

“Bruce, it’s me Sonny,” she, now closer to he, said. Again, he looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

“Sonny? Sonny, hmm, let me see… no… no bells. Give me another clue.” It was killing me that he knew who I was and I still hadn’t recognized him. Then he unzipped his dress and shimmied out of it. Standing there in his panties, it was his chest that was the final tip off. “Holy shit,” I shouted and jumped up. “Sonny Leary! I’d recognize those pecs anywhere. You used to drive me crazy in the boy’s locker room. What the fuck are you doing here? Better yet, since when are you gay and a drag queen? Last time I saw you, you were practically engaged to Samantha Peskow. (Sonny, you see, was my boyhood crush. He was captain of every team and had the girls swarming all over him. Samantha kept them all at bay.)

“Funny story, that one,” he said and sat back down. “See this dress?” He pointed to the beautiful beaded number now hanging on the door. “It’s Samantha’s. Least it was. She’s a big, old bull dyke now and couldn’t begin to fit into it anymore. Lucky for me, I got all her hand-me-downs.”

“Did you both know about each other in high school?” I asked, now in near shock.

“Oh yeah. We were each other’s beards. We’ve been friends since we were three or four and we never kept anything from each other. When I was twelve, I told her that I thought that I liked boys. In return, she told me that she thought that she liked girls. Right then and there, we came up with the arrangement. Even at that age, we knew we’d need each other somewhere down the line. And, hey, it worked out great, except for the fact that neither one of us ever got the chance to be with someone of our own gender. And, boy, did that ever suck.”

“Jeez, I know just how you felt,” I sympathized. “Damn, I had the biggest, fucking crush on you back then.”

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