Page 4 of Reaching Roland

“So I was wondering…”

With the spray bottle in one hand and the lollipop firmly clenched in one side of his mouth, he arched a brow. “Yes?”

“You’ve peppered me with so many questions about my life lately, but you haven’t told me anything real about yours.”

Since our conversation about my late wife several weeks ago, he’d been relentless. He knew how much I loved spending time with my son, Cameron, and his partner—my chosen son—Indie. He knew we had family dinner on Sundays, that Indie and his various friends stopped by my house at least once a week to hang out, that I routinely helped out Miss Georgina—Indie’s chosen grandma, and her neighbors in the senior living—and we’d talked about how boring my job had become.

He wrinkled his nose. “I babble away at you all the time. Especially while I shave you.”

“Not really. You tease me and talk about inconsequential things, but all I really know about you is that you love your job, you’re always sucking on one piece of candy or another, and your footwear is questionable for spending so much time on your feet.” I pointed down at the white platform boots he wore today that laced up to his knees and matched the gauzy white shirt that he wore unbuttoned halfway down his slim chest.

“How do you know I didn’t just wear these today for you?” He pouted out his lower lip. “You’re so tall, Daddy.”

Finding it impossible not to, I smiled at his silliness. He held up the spray bottle, so I settled back in the chair. Ever since I’d told him why I chose not to have my hair washed, he’d respected my wishes and never brought it up again. I appreciated that about him. “Okay, if you won’t share, I’ll ask questions.”

He snorted. “Go for it. I have nothing to hide, but be warned, I’m not terribly exciting.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Are you from Takoda?”

Smirking, he said, “No, actually, I'm from Little Beach Bay.”

“No kidding. You’re from down the shore?”

“Born and raised in the LBB.”

“That must’ve been an incredible childhood.”

As a teenager, my wife and our friends had driven down to the shore for many a beach day. The girls soaked up the sun rays while we boys strutted around like we were hot stuff. They’d been good times, fun and memorable. We hadn’t had enough appreciation for living so close to the ocean, but we’d been arrogant about it.

Once our son had come along, those days had become more about him and less about us. Cameron had always loved those beach trips. Rhonda and I had happily slogged through the sand with coolers packed with his favorite foods, a beach bag including an umbrella, a baby beach tent, and toys when he was younger, and a boogie board as he got older, squashed like sardines amidst all the others who wanted to bake in the sun and splash in the water for the day. I treasured those memories, but it had been a long time since I’d traveled down to the shore. The thought of doing it without Rhonda by my side was hard enough, and Cameron had his own life now. The endless driving around for parking to spend a day alone, surrounded by others with their partners, family, and/or friends, was less than appealing.

A cloud passed over Kenny's face, jerking my wandering thoughts from myself to pay closer attention to him. “It was about what you would expect, I guess.”

“Kenny, what’s that mean? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Daddy, don’t worry about me.” He winked at me in the mirror and adjusted his lollipop to the other side of his mouth.

Ha. If the little shit thought I was that easily distracted by his teasing, he had another thing coming. “Then tell me what that expression was about.”

The sigh he let out sounded like it came from the depth of his soul, and concern welled up inside of me. “Let's just say that Little Beach Bay wasn't always that harmonious for LGBTQIA+ kids back in the day.”

My heart hurt for the brokenness in his tone, and I wanted to fix it somehow. But first, I had to know the problem. “I'm sorry. Were you lonely? Did you at least have a friend or two?”

“For most of my life, I hid, playing the class clown and never speaking my truth. I threw myself into the persona I created, which was who I was to a degree”—he waggled his eyebrows and pulled his lollipop out of his mouth, holding it like a cigar and doing a hilarious impression of Groucho Marx—“and I never concerned myself with the rumors.”

“And then what happened?” I asked, fascinated by this slight man.

“Then Knight, who would quickly become one of my best friends, stood up and spoke his truth loud and proud—he declared that he was bisexual in the auditorium to damn near the whole school. Three more of us quickly followed suit,standing up and proclaiming where we fit in the rainbow. The four of us became a band of brothers that day. That was my freshman year in high school, so it changed the landscape of the next four years of my life for the better.” He bowed his head. “Not everyone got that lucky.”

Sensing a deep grief in his words, I didn’t want to push, no matter how badly I wanted to hear why he sounded so wounded. This was his place of employment, and I was a customer. No more, no less, and it was none of my business. “Wow. You're going to have to tell me that story one day.” Likely, we’d never be in a situation for that to happen, but I wanted the young man to know that I heard him, and I cared.

Shrugging, he went back to my hair. “There's not much more to say, other than how thankful I am for Knight, Ace, and Joshua. They’re my boys for life.” He deepened his voice and put a hand over his heart at the end. Hilariously dramatic, as always.

“Do they all still live at the LBB?”

“They do. Knight is our football hero turned police officer, Ace owns the auto mechanic shop in town, and Joshua works in Takoda, but he commutes back home every night.”

As Kenny reclined my chair back for my shave, I asked, “And you didn't want to do that? Commute?”

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