Page 19 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

The thought gave Ronnie the shudders. “Ugh, I’d rather chew glass.”

“Ronnie!” Joe snapped, not even hiding his anger anymore.

“I mean, no thanks.” Ronnie tried to leave it at that, but something inside of him refused. “This place is pretty ’n’ all, but me and Joey have big goals that do not include getting stuck spending the rest of our lives cleaning other people’s houses on fucking Fire Island.”

A large sandbag of silence landed smack into the middle of the four men. Joe, looking humiliated, started busying himself with wrapping up what was left of his sandwich. Lenny and Howie simply shot glances at each other. Hot fingers of embarrassment crawled across Ronnie’s face. He hated losing control like that. Why did hedislike these two men so much—especially Howie? Was it that he was old? No. He liked older men. Was it because Howie dressed androgynously? No again. Ronnie was friendly with plenty of drag queens—at least casually. Yet the worms of disdain squirmed in his gut.

“I better go check on the Bolognese on the stove,” Lenny finally said.

“Good idea,” Howie agreed. “I think I’m gonna go back to Jerry’s house. I left some towels in the dryer.”

“Wait,” Joe said. “I’m sure Ronnie didn’t mean that to come out the way it did.”

Ronnie couldn’t even look up as he shrugged. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Howie smiled at him. “You’re not wrong about how some of us get stuck here. If I had my druthers, I’d have preferred to get stuck in P-town or Key West. But I do believe the universe puts us where we’re most needed. Sometimes it ends up being wonderful—and other times we must patiently wait for the ‘wonderful’ to arrive. And sometimes that waiting takes a very long time. But it’s good to trust life, Ronnie. I hope you will someday.”

Fuck this guy,Ronnie thought.How dare he say something like that to me?Of course Ronnie trusted life. Pathetic old gay guys like Howie were just jealous of his good looks and positive energy, so they tried to crush his spirit. He definitely needed to watch out for Joe with these guys.

“Gotcha,” Ronnie said bitterly.

“Fine, then,” Howie said, pushing pass the awkwardness. “We’ll leave you two to your day off.” He took hold of the cleaning caddy. “Lenny, shall we?”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Joe pounced. “What the fuck was that?”

“You don’t think that was a nasty comment he just made about me not trusting life?” Ronnie’s voice leaped an octave. “He basically called me stupid and trashy.”

“He didn’t call you trashyorstupid. He’s totally on your side, and you just told them their whole lives were wasted! What the hell?”

“That’s not how I heard it! And by the way, I know you told him stuff about me … like how I grew up?”

“How you grew up?” Joe looked puzzled. “I barely know anything about how you grew up. I just told them that you were a nice guy. Thanks for proving me wrong.”

Ronnie looked out toward the bay. Two black swans were fighting over a fish. The smaller of the two refused to relent and was able to swallow down the fish in a gulp. The larger one, irate at the loss, opened his bill and screamed, then nipped at the smaller one’s tail feathers before turning and paddling away.

“I’m sorry,” Ronnie finally said. “It’s just guys like him, dressing like that, smiling all the time, making vague wacko comments—they bug the shit out of me. Also they were looking at both of us weird. Totally creeped me out. If you want my opinion, I think you should start looking for a new place to live as soon as possible.”

“But I like their place.” Joe was adamant. “And I’d prefer you didn’t act like a dick and ruin this situation for me, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Ronnie huffed a big, bored sigh. “I promise I won’t cause problems for you. Can we talk about something else now?”

Ronnie went back to quizzing Joe on the cocktail recipes, but he felt no joy in it. He hated how he’d let Howie get to him. Why would the older man think Ronnie didn’t trust life? Life was great. Life was a pearl-filled oyster. Fuck those two weird old house cleaners. Fuck them to the end of the world.

10.The Sad, Sad Beauty of Howard Fishbein

“Disco Witches get older. Fear not. Keep boogying. The Great Goddess Mother has a DJ set just for you.”

—Disco Witch Manifesto #73

Howie awoke from another bad dream, which he couldn’t remember. Even though Lenny was only two rooms away, and Joe was asleep above his head in the attic, he felt so alone and frightened. He couldn’t stop thinking about Max’s terrible coughing and the last words he’d heard him speak:“Must look for the …”

“What did you want us to look for, Max?” Howie whispered to the giant black-and-white photo facing his bed. It was of Max dressed as his most famous drag-queen prophetess character, Eartha Delights and Her Ominous Bush. “You need to get better and call me back, Max. I need you.”

Howie got up from the bed and tiptoed into the living room. He drew down from the top shelf his favorite photo of Max and himself from that first summer they spent together in Provincetown. It was 1960, and they were both working as barbacks at the A-House, both so young and beautiful. Max had emigrated from Guatemala as a teenager and still spoke slightly accented English.

The photo had been taken at the top of Pilgrim Monument, the two-hundred-and-fifty-two-foot memorial that defines the center of Provincetown. It was Max’s idea to climb the tourist monument—and that’s where he and Howie had kissed for the first time.

Howie spent so many hours that summer stretched out naked in the dunes, listening to Max recount stories of his mystical youth among the volcanos of Lake Atitlan or, more recently, as a love rebel in the communes of Lavender Hill. It was Max who would teach Howie his rightful place in the world and unlock his magical gifts.

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