Page 25 of Gift Horse

Gustavo & Nicolás

Cordially invite you to participate in their

Legal, Loving Union

In the bottom left-hand corner is the date and RSVP instructions, but it’s only now that I’m in the center of a meeting of cartoon and superhero characters that I see the words “COSPLAY ENCOURAGED” in the bottom-right corner of the heavy, embossed card.

“Mariano.” I turn in time to see my newest friend, Juliette, dressed as herself, which is to say, dripping with jewels rather than latex or faux fur. She’s powering herself across the dance floor towards my table. “You got a front row seat? How clever of you, sweetie. It’s going to be a blast.”

I hadn’t thought about it, but I suppose I am quite close to the wedding bower. There’s a raised dais, complete with columns and ribbons, and the flowers arc up into the rafters. It’s only on closer inspection that I see that the clusters of cerulean, scarlet, emerald, and purple are made up of action figures and multicolored Beanie Babies. “There were no place cards and I…”

“Yes, well. There’s no telling how long we might have to wait for the groom and groom. Be a darling and get me a glass of Château Haut-Brion. No, get two. The line…”

The bar at the far end of the tent heaves with wedding guests, but they look more like they’re going to a comic convention than a wedding. So far, I’ve spied three Superman outfits, an Iron Man, a Catwoman, a Batwoman, and someone in a delightful skimpy orange costume that shows more flesh than it covers and ends in a flourish of flaming tail. Her calves are sculpted, her thighs toned, and the curves and swerves that make up the rest of her ensemble are a sight to behold. She’s painted herself orange and added scales, wings, horns, and a dragon mask, so it’s impossible to see where the costume ends and the woman begins, but no matter. The effect is, one assumes, what she was hoping for. She’s dynamite. A cut above the rest. If this were a competition, she’d win. Hands down.

Unbidden, Lolly’s laughing face flashes through my mind. She must be here somewhere—I have seen the way she and Gustavo laugh, the way he always greets her withbesoson each cheek. She would never miss his wedding which means I’ll have one last chance to put my cards on the table and try to explain…

“Go on.” Juliette puts her hand in the small of my back gives me a little push. “They won’t bite.”

I will myself not to search for Lolly as I fight my way through a Chewbacca-Princess Leia argument which seems to be centered around whether Chewie is allowed to take his stuffed head off in order to have a drink.

“You’ll spoil it.” The Princess’ voice is an octave lower than I expected—not Lolly, then. Hats off to a damned fine drag outfit. “We want Nicolás to be bowled over. He doesn’t know…”

“Excuse me.” I don’t want to brush up against the blue creature who’s directly in my way, not because he’s a blue creature, but because my tails are worth a few dollars, and I plan to sell them before I leave. UntilThrills, Spills, & Killsstarts paying me, I plan to play the hermit and the skinflint, mostly because I can’t afford to be anything else.

The crowd heaves and I’m shoved into someone. He stumbles, and it’s only as I grab his arm to steady both him and me that I see he’s not wearing a costume, but a military uniform.

“Sir, I apologize for my clumsiness.” If the man hears me, I cannot tell. He is taking the kind of breaths that belong to someone barely keeping control, verging toward a kind of panic I’ve seen before. “There’s a place to sit over near the door.” When the man doesn’t move, I take his arm and lead him to the seat far from the press of the crowd.

“Thank you.” He’s broken out in a sweat, but his breathing is more steady as I squat next to him, so I do not loom threateningly. Something orange flashes in the corner of my eye—the same splendid creature from earlier?—but I must keep focused on this man, the veteran, before me.

“I think it is I who should be thanking you. What’s your drink? I’ll bring it for you.” I see Juliette up front, craning her neck looking for me, but hers is a lesser need.

“I’m fine.” The man’s forehead is beaded with sweat.

“I’d be pleased to do this small service for you.” I must be convincing, because the man tells me water would be nice.

I thread through the crowd again, marveling at the exuberance as I raise my hand over the heads of an Eevee (complete with her bunny ears), a Leafon (also with bunny-shaped ears, but braids and a bow and arrow to round out her costume), and a character I don’t recognize, but who’s predominantly green and armored. “Two glasses of Château Haut-Brion and a seltzer, please.”

The barman acknowledges me with a smart salute and fetches me a tray, a bottle of Château Haut-Brion, two glasses, and no seltzer. If it were for myself, it would be churlish of me to insist on the water, but it is for my veteran friend, and so I press and am rewarded with not one, but two seltzers. I take my winnings and weave my way back through the press of latex, fur, and spray-painted breastplates, first to the warrior whose wounds, like so many, are on the inside, and then go to Juliette.

“Xena.” A six-foot Xena, Warrior Princess, steps into my path, her outfit a shining example of why gay men are the fashionistas of the world. “How’s it hanging?”

Locker room banter means I know the answer to this challenge. “To the left.”

“Does Sir bat for the home team or play away?” He straightens my bowtie and flicks imaginary lint from my shoulders.

I’m less sure of my ground here, but the vibe is flirty and friendly, and I believe Xena has asked me whether I’m gay. This isn’t the first time I’ve been propositioned by a gay man in full drag. I think it has something to do with the tight trousers and well-fitted polo shirts that make up my usual uniform, and the slim-cut jackets I prefer when the event calls for it. But it is the first time a six-foot Xena has asked me to hook up with him. “I’m flattered…”

“Never mind.” He rolls his eyes. “It was worth a try.” He moves past me to another man in tails and asks the same question, with the same ease and grace. I scan the crowd again, catching a flash of orange that’s there and then gone, all the while thinking it takes balls to proposition someone—anyone, ever. I can hardly imagine whatcojonesit takes to be a gay man in a predominantly straight world and risk rejection at every turn. Though, in this room I’m in the minority, so perhaps his chances of finding a playmate are higher than usual.

Before I’ve made it more than a few feet through the throng, Xena has linked arms with his man, though he’s as plainly dressed as me, and is steering him to the back of the tent, hands already moving from waist to ass.

There’s something about the ease with which gay guys hook up that’s extremely pleasing. They know what they want and they go for it. If only it were that simple for me.

GUSTAVO TIES HIMSELF IN KNOTS

Mariano Arias. High Winds Polo Club. Palm Beach, Florida.

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