I watched as my wife set a magnificent golden-brown turkey on the counter, the centerpiece to this year's Thanksgiving feast. Janet poked the bird with a thermometer, nodding with approval before moving onto the next item on the checklist.
"We need more solo cups. Damn it! All we have is Coke and Sprite! You know damn well cousin Rita only drinks diet! What kind of hosts are we if we have no fucking VARIETY, huh? BILLY!"
Janet tapped a sensible loafer against the gleaming tiles, waiting for a response.
"If you think we should get more, I can go-"
She rose to all five feet of her height, practically standing on her toes in a vain attempt to meet my eyes.
"It's too late now, the family is on their way! I should've never listened to you! We're going to run out, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!"
Her expression of fury suddenly twisted into a welcoming smile.
"Come on in! Glad you could make it! You can put your coats in the spare bedroom over there. How was the trip? I know the traffic that way is-" Her high false laughter filled the house.
Disinterested, I stared out the enormous bay windows, absently wondering if it would start raining soon.
I have been married for thirty-four loveless years, half of which had also been sexless.
Her hair was dyed and cut by the best stylist in the county. Genuine diamonds glittered in her ears. The spacious kitchen she lorded over was furnished lavishly with every modern convenience.
I had tried my best to build a home for us, to give Janet everything she ever wanted.
It wasn't enough. It was NEVER enough.
As time passed, my wife and I went from young lovers, to reluctant co-parents, to adversarial roommates. Early into our marriage, I learned I had to find different ways to satisfy my needs.
"Richard, Claire! We missed you last year!"
I tore my eyes away from the dreary autumn scenery.
Richard Davis, my wife's younger brother and twice-divorced black sheep of the Davis family.
He didn't always attend the family reunions, but when he did, he mostly kept to himself, nursing his solo cup of cheap beer and laughing nervously when the conversation demanded his involvement.
He was a short, slim man in his mid fifties with salt and pepper hair and deep blue eyes.
His ass wasn't that bad to look at, either.
I wasn't sure what spurred me on that day, but soon as Janet had moved on to the next group, I said, "Richard, we've missed you." I engulfed him in my arms. "I really have, you know," I said softly into his ear.
Richard's eyes opened wide with confusion before he broke our embrace.
From the edge of the living room, Claire, Richard's teenage daughter, lowered the novel she was reading and raised an eyebrow.
I know I fucked up. Don't rub it in.
Wanting to do something useful, I went to work carving the turkey Janet had so painstakingly prepared. Wonderfully tender, and moist.
"Come and get it," I announced to the family. "Claire, Richard, I think you should go first."
Janet shot me a venomous look. Janet's mother was always first in line to eat; this rule was unspoken and uncontested, until now.
I shrugged, a devious grin spreading on my face. As soon as the final bumper sticker-covered minivan departed my lawn, this kitchen would turn into an active war zone.
The Davises cautiously approached the table, sensing the tension in the air.
"Here, Claire. Take a drumstick."
Her heavily penciled eyes widened. "How did you know it was my favorite," she murmured. "THANK YOU!" She piled green bean casserole and stuffing onto her paper plate, oblivious to the other relatives' staring.
"And
you
can have whichever one you like," I said to Richard, giving him a meaningful look.
He gave a nervous chuckle, quickly securing his meal before scurrying off.
Janet's mother shuffled by him seemingly offended in this break in routine, and Richard looked abashed as he sat at the main table.
The uncomfortable silence broke,
and everyone reverted to the same boring script.
I took my obligatory place by Janet, playing my role as husband-host admirably.
I explained to a mildly interested Cousin Steve and his wife Rebecca the architecture of our home, noting the Frank Lloyd Wright influences, before Cousin Rita abruptly changed the subject to her latest fad diet.
"It's called intermittent fasting. You don't eat at all except for a small window of time once a day, then you can have whatever you want!"
She took a sip out of her third refill of Diet Coke. "I'm starting to think it's a scam though; I haven't lost any weight!"
I wanted to die.
"You could try not eating so much junk food, Rita," Richard mumbled.
The rest of the table stared at him.
"It's not junk if it's DIET, Richard! Have you not read the PACKAGING?!?"
I stifled the urge to laugh, an endeavor Claire failed in.
Janet glared death across the table at me, her silent message loud and clear: DO SOMETHING BILLY!
I cleared my throat. "Who wants dessert? We have a wide selection over here. Janet made her famous strawberry shortcake!" I kissed her cheek for added effect.
Janet gave a small smile.The wicked witch seemed sated...for the moment.
As the others rose from their seats, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Richard.
"We need to talk," he muttered, gesturing to the front door.
I remembered the scene I made with the turkey. It had been more to spite Janet than anything else, but Richard hadn't known that.
He's going to give me shit, but at least he'll do it in private, I thought.
A misty rain fell as he led me to his beat-up Honda Accord. I adjusted the passenger's seat all the way back, my long legs still bent awkwardly.
I tried to head him off quickly.
"Richard, I did not mean anything earlier-"
He held up a hand to stop me. "It's okay. No one ever stands up for me like that." His face turned red. "Are you...interested in me?"
I was stunned.
"I mean...since the divorce and everything I haven't really had-you know- and I get that it's out of nowhere, and I might be misinterpreting, but-"
"No." I gifted him a rare, genuine smile. "You were absolutely right."
Richard blushed harder.
Damn, he was so cute.
"Please. You can call me Dickie. Just between us."
"Okay, Dickie. I like that."
He explained that the divorce had been very hard on him. His ex-wife had devastated him, both financially and emotionally.
"--But she was good in the sack. When she was gone, well, it left a void."
For the first time, he had been free to experiment with his desires, and it had led him to some unexpected places.
"At first, it was just like what the hell, I'll try it. I clicked on some gay porn, not thinking it'd do anything for me. Then, I clicked on another one. And another. Eventually, my alarm clock went off and I realized I forgot to sleep."
"Have you ever thought about actually being with a man?"
He admitted that he had thought about it a lot, but never had the courage or opportunity to act upon the urge.
"I didn't want my daughter to have to see any of this, so I never tried dating other men.
The closest I got was that time I went to a sex shop. I had never been to one before. They had these booths with the holes in the wall-"
"Glory holes."
"Yeah, those. I-I just couldn't do it."
"Can I hug you?"
He obliged, and I felt him trembling under my arms. "How can I do this when I have a daughter who needs me?"
My shirt was wet with tears. "Shh. It's okay," I said, holding him tightly.
"There's nothing wrong with pursuing your own happiness."
"A-And my sister! How can I do that to my--You look so happy together!"
