The Art of Being Gay - 1. Signs

Signs

Chad looked up at the cracks in the ceiling and thought the shape of the stain right above him looked an awful lot like Greenland. The late evening sun was just peeking through the worn, lime green curtains he’d tried to close but couldn’t. He supposed they had shrunk from years of washing. There was still the faint smell of stale smoke that wafted out of the mattress he was laying on whenever he moved. His few things were put into the rickety pasteboard stand-alone wardrobe and scarred wooden dresser missing two drawers.

“What the hell am I doing here?” he asked the spider busily spinning a web in the corner.

It had been quite the day so far. In the wee hours of the morning he’d put his few clothes and personal items into the back of his 2000 Chevy Silverado and headed north from Council Bluffs. By the time he reached Minneapolis, his courage had begun to ebb. Downtown Minneapolis was a massive sea of asphalt and skyscrapers and any green space looked as cramped and overwhelmed as he felt.

Uptown was worse. It was also crowded but with shiny, young, hip people who stared with contempt at his truck and his jean jacket. He’d be turning forty next month and looked it. These people were dressed so strangely, men in Capri pants and women in dresses that looked like flour sacks. The rents demanded in the neighborhood were ridiculous compared to home. Studio apartments in Council Bluffs were around $500 a month and here they topped a thousand bucks without parking. Chad felt out of place and more alone than he ever had, even after That Night.

Later in the afternoon, he climbed into his truck and headed south ready to go back home to Iowa. Along the way, he saw this house in Chaska. It was set back from amongst the rows of identical townhouses and single family homes into a copse of trees. It looked as secluded as he felt and there was a sign that said “Rooms for Rent.”

He took the sign as his sign he might have found a place to find himself. So, here he lay on a borrowed bed in a room that had seen better days trying to figure out why he was here. Chad thought again about his reasons for coming here and the voices returned to remind him.

“How could you embarrass the family so bad,” his sister Shelly cried. “I mean, if you chose to be gay, at least be quiet about it. Don’t make everyone look at us that way.”

“I don’t know what to say to you. Do you know what this will do to your son? I don’t care much about how it appears. But, this isn’t how I raised you. Now your son will bear the burden of your behavior.” That was his mother. She at least talked to him. His father’s silence was deadly as it filled up a space in his heart with a bubble that wouldn’t burst. It pressed on him and wouldn’t deflate.

“I always knew there was something wrong with you Chad,” his ex-wife Eileen laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh either. “Justin is sick about it, what you did. You’ve always been a selfish man. Now we know why.”

Chad pulled his mind away from the tape that played over and over in his head since That Night. Sometimes his boss’ voice or one of his friends’ comments would join this family’s scolding.

The only voice that calmed him, sustained him, and gave him some measure of courage was his son’s. Chad’s mother was wrong. Justin supported him from the beginning. Even the day after, Justin hugged him and smiled at him.

It was his son’s advice that he took to come up here to the Twin Cities and ‘find himself’. Like some flower child or new age therapy patient, Chad accepted the premise and fled his home.

How would he figure out how to be gay out here in the outer suburbs? That part hadn’t resolved itself but he couldn’t live in the city. It was too close, too crowded, and most of all there was no real space to breathe.

Chad knew gay people lived in Chaska, he’d met one, once. If there was one, there had to be more. It wasn’t like in Council Bluffs where there weren’t any happy gay people, not like on T.V. and the movies. The gay people in Council Bluffs were pathetic, lonely, isolated beings without a life to call their own.

Like Peggy, the rail thin tattoo artist and her ‘roommate’ Jeanine. Peggy had a voice like a man and always seemed grouchy and sore about something or another. Chad supposed Jeanine, who worked as a cashier at the IGA grocery store, seemed a little happier even though she appeared really tired all the time.

There was Steven, the Methodist church organist. He lived alone, had a huge garden, and stayed mostly to himself. Once in a while, he’d duck into the same local bar Chad hung out in for a brew. Not that Steven drank beer. He drank vodka soda with a twist of lemon. Chad knew only one other salient fact about Steven’s sad, solitary existence. Every month on the third Thursday, a truck would park down the street from the organist’s house. It would stay there throughout the weekend until Sunday morning.

Chad stopped and thought about it. It was weird. Those were the Sundays when Steven’s organ playing would be the best. Usually it was technically good, if boring. But on those Sundays, the organ would take on a new life. He’d bang and tease a little extra kick to the hymns, such as they were. Still, Chad couldn’t imagine a duller, more lifeless existence.

Unless it was the high school English teacher, Silas Morgan.

Silas was a regular at the Steam Engine, their little neighborhood bar. A better example of a bitter old queen could not be found. Silas’ tongue was as sharp as a razor blade though it cut much deeper. He was only a few years ahead of Chad in school, went to college, and came back to teach. Each year he worked with kids, Silas became more harsh and dismissive. Chad talked to him once in a while until his negativity finally became too oppressive to bear.

“You know dad, gay means happy too,” Justin said to him. “You don’t have to be miserable all the time.”

That’s why he was here, Chad decided. His son talked him into going someplace else to discover his gay side. He’d run from it, hidden it away, and all to no good use. In the end, it had come bursting out in a blaze of disgrace that poisoned all his relationships and distanced himself from his community.

Chad heard and felt his stomach growl. The little microwave with neatly stacked cans of soup and vegetables on top of it beckoned him. He resisted them. It had been a long, rough, soul sucking day. Chad put on his shoes and grabbed his wallet and keys. He’d seen a little café up the road. Maybe he could have a modest meal there.

*************

Chad whistled to a Garth Brooks song playing on the radio. He drove around the old section of town, finding his way through the streets lined with old oak trees. The man was about to get onto the highway back to the rooming house when he saw the sign. It was the second of the day and this one was just as promising.

“Minnemart is now hiring stockers and warehouse personnel. Apply in person.”

He needed work. He had no contacts here with construction companies or mechanical servicing firms. Maybe a mindless job would give him the time and energy to figure his shit out. It was worth a shot.

Chad turned into the parking lot of the big box store. The light poured out from the gigantic front windows drawing him in. He put the Silverado into park and stepped out into the light that bathed him in promise. Eating a steak and baked potato had calmed him, made things not quite as daunting. He headed into the store.

Behind the service counter was a woman with fading brown hair. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and was talking with a man with shortly cropped red hair. His face was animated and his arms flailed about. The woman laughed and he chuckled along with her. They looked happy. That was a good sign.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked as he approached.

“I saw you were looking for help,” Chad said. “Could I get an application from you?”

“Sure thing. My, you are a big guy aren’t you?” she said ripping a preprinted sheet from a pad. “I like ‘em big.”

The other man scowled at her then looked quickly back at his clipboard.

“Are you single, married, looking for some fun?” she asked chewing on some gum quite vigorously.

The man ignored her though his face was slightly pink. Chad guessed he was embarrassed by her forward talk, but it didn’t bother him.

Chad’s instinctual impulse was to flirt back making her blush and stutter. Then, he remembered why he was here. It wasn’t to continue his life of lies. It wasn’t to pretend to be a single man on the hunt for a woman. This response would change everything. He was sure of it. Chad thought about his son’s comments and questions to him. He needed to be brave and show his son that courage doesn’t come from comfort. Courage comes from facing adversity dead on.

“Sorry ma’am. I’m gay,” he said. The words hung there in the air. It was the first time he’d ever said them to a stranger. He had to admit it to his boss, his ex-wife, his son, his parents, and all his shit-kicking friends. When he’d done it then, devastation followed, well except with Justin. Now, he laid his soul bare to a stranger and it felt liberating, though his breathing accelerated as he waited for a response.

She sighed. “Well, that’s too bad. I guess this one’s for you, boss.”

The man looked up at Chad. His expression remained blank, though the pink of his cheeks grew rosier. He never said a word but a tiny smile graced his lips. Chad thought that smile made his whole day worthwhile. First day in a new town and he’d already found a like soul. His chest constricted.

“Fill that sucker out and bring it back. We’ll call people later this week for interviews.” The woman looked completely disinterested in Chad now. She was punching buttons on her computer.

“Do you have a pen?” Chad asked.

“Oh sure honey,” she grinned at him. “Here you go. My name’s Madeline by the way. Hope you get the job.”

“Thanks,” Chad said. He walked over to a small table with two chairs and began filling out the application. It didn’t take long. He’d only had one job his whole life, well, since he was in high school. He worried that might be a problem. What if Stan blackballed him, gave him a shitty reference.

It’s only Minnemart, he reasoned. No reason to start trouble with yourself.

He returned the application to Madeline and Chad noticed the man had disappeared. She thanked him again and he went back outside. It had been a long day and his bones ached, urging him toward his lonely, single bed. Chad drove back to the boarding house slowly though. There was much to take in.