Boy Story: The Road Taken - 5. That's a Compliment

That’s A Compliment

Nearly three weeks passed before Parker returned to the mall, but Barbara made good on her promise to bring him by to meet me. I had no clue what to expect, but just the opportunity to meet him was all I really hoped for. I was sure there would be something about him that I’d find annoying or lacking. No one could be that good looking physically and not have serious flaws of some kind.

It was a Thursday night a little after 8:00 when I saw Barbara walk into the store with Parker in tow. Barbara must have been on break. They pulled up in front of me and Barbara did the introductions. Parker stuck his hand out and I gripped it for the handshake. His hand was soft and warm. Well, he was polite at least.

He looked a little different—it was his hair. It was different from the first time I saw him. Same color but more like a California surfer style. I asked him what they call that style haircut. He said the hair salon had no specific name for it, he just called it a “mop cut.” Although Parker had different hair and clothes than when I originally saw him, he still looked adorable.

Things went slow at first, but I finally got into my groove and I was telling stories, cracking jokes, doing impressions of people in the mall, and basically entertaining them. It was like I became a one-man show with very little effort. It just came pouring out of me.

The piece de résistance was when I dove head-first into a floor rack because—as my cover story went—I needed to level it. But it was more a clever ploy to display my posterior to those in attendance. All of the girls I’d dated before said I had a really nice butt, so why not show off one of my best assets? Of course, this cheap thrill was for Parker’s benefit, not Barbara’s.

We did get around to talking about music. Parker and I did most of the talking with Barbara chiming in every now and then. He had wider-ranging musical tastes than I did, but I had at least some exposure to bands that he mentioned. I was able to hold my own in the conversation, and I think at some point we bypassed Barbara’s comfort zone. Yes, she worked in a record store, but it was one of those “mall record stores” which were generally not the hippest places when it came to new music.

I discreetly examined his face as we chatted. I studied his eyes first. They were blue, but not bright blue. Truth be told, I always thought people with bright blue eyes looked alien. Parker’s were a blue/grey color that fit him perfectly. I could have stared at the amazing color of his eyes the whole time, but that would have probably freaked him out, so I made sure to pace myself. When he got animated during our discussion, his eyes would light up and my heart would flutter a bit. I continued examining the shape of his nostrils and looked for razor zones to see if he was shaving yet—it appeared not.

I watched the motion of his red lips as he spoke, and I witnessed the frequent flash of his white teeth and the movement of his perfect chin and those little rosy patches on his cheeks.

It was at this point that I suddenly said, “Braces?”

He abruptly stopped talking and said, “What?”

“Did you have braces as a kid?”

“Um, yeah. How did you know that?” he asked.

“I had braces too when I was in Middle School,” I offered. “Your teeth are as straight as mine, so chances are…”

“Wow, that’s a pretty neat trick,” he replied.

There was a wall mirror near where we were standing and we compared teeth in the reflection.

He joked, “By golly, you’re right! They’d better still be straight after my mother spent so much on them.”

I must admit the entire time we were all talking, I was looking for any telltale signs that Parker was gay. There was no nasally or affected voice, no limp wrists or over-the-top gestures, no referring to a guy as “she,” and no references to show tunes or female singers. I saw not a single thing that would set off anyone’s gaydar. Thankfully, this was a gay boy who did not fit any of the nelly stereotypes I had come to despise. He was just really sweet and genuine…oh yeah, and adorable.

Well, the visit flew right by. There was much to talk about, mostly music related, but there was nothing wrong with that. He was better with newer alternative music and I was better with older alternative, but we were at least speaking the same language. As we were wrapping things up, I invited Parker to drop by any time he was in the mall for some more music chat, and he said, “Yeah, for sure.” And they were off. He did look back at me once before they dropped out of sight, and I gave him the head nod good-bye in response and he flashed back a quick smile that melted my heart.

The following week, Barbara stopped by the store for a visit the next time we were working on the same night. I held back on asking about Parker, hoping she would bring him up first…and she did. She said that Parker was impressed with my musical knowledge and he thought I was “handsome and clever.”

“He said you reminded him of a young Richard Gere,” she said.

“Oh…is that a good thing?” I asked.

She laughed and said, “Of course, that’s a compliment.”

Barbara then made small talk about her and Parker and how they sometimes go to concerts or to the movies. She also told me that Parker didn’t drive. He didn't even have a license! I thought that was odd because I couldn’t wait to get mine. I’d always felt that the freedom of movement a car affords a person is invaluable. He apparently did have a learner’s permit, but was doing just fine getting rides or taking the bus in a pinch. “His mom owns the only car and that’s how she gets to work, so Parker isn’t allowed to drive it unless she’s in it with him,” Barbara explained. “His mother will often drop him at the mall if she goes out, and then I drive him home after work.”

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