The door chimed and the train began to move. As I reached for the overhead bar to steady myself my palm grazed a man's hand. He was holding the rail with his right hand and clutching a folded copy of the New York Post with his left.
"Sorry," I said automatically.
The man slowly turned his head to me. He stared at me with his wide, brown eyes. "We're gay now,” he said coldly.
“What?" I said with a chuckle.
"Your hand touched mine,” he said. “That makes us gay together."
I laughed, but I stopped when I realized he wasn't joking. "Uh, yeah, I don't think so."
His face was pale and flat, like a tombstone. "That’s the rule," he said.
I winced.
We stared at one another uncomfortably. After a moment the train stopped, and the man began to inch toward the door. As he shuffled behind me he spoke softly into my ear. "We might as well get started. Meet tonight at eight at the Barley Club for an intimate dinner." His brow narrowed. "Don't be late, I have reservations."
As he walked down the platform something struck me. I stepped out the door and called after him. "How do you have reservations if you just met me?"
The man's only reply was the ruffling of his black suit coat.
"Sorry," I said automatically.
The man slowly turned his head to me. He stared at me with his wide, brown eyes. "We're gay now,” he said coldly.
“What?" I said with a chuckle.
"Your hand touched mine,” he said. “That makes us gay together."
I laughed, but I stopped when I realized he wasn't joking. "Uh, yeah, I don't think so."
His face was pale and flat, like a tombstone. "That’s the rule," he said.
I winced.
We stared at one another uncomfortably. After a moment the train stopped, and the man began to inch toward the door. As he shuffled behind me he spoke softly into my ear. "We might as well get started. Meet tonight at eight at the Barley Club for an intimate dinner." His brow narrowed. "Don't be late, I have reservations."
As he walked down the platform something struck me. I stepped out the door and called after him. "How do you have reservations if you just met me?"
The man's only reply was the ruffling of his black suit coat.
A chime sounded and I stepped back into the car just as the doors closed.
I arrived at the Barley Club at 8 o'clock for an unsatisfying steak dinner. After tiramisu and coffee the man--his name turned out to be Jeff--asked me how I was enjoying my life as a newly-minted gay man.
"It’s,” I paused, struggling to find the right word, “different. You?"
He shrugged. "No offense, but I preferred my girlfriend. But rules are rules."
Candlelight and shadow danced across his face. I pictured us, twenty years from now, silently walking two French bulldogs down a quaint side-street in Greenwich Village. "Yeah,” I sighed. “Rules are rules."
I arrived at the Barley Club at 8 o'clock for an unsatisfying steak dinner. After tiramisu and coffee the man--his name turned out to be Jeff--asked me how I was enjoying my life as a newly-minted gay man.
"It’s,” I paused, struggling to find the right word, “different. You?"
He shrugged. "No offense, but I preferred my girlfriend. But rules are rules."
Candlelight and shadow danced across his face. I pictured us, twenty years from now, silently walking two French bulldogs down a quaint side-street in Greenwich Village. "Yeah,” I sighed. “Rules are rules."
2 comments:
Your mind is lovely. In a different, freakish sort of way.
Why thank you!
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