Chapter 5: Simon

Julia and I had just finished making love. Well, that wasn't really true. We never quote-unquote made love. We fucked, maybe, but there was very little love there -- our frantic thrusts and loud cries were more a way of getting out our mutual aggression. I was pretty sure the whole house could hear the strain on the bed as we angrily thumped against it. Oh well. It wasn't like anyone here had a right to be scandalized.

I rolled off of her after my massive climax subsided and I had blasted Julia's cunt with what felt like a gallon of my cum. She growled as she felt the last tremors subside. Sweat had pooled between her peach-sized breasts. Julia sat up and began stretching, as if she was in the midst of an exceptionally lewd workout video.

"What are you doing?" I said, my brain still cloudy.

"Gotta stay limber," she said, and I had no idea if she was being serious or not.

The scene was too weird for me, and I had work in half an hour. I rolled out of bed and pulled on my hastily-discarded pants. I hadn't even bothered to get out of my shirt, which was now damp with sweat. I left Julia alone to her exercises.

The minute I was out of her room I bumped into Simon. He had a slightly nervous look on his face. "Oh, um. Hi," I said.

"Hi," said Simon. It was awkward. There was the usual thing of running into someone who's just heard you trying to drive a girl through the mattress, but it was more than that. Since the last time I had rebuked Simon, balking at the last minute, we had been dancing around each other, always pleasant but clearly not knowing what to do. It was like there was a wall between us -- or not a wall, but that weird slippery field of magnetic repulsion when you try to push two north poles together.

"Simon!" Julia called out from here room, sounding as cheery as I had ever heard her. "I was just thinking I needed another gentleman caller. Come on in and keep me company."

Simon shrugged and gave me a goofy grin. "Duty calls." He stepped into Julia's room and closed the door, doubtlessly beginning to make out with her with my cum still dribbling from between her legs. How had I gotten involved with these people again?

In the kitchen Dawn and Ellie were sipping their morning coffee. They both gave me a smug grin as I walked in. "Having a good morning?" Dawn said.

"I was," I said. "Now I gotta go to work."

"First day on the job?" said Ellie. "That's always a tough one."

I scrutinized her facial expression, trying to figure out how much she knew about the circumstances of my recent employment, but it was hopeless. "Yeah," I said.

I looked up towards the silent ceiling. "Okay, do Simon and Julia just not make any noise? And the whole house hears me?"

"Simon knows about some things called tenderness and subtlety," said Dawn.

I grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard as an emergency breakfast. "Whatever, Dawn. You know you like it." Ellie giggled and Dawn just smirked.

"You're an okay distraction," Dawn said. "Now go off to your boring retail job."

Unfortunately, that was exactly what I had to do. As I left the house, I still couldn't hear a peep from upstairs.

"You're late," said Alexis the moment I walked in the door.

I tapped my watch. "9:55. You said my shift started at 10."

"Yes, but I also said you were supposed to be here half an hour early," she said. "You have to stock the shelves, clean the video rooms, and double-check the balance on the computer system. This place doesn't run itself."

I bit my tongue and took up my position behind the desk. Alexis stood over me, looking upset, but there was kind of a strained quality to her anger. I thought she might have been spoiling for a fight that I was failing to give her. Finally she snorted and walked out of the store. "Craig will come in at 6 to relieve you. Till then, try not to burn the place down."

With Alexis gone I could get a fuller picture of Differance Books & Gifts. The location was clandestine in a way that had perhaps once been necessary, but now just seemed difficult. I had circled the block three times before finally noticing the stairwell that lead up to the small storefront above a comic shop. The walls were tightly packed with books that ranged from queer theory to pathos-drenched memoirs to sexual how-tos. A small collection of sex toys and videos sat in the back corner, which I was to learn was actually the main source of revenue for the store. Sunlight filtered in through windows high above, but otherwise the store seemed dark and secretive. It was the opposite of the sunny sex shop with flowers painted on the wall that Dawn had once dragged me to, but this store had its charms too.

Business was slow. A couple people an hour came in, some of which were obviously expecting to chat with Alexis or someone else who worked here and quickly turned away in dismay. A blushing man in a heavy coat came in, lurked around the fringes of the store for twenty minutes, and came to the register with a big stack of books. That amounted to most of my sales for the day. Other than that guy I only moved a couple jars of lube and a lesbian romance novel. I wondered how this place stayed in business. Maybe it was on the way down.

I was perfectly fine to have some nice quiet time to myself. I had a long text conversation with Nina in which we both joked about our jobs and then agreed to meet up for another date on Saturday. After that I relieved my boredom by perusing some of the zines and pamphlets up at the front, and idly wondering how long it might take me to read the entire store's inventory.

Halfway through my shift and two-thirds of the way through the enlightening Fucking Transwomen the cheery bells attached to the door jingled. I looked up to see Alexis carrying a brown paper bag from which she produced a tin foil-wrapped burrito. (After four years of college I could identify such a treat by the shape and the hint of smell alone.) She tossed the burrito to me. I caught it with the edge of my hands, fumbled it, and then managed to catch it again before it hit the ground. Alexis snickered.

"Thought I would bring you some lunch," she said. "You know, in case you didn't pack your own. And even if you did, this is probably better."

"Um ... thanks," I said as I unraveled the gift. It was, in fact, delicious, a big spread of food and flavour concentrated and packed into a fairly small package. Alexis had got one for herself, and bit into it while she stood there in front of me.

"I know you probably haven't heard good things about me," said Alexis. "But I'm not a complete monster." Was that what she wanted me to learn from this?

I stayed quiet, eating my lunch. Alexis paced the floor, leaving a small trail of rice in her wake. She pivoted on her boot-heel and turned to me. "You know, I have to say, I never thought I'd hire a straight white boy to work here. I'm sure you're great, I mean, but it doesn't really fit the vibe of the place."

I stiffened. "I'm not --". I stopped myself.

"You're not what?" said Alexis, cocking her head to one side.

I had been about to say that I wasn't straight. But it seemed like saying that out loud, in what could pass for casual conversation, would change something about me. Was I not straight? Was I gay? Bi? But if so, why did I balk at Simon's cock, and why had I been avoiding the subject and avoiding him since then?

"I don't know," I said.

Alexis rolled her eyes. "Well, when you've sorted out your shit, let me know. I can give you a pin." She laughed as she left the store, and I wondered if anything she had said had been serious.

The thing was, thinking about fucking a dude wasn't that bad -- I had done it a lot recently, sometimes finding myself hard as I tried to envision the details. But thinking about myself being bisexual just seemed strange. I had always thought of myself as a normal guy -- the straight white man, as Alexis had bluntly put it, who never had to think about their identity or see themselves as any kind of minority. If I started fucking other men, would I have to make a big scene of coming out over Thanksgiving dinner? Would I have to start worrying about the religious zealots and bigoted thugs that some of the others discussed in hushed tones? Would I have to start going to pride marches and acting faintly effeminate, or worry about how I was representing queer men?

I was beginning to feel a headache coming on, and I still had half my shift left. I groaned and tried to remember a time when all of this had seemed simple -- living in the house, fucking whoever I wanted and not having to worry about maintaining a delicate relationship. But now it was all just too complicated.

One thing was for sure: I had to talk to Simon. I couldn't let this thing hang over us any longer. But I knew that getting rid of that thing -- the air of awkward uncertainty that sprung up whenever we crossed paths -- might mean going through something much more painful.

When I got home dinner was on the stove and Simon was enmeshed in some sort of card game, so I let matters be. And then after dinner I had to do dishes, and my lethargic body could barely bring itself to scrub, let alone do so with any speed or urgency. Maybe I was killing time, making excuses. I could already feel my resolve starting to weaken.

No, I said to myself. I have to deal with this thing with Simon. I had avoided confronting it -- confronting my sexuality, really -- for months.

I left the dishes half-done, some sitting in the sink, some spread chaotically on the countertop. In the living room I found Padma with her feet up, reading a book.

"Hey," I said. "Have you seen Simon."

"He's out back," she said, not looking up from the book."

I stepped away to find him before realizing that Padma probably knew exactly what I was going through. "Um, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"How did you -- I mean, when you knew you were gay ... what did you do? I mean, how were you sure?"

She looked at me askew. "Well you see, one day I was a nice little straight girl, then I woke up and discovered I had a shaved head and a shelf full of Sleater-Kinney albums."

I shrank. "Sorry, it was a dumb question."

"No, I know what you're thinking," said Padma. She straightened up and patted the seat next to her. "Sit down". It was a maternal, or maybe a big-sister gesture, and I obeyed. And suddenly a heart-to-heart was upon us.

I told her about Simon, about Alexis's remark and all of the weird internal debates it had stirred up inside of me. She listened patiently, nodding softly along. And then she broke out into a grin.

"What's so funny?" I said.

"Jesus Christ, you are hell bent on torturing yourself."

Once again, I felt kind of like an idiot. "Are you telling me you were never uncertain about liking girls? That you never felt tormented about it?"

"Of course I was," said Padma. "Because we live in a shitty world that tells little girls that kissing other little girls is evil, unless it's to get the attention of a dude. But being queer just wasn't something I could choose not to do."

My chest tightened up. "See, that's the thing. I feel like ... I could just not do anything with Simon. Or with any other guy, really. I've been straight for twenty some-odd years and I could do it for another twenty."

Padma smiled. "But you don't want that."

The moment she said it, I realized it was true. "I don't."

Padma leaned in towards me. Her voice had dropped to a kind whisper. "If there's one thing that everyone in this house can agree on, it's this: if you want to fuck someone, and they want to fuck you, then for God's sake the two of you should just do it already and spare the rest of us the anguish. And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can stop. But if you don't ... well, you just might discover something awesome about yourself that you've been repressing for years."

"Thanks," I said as I felt a smile inexorably grow on my face. "I ... needed someone to talk me into it."

"Nah, you just need me to let you talk yourself into it." And then Padma kissed me. Her lips were soft and tasted faintly of peach. It wasn't a romantic or lustful kiss -- she wasn't into boys, after all -- but more an act of friendly affection. I felt warmer afterwards.

"Now knock'em dead."

Propelled by an inexorable energy, I made my way out to the back porch. Simon was out on the deck, sipping a beer and watching the sunset. With the orange light hitting his face, I noticed for the first time how beautiful he was. His face had a kind of Grecian elegance to it, and his skinny body now seemed sleek and (dare I say it?) sexy. I wasn't used to finding beauty in men's faces, but it was definitely there.

Simon turned to look at me. "Can I do something for you."

"A lot of things, actually," I said.

He rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to be more specific."

I took a deep breath. "Okay, um ... I think I want to fuck you."

Simon sat back and fanned his fingers. "I thought you weren't into cocks."

"I never said that. I just ... needed some time to think about it."

Simon looked away at a orange-purple streak of sky. "Well, you certainly are a romantic. You just have a way with words."

I was growing increasingly frustrated. "Okay, I'm sorry. Look, I just don't want things to be awkward between us. We can be together or not, it's up to you -- but I hate this weird, in-between state."

Simon stood up and stared me in the face. His eyes were a pale, almost haunting blue. He stepped in a little closer. He was about an inch shorter than me, but somehow when he stepped up in my face he felt intimidated.

As he spoke, I could feel his breath on my neck. "If you're so decided, then kiss me already."

I felt that strange mixture of aversion and temptation again, like magnetic repulsion. For a moment I was sure I would back away and chicken out again. But then, without consciously deciding to do it, I grabbed Simon by the back of the head and pressed his lips to mine.

It was different from kissing a girl (and I had kissed one moments ago, so I had a frame of reference). Simon's lips were drier and harder, and he pressed more forcefully against me. It felt a little jarring for our chests to be so close together, no soft breasts in between, but it wasn't unpleasant.

The kiss hung in the summer air like a swarm of cicadas. Neither of us wanted to move, our bodies locked as firmly as our lips. But eventually Simon pulled away. He looked at me appraisingly. "Okay. Come inside."

I realized that we were holding hands. Simon lead me through the kitchen and up the staircase to his bedroom. Along the way I heard a chorus of giggles -- Padma, and maybe Dawn too, doubtlessly making light of our dalliance. I didn't really care.

We stepped into Simon's room, and he immediately shut the door. I had never been in here before. The walls were egg-shell white and covered with black-and-white posters of various bands, mainly alternative groups from the 80s. I recognized The Smiths, Joy Division, Devo, and Wire, and a couple others looked familiar. A queen-sized bed sat on the far side of the room. Simon let go of my hand and almost immediately flopped down on the bed. He rolled over and patted the space next to him.

"Let's lie down," he said. "We can just talk for now." It sounded reasonable, so I joined him in bed.

"I never knew you liked all this stuff," I said, motioning to the posters.

"When I was a teenager, I wanted to grow up to be Morissey," said Simon. "Still do, if we're being honest."

I laughed. "Was it hard for you? Growing up, being ... well, you know..."

"Was it hard for you?" he said.

I bit my lip. "Okay, good point. But you seem so much more, you know ... sure."