The Temporary Husband

I wonder if I can disappear between the mashed potatoes and the napkins.

 “That reminds me, Izzy. A friend of mine was telling me about this hot- is that how you guys call each other?- bachelor who just bought the house across from hers.”

 Actually no.

My family would somehow find a way to drag me into their conversations.

 “What? No! He already promised to go on a date with Earl this week.” My third older brother, Seth, says, his tone offended that my fourth older brother, Freddy, would hook me up with someone before he did.

 “Earl? Isn’t he like two times divorced, from women?” Freddy doesn’t do much to hide the disgust in his voice.

 “Yeah, apparently people can grow a new sexuality in their forties, and if he’s married twice it means he can do it, unlike our brother here.” He laughs, and so does every other person on the table.

 Nobody corrects him that you can’t grow a sexuality.

Nobody says anything about how offensive it was to say, I can’t do it.

Nobody points out the fact that I am not finding this joke funny.

 Taking a bite of the mashed potatoes, letting it push down the words that remain stuck in my throat.

The joke branches out to a new joke at my sexuality. I expect ten more of those before they carved the turkey.

 And it’s not even Thanksgiving.

It’s just a Valentine family tradition.

Bring your spouse, seat at the very large table, dissect the reason Isaac is permanently single, laugh about it, hook him up with any man that crosses your path, because you’re a supportive big brother who can handle the “new sexualities.”

 Every last Saturday of the month.

“Oh, our guest is here.” My mother says with a pleased smile, gesturing to Jerry, her assistant, whom she also tried to hook me up with, he is at least twenty years older than I am, to let the guest in.

 The guest, a small man with a lot of facial hair and a mousy smile, walks in, his eyes bouncing off the large diner table, and lands on me.

 Oh hell no.

“Izzy, I want you to meet Barnabas, he’s the son of Matthew’s consulting, we talked about him.”

 We did not.

Everyone says hi to Barnabas except me.

I am flushed with embarrassment and anger.

 “He’s one of the good gays.” My father says with a hearty chuckle,

Bile rises up in my throat.

What the hell does good gay even mean?? What’s the opposite of that, bad gay? How does one even categorize that?

 “A pleasure to meet you.” Barnabas says with what I assume is a shy smile, the too much facial hair is making it difficult for me to tell.

 Looking up at my family, all four of my older brothers, their wives and kids, my parents, all of them had matching expressions.

 Eager.

Too eager.

Every brother had a seat next to him, and it was occupied.

For the longest time they wanted their table to be complete, so they could send a picture to our cousins, whose families were complete.

 Each and every one of them knew someone who was gay, looked gay, talked gay, and no one ever seemed to care that gay people also had a type.

 Mine was for every single person to leave me alone.

“I need to use the bathroom.” I squeak, rushing out of there.

The hallway has too many pictures of our ancestors, all of their eyes seemed to follow me, asking why I was still single.

  Every Valentine man wedded at age twenty three.

I should be too, being five years too late.

 “Are you okay?” Serene, Freddy’s wife asks, hoisting their daughter higher on her hips.

“Yeah, just needed some fresh air.”

She nods, brows furrowed.

“I know what you mean, he seems way too old.”

That was the least of the issues, but still an issue, so I nod, waiting for her to head back inside, but she doesn’t.

 “I met the guy Freddy was talking about, he’s nice enough, he has money too, obviously not a problem for the Valentine’s, still, nobody wants their first date at Arby’s. He is perfect.”

 God.

Do these people see me as unlovable??

 “Is this man even… into men?”

She looks stunned at the thought that the supposedly perfect man wouldn’t be interested in men.

 “I don’t… from what Freddy says, he wouldn’t really mind, would he? Is there really a difference? Since you’re the bott…”

 Her daughter, thankfully starts to cry, demanding her attention and saving me from the most embarrassing conversation I have ever had. I would buy her the most expensive toys in the world for saving me.

 She was really saying I was no different from a woman.

My chest feels stuffy again.

 I have to get out of here.

Unfortunately, the deal was to stay until after the turkey was carved. Or I would have to, like my brothers, join the Valentine family business.

 Since I can’t leave here yet, I leave the conversation and the fresh air that I so desperately needed.

 Back inside, Barnabas looks up, eyes way too eager for me, when I walk in.

Keeping my eyes away from him, I slide into my seat, which is beside him. 

 He smells like a bad mix of perfume, it gives me a headache.

 My mother coos, the rest of the women join.

Serene returns, my niece, placated, maybe she did know I needed saving.

“Freddy honey, Izzy asked if the hot neighbor was gay like him, doesn’t that mean he’s interested?”

 Fuck.

I feel myself flush.

How the hell did she come up with that conclusion by herself?

 Barnabas beside me makes a small squeaky sound, but my family already moved on from him. He was the star, until they found someone else that would sit at my side permenently.

 “Really? That’s good news then! I think I have his number, Sarah already sent it to me…”

“Honey, you told me you and Sarah don’t have each other’s contacts, that’s why you communicate through me, remember?” Serene laughs,

 Everyone at the table holds their breath, including the kids.

Freddy chuckles,

 “Yeah, we had to exchange contacts so they could meet, what was his name again?” He clears his throat awkwardly.

 Serene beams at her husband,

“Ryan Betterman.”

Everyone exhales, crisis averted.

And back to poor Izzy.

 “So, we think Ryan is a player, he plays some kind of sport professionally.” Serene supplies, getting into her seat now that she’s certain their daughter wouldn’t be crying any more.

 “Since he can afford a house in Sarah’s neighborhood, I would say he’s high up there with LeBron.” Seth says with a hearty chuckle.

 “I hope he has a separate locker room, or it would be weird for other players.” my own mother muses.

 The irony isn’t lost on me.

She has a gay child and she’s hoping another gay man is treated differently.

 “You don’t even know if he’s gay.” I grumble,

They all laugh,

 “He’s a manly man, maybe he’s one of those ones where they like the two genders?” Casper, the second elder brother says.

 My stomach twists on itself.

I ran track in school, I am a man, but it doesn’t matter to them.

Taking a sip of water, when I want something stronger, but can’t, so they don’t give me a reason I can’t drive back home.

 “What did I tell you? There are more than two genders now.” Freddy scolds, but the teasing twinkle doesn’t leave his eyes.

Tuning them out I focus on counting to fifteen instead.

“Izzy?” Thelma, Seth’s wife, calls my attention.

“Hm?”

“We were making a list, in case Ryan isn’t… all that, we want to confirm your schedule is free this week.”

 Seth snorts,

“I told you, his schedule is free, when you work for yourself, that tends to happen.”

I swallow every retort that comes to mind.

“Great, so Monday, a date with Ryan. Tuesday…”

“Earl!”

“Earl is old!”

“But I heard his ex wives say he’s loaded down there, Izzy might like that.”

They all turn to me.

My words are backed up in my throat, none of them willing to come out.

Too many eyes, too much attention.

 I end up snatching a glass of something, tipping it down my throat, it burns.

They snicker, taking my silence as agreement.

 “Tuesday, Earl…”

Maybe the alcohol loosened my tongue, because when they get to Saturday, I blurt, for no reason whatsoever, the lie rolls off my tongue.

 “I’m getting married. I found a husband.”