Rolling in dough
Truth
In the back of the car, Milo Affren, aged seventeen, was trying to do something with his shoulder length brown hair, make it look a little cooler, and he was telling his grandparents:
“I love you all—”
“And we love you too,” Barbara Affren said, reaching into her husband’s pocket for a stick of gum.
Because Bob was trying to drive, he growled: “Damnit, Barb, I’ve told you about that—”
“And,” Milo continued, “I think it’s cool that you have this religion thing and all.”
“He things it’s cool, Barb!” Bob crowed.
“Oh, that’s good. I can sleep in peace now,” she said in a sweet voice, winking back at her grandson.
“But, I don’t see why I should have to be dragged into it with you.”
“Quick Bob, get in the parking lot before Tina Deagler does. She always wants to take our spot. Quick, now!”
“I’m not going to break the traffic laws just because you’re too lazy to walk, Barb.”
“You’re a mean ole cuss. Isn’t he a mean ole cuss? Look what I gotta live with. Would you just see?”
“And,” Milo, continued, “I would just rather stay home on Sundays.”
His grandparents ignored him as Bob trawled about the parking lot of Saint Barbara’s, searching for the optimum space and, at last, settling in the third row beside the church.
“Bob, he wants to know why we make him go along to church with us,” Barb said. “I think you’d better answer him.”
“Well, one, your parents are godless heathens and I blame that on your mother. Your father’s weak. Jack always was easily influenced. You need some religion in your life, and that’s thing one.
“Thing two: you’re a good kid, Milo. You’re a lot like me when I was your age. Cept you’re better looking. But see, I was a hooligan—”
“I’m not a hooligan.”
“Of course you’re a hooligan! That’s why your parents sent you to us. Cause you’re a hooligan!”
“And hooligans don’t get to stay home on Sunday,” Barb said, reaching for her lipstick and smacking on a last dab.
“So the bottom line is,” Bob said, “You have to go to church because we have to go to church, and there’s no way in hell we’re going to leave you in the house alone.”
“Dena! Nell!”
“He always finds us,” Nell muttered as she stopped in the middle of her brisk march for the side door. Dena sighed and nodded. “No matter how crowded the church is.”
“I just wanted to introduce you all to a new member of our parish,” Dan Malloy told the two women as they approached the vestibule where he stood. They were relieved to see it was only the Affrens who were with him.
“Bob and Barb’s grandson will be finishing the year with us,” Dan said. “He’ll start tomorrow.”
“My name is Dena,” Dena said, pushing her hair back from her face.
“She’s a singer,” Dan said, “and she used to sing in the choir.”
Dena gave the priest a lopsided smile.
“Any chance you might come back?” Dan said.
Milo decided to save her by offering his hand and saying, “I’m Milo. I’m a hooligan.”
“Oh, Lord, Milo!” Barb blew a raspberry.
“Well, that’s what Grandad says.”
“And Grandad’s right,” Bob insisted. “You’re never too old to be turned over my knee, boy.”
Milo gave Dena a look and shook his head.
“Hey,” Nell said. “Dena’s seventeenth birthday party is coming up, and that would be a great way for you to get to know people. How about you come, Milo?”
“Uh…”
Barb swatted him on the back of the head.
“Say yes, and act like you have some manners.”
Milo said, “Yes.”
“IS THIS YOUR party list?” Todd asked, snatching it from his sister. He was leaning against the kitchen sink, ankles crossed, and swigging the last of a Mountain Dew.
“Yes, and that stuff will corrode your insides.”
“You’re set against Mountain Dew.”
“I’m set against pop. It doesn’t serve any purpose but to rot out your insides and clog your arteries with sugar.”
To demonstrate her rage, Nell beat the round wooden table with a towel in lieu of a gentle polish.
“I don’t know how much medical research you did for that, sis.”
Nell shrugged and set to buffing the table, violently spraying it with Pledge.
“This table is filthy!” she declared. “Dusty!”
“It’s a kitchen table. It will always need to be cleaned,” Todd said. Then, “Oh, what the fuck is this?”
Nell looked up at him and threw the towel over her shoulder.
“I don’t know, Todd. What the fuck is it?”
“You can’t invite him. You can’t have this guy at Dena’s party.”
Frustrated and not really needing to look, Nell said, “What guy?”
“This guy,” Todd said, impersonating a moron, and jabbing at the name.
“Uh… He’s Dena’s father. And he wants to come. And I think she wants him. She has every right.”
“But you can’t invite Kevin!”
“What?” Nell said, suddenly angry. “I can’t invite Kevin because it pisses you off? What about me, Todd? Don’t I have every right to be pissed off? Don’t I have ten times the right to be pissed off at him? And at you too?”
Todd put down the soda bottle.
“You’re right, Nell,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Nell shook her head and sat down, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t blame you. You should be mad. I really shouldn’t blame you. You were a kid. I was so mad because it was you, Todd.”
Todd said nothing. He put his hands together and lay against the kitchen sink.
“But,” Nell said after a while, “no matter how I felt then, I choose to get past it now. And for Dena’s sake, little brother, you’re going to have to do the same.”
Waiting for the light to turn, Paul asked Fenn: “Okay, so yes or no, do I look sexy?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
“An honest one,” Paul said. “If you answer it honestly.”
“Are you out to look sexy today?”
The intersection at the center of town was a red light where Birmingham crossed Dorr, and on every corner was a shopping center.
“I’m always out to look sexy. This is Midwest sexy.”
Paul was wearing a snug fitting black short sleeve and a straw cowboy hat. He as driving the Land Rover because Fenn didn’t like too. Todd was visiting his sister and someone needed to get the shopping done.
“You’re just missing the bit of grass you should be chewing.”
“Ah, damn!” Paul said pounding the steering wheel.
“You know, if you don’t get out of the car with it on, then yes, the cowboy hat does really top of the outfit.”
Paul shrugged. “I was just trying something out.”
“Well,” Fenn said, as the light turned green and they made a left for the grocery store.
“You already know what you look like. I mean, Guy hired you for a reason.”
“In porn they have all sorts of guys. In straight porn you’re not supposed to be paying attention to the guys. In gay porn it’s all different sorts. What they really like is a country fresh face with a country big dick.
“I have a theory that when you put on a cowboy hat it makes your dick look bigger. I have borne that out in past work.”
Fenn thought about that and then said, “You know what? I’m not sure why, but that just feels true.”
“Damn, no parking spaces!” Paul muttered.
“Do you need me to put a nude scene into the play?” said Fenn. “It could spice things up. What we’re going is going to be a little dull compared to what you’re used to.”
“Ah, there’s a space!” the Land Rover lurched forward, jerking Fenn, who caught the door handle.
“Are you kidding me?” Paul demanded, swinging into a spot and making an old man flip him a bird. “This is the shit I always wanted to do. This is real stuff that I can tell my family about.”
“Um, you really pissed that guy off.”
“I guess I should be sorry.”
“I never thought of you having a family,” Fenn confessed, climbing out of the black vehicle.
Paul started talking, loudly, at first, as he tucked in his black shirt and rounded the Land Rover.
“Mom was a little under the weather, but she’s better now. My aunt’s pregnant. Again. It’s like she opens her legs and babies just fall out. My cousin’s still in seminary. Get that.”
“What’s that like?”
“I have no idea. We don’t actually talk. And my brother and sister are still in high school, but Claire’s getting ready to graduate.”
“It’s a big family.”
“No bigger than yours. You should come to East Carmel sometime.”
“East Carmel?”
“Yeah, what’s wrong with that picture?”
“What’s right with it? White folks don’t know! You could wear that cowboy hat and chew on the grass and nobody would think anything of it there.”
“Are you trying to call us hillbillies?”
“Yes,” Fenn said. “My cousin Lee got arrested there once, just for being Black after sundown.”
“That’s not…” and then Paul said, “Actually, it probably is true.”
“I went to school in a small town where people just looked at you funny. Just like this?” Fenn gave Paul a stupid, vacant eyed look, “if you were brown.”
“Well,” Paul said, pulling off the cowboy hat as they entered the Martins, “that is because if you grow up in East Carmel the only Black people you ever see are on reruns of Sanford and Son and The Cosby Show. I’m pretty sure I gave the same dumb look the first time I saw a Black person. Or most people for that matter. We don’t get out much. No, really, come with me next time.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about that.”
“You’ll more than think about it,” Paul pushed a finger into Fenn’s sternum. “You’re gonna come. It’ll be nice.”
Fenn shrugged and shook out his legs leaning forward on the cart as he pushed it through the cold store. “Get that pasta over there. No, the generic one. Thanks. You know, that was a horrible parking space. You could have gotten a closer one.”
“I could not have.”
“So.”
“So what?”
“You and Noah?”
Paul shrugged. “What about me and Noah?”
“That’s what I’m asking. Are you all… together? I didn’t think you were. Ah, olive oil!”
“We’re not… not together,” Paul said. “I don’t know what it is.”
Fenn said nothing.
“It’s your fault.”
“How…? You like fish.”
“I’ll eat it, but I don’t want it. You see,” Paul said. “It’s your fault because that second night we were here… we heard you and Todd. And it just made us so hot, we thought… What the hell. And then, we already know each other. So… Ooooh, Doritos!”
“They’re not on the list.”
“I’m getting them anyway.”
“Well, then you’re paying for them.”
“You’re really serious about this whole not deviating from the list, aren’t you?”
“You keep deviating from the list and soon you’re broke.”
“But, Fenn… You’re not broke.”
“Well, for now, we’ve got to live like we are. And we’re going to keep living like that.”
Then Fenn said, “I like Noah.”
“I do too. I always did.”
“So are you dating?”
“No,” Paul said. “I just really like having sex with him. And he’s a nice guy. Does that sound sleazy? Sorry, I’m getting that French bread.”
Fenn shrugged. “Fair. Oooh, jelly donuts.”
“Yeah, I’ll get six.”
“Fuck it, get, two dozen. It’s four of us in the house now. By the way, I don’t think it’s sleazy. Just real.”
Paul sighed and leaned across the cart.
“This thing I’ve got with Noah… Sex on a regular basis with someone I like. Sleeping with someone. Waking up with someone you care about… I’ve never done that before.
“But I also know that’s its not being in love. Not what I think of. Not what I’d settle for. I dunno. I don’t want to settle for anything.”
“Lots of people have less than that going for them in a marriage, or a gay relationship for that matter.”
“I know that. But, I need more than that. And—ooh, fish fingers!”
“Put that away. Seriously.”
Paul sighed and turned from the fish fingers.
“You and Todd aren’t settling. You have… You have something I envy. I never envied anyone’s relationship. I want that. I want someone who will just… I don’t know, turn my life around. Do something to my world. Like in those movies.”
“Oh, Paul! I had no idea…” Fenn chuckled.
Paul looked at him.
“That you were a romantic!”
