No one queer, wasn’t that what Joey said? And now I date guys who look like him instead.
* * * *
At the hospital, Joey leads me to the elevators and when the door opens, we’re surprised to find our father already in the lift as if waiting for us. “Hey Dad,” Joey says, stepping into the elevator to take the tray that trembles slightly in my father’s hands. The food on the tray looks unappetizing, at best—a combination of hospital andcafeteria food, the worst of both worlds. As the door closes behind us, Joey nods at the panel. “Fourth floor, Brian.”
That button isn’t lit. When I lean against it, I tease my father, “Where were yougoing?”
“Where have you been?” he replies.