The mid-40s are that time in a gay man's life when his major paradigm shifts from sexy to Sansabelts. But when Barry Grooms's partner of twenty years is killed on Barry's forty-fifth birthday, his world doesn't so much evolve as it does explode.<br><br>After navigating through the surreal conveyor belt of friends and family, he can't eat another casserole or swallow much more advice on what constitutes grief. Still numb, he leaves his homestore and design business in the care of others as he escapes to Key West, then New York. There he gets a thankless new job working for a crazy lady in a poncho, then has too many drinks with a narcissistic Broadway actor. Next it's a nude exercise class that redefines flop sweat, and from there he's on to a relationship with a man twenty years his junior.<br><br>Yet no matter how great the retreat from the man he used to be, life's gravity spins Barry back to the small town where he grew up for one more ironic twist that teaches him how to say goodbye with grace.

The Cool Part of His Pillow

“You forget about your Grandma?” Mom asks immediately. I admit yes and I put my head on her shoulder to demonstrate how sorry I am. I touch her synthetic hair, which feels like a blend of lint and rubber bands.


She pulls away. “Leave it to you. It look phony?”


I pretend tucking something behind her neck. “Not after I hide the care tag.”


“Funny boy. I didn’t have time for the salon. I had a one-hour fifteen-hundred-dollar flight to catch.”


“The airlines suck. Olivia and Teddy’s were worse yet.”


My sister Olivia is two years my senior. She’s windblown on the calmest days and does not—cannot—think in a linear way. She’s a little like Stevie Nicks. With the layered lace, shawls, and cameos, it takes Olivia an eternity to get ready and present herself. Godot will show up faster. At least her marriage to Ted, about the sturdiest man I have ever known, put a splint on a lot of her insecurities.


“I’ll reimburse you all,” I promise.


Chapter 13