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

The mover with the Danish accent and impressive forearms was awaiting my return. “Your measurements were bad.”


My King Stickley headboard and bed frame barely fit wall to wall. Leaving it behind had not been, however, an option; I mean, I brought our old pillows. There was also no room for the footboard, leaning against the end of the mattress. I apologize for my miscalculation.


“I guess that will have to stay there,” I said, gulping. “It’ll be kind of a handicapped access ramp in and out of my bed.”


“I guess.” Dane Forearms took a wary step back, like I exclusively sleep with paraplegics. If that was flirting, I needed a tutor, and quick.


So I am moved in but I can’t move. At least the ceilings are high. Maybe I’ll hang a porch swing since there’s not room for my three-cushion sofa.


Chapter 53