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

Marjorie ushers me into a small office that we will share. A small sofa is slip-covered by what is surely a cape she grew tired of. The desk is the Audrey II of office furniture; white corners of paper protrude from its closed roll top, like it’s not quite finished digesting the monthly payables.


“This will be my walking-around money.”


She buttons her collar. “Take the steps of a geisha, then.”


She demands I always be reachable and that I must wear a beeper, which I assume means a pager. Are there Simba plush toy emergencies? I haven’t worn a pager since my first job at twenty-three.


I stare at her. “That will be fine.”


It’s almost too easy—a job my very first day. I hope Andy can see how spur-of-the-moment I’ve become, ramifications be damned.


“What I am not looking for is some wise guy to blow me shit about how I operate my business, Terry.”


“Barry Grooms is not looking to blow you any.” Notice how I worked my full name in to politely correct her.


Chapter 55