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

Potsy and I leave Dee at Uniqlo in Soho and find a men’s clothing shop. Potsy holds up a clubwear shirt that would barely cover his ribcage. “Are we in the Gay Toddler section?”


“I think it’s the clothing for their dolls,” I say.


“We now know where Stan imports his clothes from.” Potsy refolds teeny jeans. “Did you see the rise on these? The fly is an inch long. Who can wear them? Eunuchs?”


Dee has found us and we veer off into a haberdashery. She insists Potsy needs a rakish chapeau now that he’s had Lasik. Watching him try on various hats as Dee sings “Smooth Operator,” I am startled to realize Potsy is notwearing glasses. He’d never mentioned to me that he was considering eye surgery.


I will soon discover this is not the only thing that hasn’t been mentioned to me.


We sip Andy’s sangria recipe, which they always begged for, on the rooftop terrace.


Chapter 66