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

“What about the denturelier?” I ask.


“I moved it to the entryway.” Kerrick beams. “I had it refitted as a fountain.”


“The water is blue, so it seems like the mouths of several Osmonds are rinsing and spitting,” Potsy adds.


“If there’s anything you need, please call Isaac,” I offer.


“I’m on the lookout for a real electric chair.”


“We don’t work with penitentiaries, so the chances are slim.” I chuckle, imagining how Isaac would react. But I’m proud of Kerrick. His waitstaff might arrive looking like they just wriggled out of Comic-Con and he really could use a little less reverence for the films of John Waters but he is, unapologetically, what he is.


Chapter 94