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

“So see? We weren’t allbad.” He looks wounded. “We weren’t allevangelicals.”


He’s a little bit right. They didn’t quite understand my particular loss. So what? Maybe Olivia isn’t the only one who overreacts.


Shorty slurps again. “Yuck. This has gone flat.”


He bounces back his chair. I stop him and offer to buy something else.


“Refills are free. Here’s my cup. Over there.” He points.


I also take his tray. On one napkin is a mostly complete drawing of a flower. It’s in blue ink, quite intricate, yet delicate. Before I can comment, he offers, “I was a botanical illustrator by trade. I worked for a seed company, did some work for textbooks. A dead art, like saying ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’ Microscopic photography surpassed it and retired me, but practicing the fine lines keeps my mind sharp and my hands from calcifying, or so I hope.”


Chapter 106