Chapter 1

Somewhere in the hour-long shuffle toward cruise terminal security, someone ran a suitcase over my foot. The bad one. Then at the counter, a suitcase dropped on my foot. The bad one. As the day wore on, I discovered that my bright idea of wearing the new comfortable shoes, was a stupid one; they grew less and less comfortable as the hours passed. By the time we boarded the ship, five hours after leaving the house, I could barely hobble. The shoes came off, and I am now one of those elderly men you see wearing socks with sandals. It has come to this.

Roger and I are barely speaking. I wish we hadn’t decided to continue to travel together this one last time; we were one of the first gay couples to get married, and also one of the first to get divorced. But we had already paid for this cruise, so we agreed (We must have been drunk) to travel together. Weren’t we still friends at least? Oh hell no, not really, but we had found ways to cope, mostly, with each other’s less-endearing ways.

And it was New Year’s, a time for new beginnings and a good time for endings, as well.

Roger’s new boyfriend, who was thoroughly pissed at him for doing this, was into this latest scented oil for health craze, and the stuff he made Roger bring with him made my stomach lurch. So, of course, he dabbed it on himself every chance he got. He said it brought him peace and reminded him of Bart.

Dear beloved Bart, at thirty, was half Roger’s age. He even had hair! Blonde, dyed—I even know what brand of dye, but I can’t think of it right now. And the blue eyes were contacts. Body by gym machine. Income by…well, next up: Roger. And other than money, what could he see in Roger? I knew better of course; I knew dear Roger’s finances as well as I did my own. It had taken long enough and cost us enough in legal fees to separate them, after all.

I glanced at Roger out of the corner of my eye. I was so upset with him I could barely speak, but in those cases I usually became so sweet and sugary that anyone around me got an upset stomach and gained four pounds. Aren’t I evil?

We had just entered our cabin. I had paid for a large veranda suite with two rooms; at least, I had paid Roger to get one of those, but here we were, on the same deck but with only one small room and a tiny balcony. The room was barely big enough for the queen-sized bed in the middle. One queen—if that queen was Roger, would I get the floor? Well maybe Roger would get lucky and end up sleeping in the crew’s quarters. It was against the rules, but it happened. Especially, if they thought he had money. And Roger loved foreign boys. Oh, did he ever.

Our room steward looked from one to the other of us. “The couch opens out into a bed, kind sirs, should the brother not want to share a bed anymore with his brother.” He nodded like he’d grown up with six or seven brothers and felt that way himself.

I smirked politely, nodded, and said thank you.

After the steward left to get more sheets, Roger growled. “Let’s go eat. I’m famished. Should the brother not want to eat with his brother…” and we both laughed. Not totally sincerely, but close enough for now.

Just as I opened the door, a small boy ran past, hissing, “Wait for me! Come back!” and looking down the corridor I saw a black and white cat running full speed ahead. Hearing the commotion, someone opened their door at the end of the hall. There was a corner there, so it was a straight shot into the cabin for the cat, which ran right between the man’s naked legs. My eyes, of course, ran up from shins to knees to thighs…before the door slammed shut. The boy ran headfirst into it and bounced back onto the floor, where he laid back and cried.

I rushed over to him to comfort him and see if he was okay. Behind me, however, Roger roared with laughter. “Dude!” he cried. “That was awesome! And here comes Auntie Lame to tend to you.” To me he added, “You’re such a mommy. Go do your thing. I’m going up to the Lido for breakfast. See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya.”

My name is Lane, but Roger has always had so much fun changing my name, sometimes Auntie Flame, Auntie Shame, whatever…but it didn’t used to be in cruelty, just in fun. Now it’s just plain meanness.