“Notthiskind of old people,” he says, eyes wide, aghast. “The four of us are the only ones to have the self-worth to put on under-eye concealer this morning before going out in public.”
Barry sidles up next to us.
“They don’t need it,” he says. “They have BluBlocker sunglasses to cover their entire faces.”
Teddy laughs.
“Just be nice,” I say. “I mean, look at Sid.”
Sid is assisting an elderly couple with canes up the steps.
“You and Sid have this yearning desire to be liked by people you don’t even know,” I say. “It’s sadder than listening to ‘Alone Again (Naturally)’ on repeat.”
I feel a pang in my gut. That verbal spear hit an emotional organ.
“That was really hurtful, Teddy,” I say.
“No, Ron,thisis really painful,” Teddy counters, gesturing dramatically around the bus.
“Just so we’re clear, I thought this would be a wonderful bonding experience with my three best friends,” I say, trying not to sound like a child who got his feelings wounded by a bully. “As a board member for Modernism Week, I thought we could see through fresh eyes what we all take for granted every day.” I gesture around the bus at the tourists and then at the palm trees glistening before the mountains. “We chose to live here for a reason. Look at all of these people wanting just a piece—a moment—of what we have. I thought it would be good for us to spend some time together other than two hours—hungover, mind you—on Sundays. We’re barely together anymore except for the shows. And this is good for my business, too. Believe me, we still need the money.”
Teddy and Barry look at their feet. This spear struck an organ, too.
“And I kind of wanted you all to see me in my element,” I continue. “I see your talent on display, Barry, in our shows. I seeyour talent on display, Teddy, in your shop. I watch Sid bring financial clarity and security to older couple’s lives through the work he does as well as the joy he brings to children through his volunteer work at the library. But you never get to see my design work. You never get to experience my expertise on what makes this city so special.” I wait until they look into my eyes. “You only see me in the kitchen, or cleaning the house, or complaining about the tasks you refuse to do.” My breath hitches in my throat, but I push on. “You don’t see me much of the time.”
“Like that woman with the zinc oxide?” Teddy asks.
“See what I mean?”
Teddy puts his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll try.” I raise a brow at him. “I promise.”
A younger gay couple appears wearing matching eyelet shirts showing off perfect bodies.
“I got them!” Barry says, rushing the couple. He slides between them. “Right this way, gents.”
A cacophony echoes up the stairs of the bus. Teddy and I glance down, and averylarge bachelorette party—all wearing crowns and sashes—are boarding. They sound like grackles.
“Good morning, ladies!” I call. “This kind man will assist you to your seats.”
“Ah, hell no,” Teddy says.
“You were just asking for a bachelorette party,” I say. “Your wish came true.”
I push Teddy toward the stairs. The women screech when they see him and surround Teddy. When they part, he is sporting a penis crown.
“How sweet,” Barry says. “They know a real dick when they see one.”
Teddy touches his crown. “One of the sweeter gifts I’ve ever received, actually,” he says.
“Picture!” the bride screams. “We gotta get a picture!”
She doesn’t addwith the gay guy!, but that is abundantly implied. She will likely show this photo to the gals in marketingon Monday when she’s back in the office, probably at lunch, with her voice husky and low as if posing with Teddy was the craziest thing in the world she might ever do.
And it just might be.
She is cute in a “I was just named Corn Queen!” sort of way, but I can tell she believes she is light-years ahead of her bridal party in terms of looks.
“Gretchen, you take the photo!” the bride continues. “You’re always so good.”
