He puts the address in his GPS, and drives on auto-pilot, not sure of what he will do once he gets there, sure only that he has to go, has to see whether this is real, whether he truly does want this thing that he is about to blow his life up for.
The bar is dark, and quiet. A few men sit or stand by the bar, a handful of others are grouped around a pool table. Music plays, and Daniel walks to the bar, sits down to stop his legs shaking, and immerses himself in the bar menu to avoid making eye contact.
“Hi there.” He looks up into the face of a friendly barman. “Hot out there today, huh?”
Daniel smiles. “I’ve been in an air-conditioned car all afternoon so it hasn’t been so bad.”
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a Sam Adams.”
“Coming right up.”
He takes a sip and turns three-quarters on his stool, noticing that in the shadows of the room there is more activity. A couple stand against the wall, making out roughly, before walking through a doorway at the back.
Daniel watches, can’t tear his eyes away, his heart pounding with fear. And excitement.
“Wanna play?” A young, dark-haired man catches his eye and offers a pool cue, and Daniel shrugs.
“I’m not much of a pool player,” he says.
“Me neither,” says the man with a grin, sitting down on the stool next to Daniel. “I’m Mike.”
“Daniel.” They shake hands, and Mike orders a drink. He isn’t fey, or feminine, or butch. He doesn’t have leather chaps, or pierced ears, or a limp handshake. He is a regular guy, jeans and a T-shirt, a friendly smile, short back and sides. He looks exactly like every other guy Daniel knows, and finally he starts to relax.
“So . . .” Daniel says awkwardly. “Are you . . . a regular?”
“You mean, do I come here often?” Mike laughs. “I guess. I live near and, let’s face it, there aren’t exactly dozens of gay bars around here. I haven’t seen you before. Are you here on business?”
“Not exactly. I’ve known about this place for years but I’ve never . . . I just haven’t gotten around to checking it out.”
Mike takes a swig of his beer then smiles. “Married, right?”
Daniel looks down guiltily at his finger. He thought he had taken the ring off. He had.
“I can always tell,” Mike says. “You have the look. Married, with kids I’d say, and very unfamiliar with this.”
“You’re good,” Daniel says eventually with a shrug. “That’s exactly right.”
“We get a lot of marrieds in here,” Mike says. “Usually this is their secret life, the wives have no idea that they’re into men, but I don’t think that’s the case with you.”
“My wife has no idea I’m . . . into men.” The words sound so unfamiliar tripping off his tongue.
“But you look tortured. You want to tell her, right?”
“What are you?” Daniel is amazed. “A psychiatrist or a mind reader?”
“I can be anything you want me to be,” Mike says with a raised eyebrow, and Daniel suddenly realizes that he is flirting with him, and that this might not be as safe as he had assumed.
As Daniel leaves the bar, his mind is lost in thought. Once he’d understood that the flirting was harmless fun, he opened up to Mike, made a second confession, and each time he tells his story, says the words “I’m gay,” it feels more and more natural, more and more right.
“Wanna go into the back room?” Mike had said, after they had been talking for an hour, and Daniel had hesitated. He had wanted to, more than anything in the world, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be unfaithful to Bee, couldn’t do this to her, nor to himself. It was bad enough that he was unfaithful in his mind. The physical act would be too overwhelming for him right now.
It had taken every ounce of strength he had to say no.
Even now, as he walks to his car, he is tempted, over and over, to turn around, walk back in, allow Mike to take his hand and lead him into the back room.
He makes it to the car, and makes it to the highway, and even though he fights the urge to turn around at every single exit, he finally manages to make it home.
It just doesn’t feel like home anymore.
Lizzie and Stella are staying at a friend’s house, and Bee, who never has a night away from