Page 79 of The Photograph

“Oh yeah!” Dimitri shouts, turning on his heels and waving his hands in the air, mincing up the corridor. His ass wobbles in a pair of extremely tight shorts. Does this guy wear anything else? “Another one in the tribe!” he sings, and Des laughs.

“Shhh, Dimitri,” he says.

But Dimitri carries on: “Hallelujah to that! Gentlemen, this calls for a celebration!”

And for the first time today, I laugh. “You guys are nuts.”

Des grins at me. “Yes, they really are.”

Dimitri swings around and points a finger. “Don’t pretend you’re not crazy, too, Desmond.”

Steve says, “Well, if we’re having a celebration, then I’d better go and buy some champagne.” He disappears back into the apartment.

“Get loads, and some nibbles,” George shouts after him, grabbing my hand. “Come on, Alex, we’ll ice that cheek and you can tell me the whole story.”

Steve reappears again, wallet in hand. “Wait until I get back, I want to hear this story, too.” He leans into me as he passes and kisses my cheek. “Lovely to see you again, Alex.”

One of the other guys holds his hand out when I reach the doorway. “I’m Alan, by the way, since none of these assholes were going to introduce me.”

Des laughs, and as George drags me into the apartment, he snags my hand and squeezes. All I can do is make wide eyes at him.

Not long after 2 a.m., they all reel out of Des’s place, and we both start gathering up glasses. And I’m warm inside with the realization that it’s in both our instincts to tidy up before we go to bed. His sister Marla arrived back at about midnight, sporting a T-shirt with some fighter logo and two people’s names on it and gossiped nonstop about her MMA boyfriend then disappeared into her room. Mitzi putters about sniffing ateverything. It’s been a blast this evening, and if you’d said earlier tonight that my day would end like this, I would have laughed in your face. After sharing the whole sorry tale of what happened at home, and then hearing all their stories, I feel like I’ve been washed clean of this whole night.

Dimitri’s Greek Orthodox parents threw him out at sixteen when he told them he was gay, and then turned up with a priest at a friend’s apartment where he was staying to “exorcise his demons.” They are only just on speaking terms with him eight years later. Dimitri solemnly informed me that’s why the gay community was so strong: It had to stand in for all the families that behaved like assholes.

Any time he sat down with me, Des held my hand, and something about the strong solid presence of him helped me tell everyone what happened. But he’s been muttering about Dad and Nana and how it must have been deliberate ever since I told him what she said.

“Why would she say that? I’m so pissed at her,” he says for about the fifteenth time tonight as I load the dishwasher. “Ruth’s in the doghouse as far as I’m concerned. Someone as sharp as your grandma must have understood exactly what she was doing.”

“Yes, I don’t think I’m going to forgive her any time soon,” I reply, waving some leftover chips in a bowl at him, and he points to a drawer which I find is full of Ziplock bags.He keeps leftover chips?He reallyisthe perfect man.

“You’re her favorite grandson, aren’t you? Very involved in her life? Walk her dogs, the whole shebang?”

“Yeah, I always thought so. Why did she say what she did? She’s never dropped me in it like that. Just the opposite actually.”

Des washes a few glasses and puts them on the counter to drain.

“Can I stay here for a bit? I don’t know what I’m going to do …” I trail off. It’s the only conversation we haven’t had tonight.

Des waves his hand. “Stay as long as you like. You know I wanted you to move in anyway.” He winks at me. “You’ll have to share my bed, though, and I can’t promise you won’t be molested. Also, I need to warn you that my sister’s a terror.”

Blushing, I stack some plates in the dishwasher. “Fine by me,” I say.

Later we lie in bed, oddly both on our backs beside each other with our hands behind our heads, only our elbows touching. Heat radiates from where Des is stretched out, but somehow sex strikes me as inappropriate right now.

Des rolls onto his side and tucks his hand under his temple, looking at me, and I turn my head on the pillow. His face is a shadowy outline, light seeping in from the streets and buildings around us. Despite the middle-of-the-night quietness, Manhattan suddenly feels so vibrant, so full of people of every background, race, and orientation.

“It’s a big thing, coming out to your family. Just hearing Dimitri’s fiasco made me realize how lucky I’ve been. I’m sorry your dad reacted the way he did.”

“You haven’t heard Dimitri’s story before?”

Des shakes his head.

“I could have planned it better. Nana kind of forced my hand,” I say on a long sigh. “I’m still surprised he hit me. I didn’t see that coming.”

Des runs a finger down the sheet at my side. “I’m mad as hell, Alex. It’s all my fault.”

“Your fault?” I say incredulously. “No way, Des. My father’s an asshole.”

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