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Authors: B.G. Thomas

Anything Could Happen

By
B.G. T
HOMAS

N
OVELS

All Alone in a Sea of Romance

The Boy Who Came In From the Cold

Anything Could Happen

N
OVELLAS

All Snug

Bianca’s Plan

Christmas Cole

Christmas Wish

Desert Crossing

How Could Love Be Wrong?

It Had to Be You

Soul of the Mummy

Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SW
Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Anything Could Happen

Copyright © 2013 by B.G. Thomas

Cover Art by Aaron Anderson

[email protected]

Cover content is being used for illustrative purposes only
and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

ISBN: 978-1-62798-026-5

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-027-2

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

September 2013

Passages from the play
Tearoom Tango
© Douglas Holtz, 2008. All rights reserved.

Used with permission of Douglas Holtz.

The quote from
Torch Song Trilogy
© 1998.

Used by permission of Harvey Fierstein. Thank you, Harvey!

Lyrics to
Superphallicrealisticdoubleendeddildo
© Amos Joseph Bullock, 1996. All rights reserved.

Used with permission of Amos Joseph Bullock.

This is for

Joanne “Jo” Papin

Jan 27, 1958 – July 10, 2013

She was one of the first people I ever told I was gay

She loved me

She was proud of my success

She always took my calls, no matter how late

And she was a voice in the dark….

Jo, I will miss you forever

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

 

Special thanks to Cynthia Levin, Producing Artistic Director of the Unicorn Theatre, for the tour and a hundred and one answered questions. What a delightful woman. Any mistakes about the stage and theater made herein are mine and not hers.

Also, thanks to my dear actor friends Curtis Smith and Paul Burns, as well as a host of actors, directors, producers, and more who were there every step of the way.

And of course to my selfless editors Sal Davis, Chris Miles, Rowan Speedwell, Kat Weller, and of course Andi Byassee—I don’t know what I would do without you!

“If life is just a stage, then we are all running around ad-libbing, with absolutely no clue what the plot is. Maybe that’s why we don’t know whether it’s a comedy or tragedy.”

~ Bill Watterson

“Where were you, Katmandu or something?”

~ Sam Shepard—Fool for Love

 

ACT
ONE

 

 

 

A
USTIN
S
HELBOURNE
knew the minute he walked through his great-uncle Boden’s door that the old man was gay. There was no mistaking it—the most naïve person in the world would have figured it out. A mannequin would have seen it. It wasn’t so much the man. Uncle Boden was a rather nondescript older gentleman: probably in his late seventies/early eighties, balding, slim, blue-gray eyes, slightly stooped, and wearing gray slacks and a frayed brown sweater. Nothing obvious; no gay pride T-shirt.

No. It was the apartment that said it all. With the three-foot-tall, gold spray-painted statue of David just inside the doorway, the print of a nude young man on the beach on one wall, the fringe on the lampshades, and the scarlet Chinese pillows—not to mention the yapping red Pomeranian—the old man might as well have screamed, “I’m a homosexual!”

Gay? Uncle Boden, gay?
Austin found all his anxiety and worries about his 200-plus-mile move to Kansas City were submerged under a wave of complete surprise.

“It is so good to see you, my boy,” cried Uncle Boden over the equally exuberant greetings of his little dog. “Lucille! Stop that! You’ve done your job. Be a good girl now and hush.” The dog stopped—mostly—and sat at her master’s feet, looking up with adoring brown eyes and only one or two barks.

“Ah…. Good to see you too, Uncle Boden.”

Leading Austin to a threadbare couch, Uncle Boden said, “Sit. Please. You must be exhausted.”

“Not too bad,” Austin replied, but took the offer of the couch. A small sculpture of two men wrestling, one actually clutching the cock and balls of the other, sat on the coffee table. He tried not to react.

Uncle Boden smiled and sat down next to him, and Lucille jumped up between them. “I am so honored you agreed to come stay with me for a while, my boy. My God, you’ve grown. Has it been… ten years?”

Austin thought about it a moment. Ten years might be right. He hadn’t seen his uncle since at least fourth grade. “It was the big family reunion,” he answered. He remembered a sad man, and yes, he remembered the dog.

“Yes. Yes, it was ten years. I was still driving then. They won’t let me now, the bastards. I miss driving. Now I have to depend on the kindness of a couple of the tenants when I need to get around. Shopping. Groceries.”

“Well, you have me now,” Austin said.

“For a while at least, yes?” Uncle Boden petted his little dog, who immediately climbed into his lap for more intimacy. “I am sure living with an old man will soon cramp your style. You’re on your own for the first time. You’ll want to sow your wild oats. You won’t want to worry about me. Or try to explain me.”

“Explain?”

His uncle rolled his eyes. Spread his arms and waved to indicate the room. The painting of The Blue Boy on one wall, the small statue of a nude young man examining the bottom of his foot on the end table next to the couch.

Austin blushed. Uncle Boden was addressing the elephant in the room. Austin shook his head. It was all so weird. The last thing he’d expected was to arrive at his uncle Boden’s and find out the old man was gay.

Like me
.

Austin turned to his uncle, a hundred questions in his mind. Gay. His great-uncle Boden was gay. He didn’t know what to say. “You’re gay!” he blurted and clamped a hand over this mouth.

His uncle’s eyebrows popped up. “You’re surprised? I figured everyone in Buckman talked about ‘bachelor’ Bodie.”

“No,” Austin said. “I mean, Gram and Gramps call you a bachelor, but—”

“My dear boy.” His uncle chuckled. “That’s old-people speak for ‘queer.’”

“Oh,” Austin said.
It was?

“What gave me away? Was it perhaps Hercules and Diomedes there?” He pointed at the wrestling statue. “They’ve got quite a grip on each other, heh?”

Austin felt his cheeks heat up even more but didn’t say anything. What was there
to
say?

“Can you imagine something like that in today’s wrestling? I would be addicted to such television antics. I might even go back to college and see if they’d let an old man join the team.”

Austin burst into laughter, then slapped a hand over his mouth once again.

“What? Am I embarrassing you?”

“I-I don’t know… I wasn’t expecting…. This is all such a surprise. And you’re so, ah—”

“Old?” Uncle Boden asked. “You didn’t think homosexuality was anything new, did you? I dare say Cain and Abel kept each other warm on a cold night. Brothers do, you know. And there were no girls. Maybe that’s the real reason Cain killed his brother. Maybe Abel was holding out—being a cocktease.”

Austin’s mouth fell open, and he quickly closed it. Was this really happening? “I was going to say ‘you’re so open,’” he said.

“Oh.” Uncle Boden rolled his eyes once more. “Sorry. It’s just so nice to have someone here I
can
talk to.” He looked at Austin for a moment, as if waiting for a reply. “Austin. My sister sent you to me for a reason. She said you had a mission. All fired up to move to Kansas City to look for some friend of yours. And considering my ‘disposition,’ she hoped I might be a good influence on you.”

Austin nodded. Gram had said something similar to him. Originally, it had been his plan to save up enough money to get his own apartment¸ but it had been her idea he stay with her brother instead. “Just until you get on your feet,” she’d advised. “You’d do him a world of good as well. You’re so handy, and you might be able to fix some things around the building. He’s the manager, you know. Plus, all his friends are gone. He needs the company. And you’ll have so much to talk about—you have a lot in common.”

We do?
Austin had wondered that day. What would he and an old man have to talk about?

And then, sitting on Uncle Bodie’s couch, the light bulb went on.

Oh my God.

Gay
.

Gram knows I’m gay
.

How? How had she figured it out? He hadn’t really known himself until a month ago.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been figuring it out. He’d known. But not
known
-known. Not for totally 100 percent certain known.

“Are you all right, Austin?” Uncle Boden asked. “You have the strangest look.”

He turned to his uncle.
Tell him. Just tell him
.

But he couldn’t. It was like his tongue had frozen up or died or something.

“Sherry?”

For a second, Austin thought his uncle was talking to the dog. But wasn’t her name Lucille? “Sorry?”

“I thought I would pour us a little sherry.”

“Oh. Sure,” Austin replied as his uncle stood up. But before he could leave the room…

“I’m gay.” God—there it was. He’d said it. Said it out loud.

My God. I said it out loud
.

And just like that, he felt a huge surge in his chest. Felt something enormous and infinitely heavy lift off his shoulders. And this tingling. This wonderful tingling all over his body. It felt amazing.

“First time?” Uncle Boden asked. “Saying it?”

Austin gave a nod. “Pretty much.”

“Let me get that sherry.” He shuffled out of the room in well-worn brown slippers.

Austin ran his fingers through the dark-brown hair hanging on either side of his face, then chewed absently on the tip of his thumb.
Gay. My uncle is gay
.

Just like me
.

A moment later, Uncle Boden was back with a tray holding two tulip-shaped wine glasses filled halfway with a honey-colored liquid, as well as a cut-glass decanter. He handed Austin one of the glasses.

“Thanks,” Austin said and took a swallow of what turned out to be an overly sweet drink, almost coughed.

“Sip! Sip, my boy. Let it lie across your tongue—absorb it.”

Embarrassed, Austin nodded and put his glass down on the coffee table.

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