Chapter 23

St. Louis, October 1973

"It's going to be a week-long festival but I'm only going for the weekend, don't want Edgar to be away from home too long," Hannah explained, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She was sitting on the floor, arguing that it was better for her posture, whatever that meant – just another of her quirks. "I thought it could be fun if you came too?"

Bobby frowned. He knew his sister too well, despite all the secrets she thought she could keep from him, and she'd never been subtle with her tells.

"You need me to drive you, don't you?"

She shrugged and hid her smile by taking a sip of burning tea, pulling back with a wince.

"You never do anything like it, camping or –"

"I go for hikes all the time, Hannah. You don't need to bullshit me. How far away is it?"

She twirled a lock of hair and wrinkled her nose.

"It's in Iowa."

"What! That's…"

"Five hours away, I know. That's why you should stay! Better than two round trips, right?" his sister raised her eyebrows at him, hopeful where Bobby was scowling. He didn't budge for a while, until Hannah added, lowering her voice: "Besides, you could bring Bill."

And that was the other side of the coin. She knew him well, too, and though they'd never spoken about his lack of girlfriend or wife, Bobby was fairly sure she understood enough.

"Don't need to drag him into this," he mumbled.

"You know it's gonna be a pretty eclectic meeting. Lots of people of different backgrounds, all very open-minded."

"Hannah."

She raised her free hand in defense.

"Okay, okay. Just saying. People sleeping in tents all across a pretty big field, nobody would bat an eye. Pretty sure most of them would be too stoned to notice anything anyway."

Bobby fell to his elbows with a sigh, hiding in his palms.

"Bill and I…"

He faltered. He didn't even know what he was going to say. It's not like that? It was. Only it wasn't in the sense that they didn't talk about it, and they didn't go on romantic vacations, and for the moment everything was perfectly fine the way it was.

"Wouldn't you rather we watch Edgar? Instead of taking him to an orgy?"

"Oh my god, Bobby please. It's not an orgy, everything happens between consenting adults and behind closed doors. Or tent flaps, whatever. They have an area with designated nannies who look after the kids if the parents want a break. There'll be so many cute workshops for the children, I bet he's gonna have a blast."

Bobby groaned low in his throat, as if that would fix anything. Damn woman knew what she was doing, and with her sneaky ways she'd managed to plant the idea in his head.

Going away. Walks in the woods, fields, wherever that festival took place. Sitting with Bill around a campfire, sharing sweets and maybe, just once, just to see, kissing under the moonlight…

"Fine," he groaned, "I'll ask him. But if he says no, you'll have to find another chauffeur."

He didn't elaborate on the fact that he wouldn't miss a weekend with Bill for her, not so early in their… whatever form of relationship they were going for. And Hannah didn't ask either.

A few days later, they stood in front of Bobby's house at the crack of dawn, loading bags into the trunk. Bill had arrived late the night before, just in time to have dinner with him, slip under the sheets and fall asleep in Bobby's arms. Fuck, he was getting used to this. Fuck, he was getting used to this.

Contrary to what he'd thought, it hadn't taken much to convince Bill. He'd stared into the distance for a bit, then shrugged with a simple ‘I suppose spending two days in nature can't hurt me.' Bobby had held back from pressing and asking if he was sure. He didn't know why he felt such wariness at the idea of his trip. Possibly he was just exhausted from work and never getting any rest on the weekends, either traveling to Memphis or taking Bill out to discover the area – or, when the weather didn't allow that, getting a good workout in bed instead.

They'd packed three tents, one for each adult, and Edgar would be sleeping with his mother. Hannah didn't bat an eye if she noticed their very separate sleeping bags.

In tacit agreement, Bill sat in the back with the boy. He must have sensed, or felt the same way, how difficult it was for Bobby to keep his hands to himself when all he wanted was really to leave a palm on Bill's thigh for the whole drive.

Thankfully, it wasn't as hot as in the heart of the summer, and they could even expect to wake up shivering in the mornings. As they set off, the air coming into the car from the rolled down windows was nice and cool. Bobby slipped a cassette into the tape slot and slow ballads came on. He prayed that he wouldn't be blushing too hard – this mix was a favorite of his, but for Bill and his alone time.

"So Bill," Hannah started as they'd barely left the city, twisted in her seat to face him, "you're not married, right?"

"Hannah," Bobby exclaimed.

She knew full well Bill was single, and had kids of his own. Bobby had told her that much when she noticed that the other man kept on visiting, and he'd given her the basic information you'd find on a resume, imploring her not to pester his friend. Bill, oddly meek today, politely answered:

"I was, actually."

"Ah, and you're divorced? Or a widower?"

"For fuck's sake," Bobby muttered under his breath.

"Just divorced. Twice, though."

"Never worked out, did it?"

Bobby tried to bat at his sister but she caught his hand, giggling, taking advantage of the fact that he had to keep his eyes on the road.

She went on like this, asking increasingly personal questions about Bill's ex wives, his children, why he'd married them in the first place and so on, until there wasn't much she didn't know about Helen and Margaret. Bobby kept his jaw clenched, sending a silent apology towards his lover and hoping that his sister hadn't crafted the whole trip in order to pry into their situation.

By the time they were crossing over into Iowa, even Bobby had learned some things about Bill's past. Things he'd always considered were the other man's to share. For example, the fact that he was already seeing Margaret when Helen asked for a separation. That she'd been his secretary for a year before she got pregnant and they hastily got married. All in all, the way Bill told the story felt as if he'd never had any agenda in what happened, well… to him.

He didn't choose to have children. He didn't choose his first wife – that had been arranged and strongly encouraged by the dean of the first hospital Bill worked at, the old man hinting that Bill would never be taken seriously unless he became a family man. Whatever that meant, Bobby hoped it wasn't what he thought. The stares he himself got until he started pretending to date Dorothy.

Bill hadn't even seemed to pick when he moved on from the hospital to the clinic, and it hurt something deep in Bobby's chest to hear him talk about his life as if all those things had happened to someone else. As if he'd barely been there.

They stopped for a quick breakfast and to stretch their legs in Mt Pleasant. As soon as Hannah excused herself to the toilet with Edgar, Bobby pulled Bill into a booth, barely withholding from taking his hand.

"I'm so sorry, she's…"

"It's alright, Bobby."

"It's not. She's being intrusive and you don't have to…"

His throat clicked and refused to utter the rest of his sentence. Bill reached out, and aborted his gesture when a waitress came by to take their order. When Hannah and Edgar came back, both men were sitting in silence, staring at a pot of coffee. His sister didn't seem fazed at all by the odd atmosphere she'd created, sliding in next to Bobby and grabbing the first waffle.

The second leg of their journey was quieter. Bobby hoped that he'd managed to glare at his sister enough that she'd gotten the message, this time. He kept on checking Bill's expression in the rear-view mirror, but the other man was his usual unreadable self, looking out the window with his hands in his lap. At least he wasn't hurting himself and making his hands bleed.

At some point, conversation became mandatory again, when they got off the main road and Bobby had to follow the directions that Hannah was pulling from a leaflet. He tried sneaking a glance at it to get more information on this mysterious festival, but she conveniently kept it angled away from him.

They zigzagged on thin meandering roads, going up and down hills until their path became encased in a little valley, following a modest river with the slopes on both sides covered in pine trees.

"We're almost there!" Hannah gleefully exclaimed when she instructed Bobby to take a rocky path to their right, that led them straying even further from civilization.

"I hope this festival of yours is worth it," he grumbled when one of the wheels dipped into a pothole.

"I'm sure it will be," Hannah frowned. "Right here!" she pointed at a new path dipping into the forest.

Bobby swerved off to follow it, hoping that they wouldn't get stuck and murdered there. Nobody would find their bodies before weeks.

Bobby forgot what he'd even meant to say as he slowed the car to a stop under a large white banner overhanging in between trees, loudly announcing the slogan ‘GAY POWER'.

He killed the engine, letting the silence weigh until he managed to pry his mouth open and turn to look at his sister.

"Hannah… what is this?"

She was looking out the window, doing a piss poor job of pretending to be lost in her thoughts.

"Hm?"

Anger rose too fast, and he slammed a hand on the steering wheel.

"Why are we here?!"

She faced him, guilt and shock painted in her eyes.

"I… It's the festival, like I told you…"

"Goddammit," he swore.

Then he realized just to what extent Hannah had fucked up.

Bill. Shit.

He nearly snapped his neck in his haste to look back, eyes roaming all over his lover to find a clue telling him how the other man felt. Finding none. Bill was staring at the same banner that had triggered Bobby's ire with wide eyes.

"Bill, I'm sorry, I swear I didn't know…"

Bobby closed his eyes and took one, slow deep breath. In and out. Just like before hopping in the ring, he remembered this. Except he wasn't going to punch anyone.

Instead, he cracked his wrists, and got out of the car. It was a nice place. Lodged inside a small valley, an evergreen forest on his left and stretching far ahead, tents, stands and banners scattered between the trees. People were already bustling about, and he could hear laughter, low and high.

He slammed his door and strode into the woods. A silhouette in heels slowed to stare at him, and Bobby vaguely heard a concerned voice ask him something, and ignored it. He needed to get away before he'd do or say something he might regret.

He walked long enough that he found a fallen tree, lost in a quiet corner of the woods. There, nobody would bother him. He let himself collapse on the bark, feeling the harsh surface digging into the back of his thighs.

Barely a minute later, another human form lowered themself down next to him.

"Fuck off, Hannah."

"Bobby, please…"

"I don't wanna talk to you," he insisted, frowning at a passing line of ants.

"Fine. Then maybe you can listen."

He sullenly kept his gaze off his sister, resolving to make it as hard for her as he could. He heard her inhale deep, and wondered if she was enjoying the scent of pine all around them. To him, it smelled like treason.

"I don't want my son to grow up a bigot," she said. "And… I don't want his uncle to have to hide around him, either."

So she knew. After all these years, having the confirmation, as vague as it was, was… jarring. Like being shoved while walking on a thin stone wall. His vision swam and he took his time to regain his balance. When Hannah didn't add anything, he snapped:

"That's it, that's your explanation?"

In his peripheral vision, she was nervously playing with the torn ends of her hair.

"You had no right to do this, Hannah. You… you tricked me," he spat. "How the fuck do I trust you now?"

"I thought," her voice trembled, "that way you'd see it doesn't mean anything to me! That I love you no matter what!"

Bobby folded forward, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. A heavy wave of fatigue washed over him, and with it, the rubble pulled away his will to fight.

"What about Bill, then? Did it occur to you to stop and think what this would be like for him? If he's ready at all?"

The shame was loud enough that she didn't need to voice it. Bobby chanced a look in time to see her shake her head.

"If you've fucked this up for me I swear it will take years for me to forgive you," Bobby forced out, careful to avoid the dangerous ‘never' word.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Oh, don't cry now," he snapped. "Too late to have regrets, you better start hoping that this is fixable."

She carried on sniffling, and the sound grated his nerves further.

"You know, you have no right to my story," he pivoted on the log, ready to direct his fury fully at her. "Even if you know you don't care, you don't get to decide when or how I tell you."

A bat of eyelids later, she lowered her gaze to her fingers, long and shaking in her lap.

"You have no idea what it's like," Bobby grunted.

Hannah gave a breathless chuckle: "Oh, I do."

Bobby blinked, struggling to assemble the pieces of the puzzle. He raked his eyes over his baby sister: her long, stringy hair, the dozen necklaces she sometimes twisted to wear as bracelets, the too large flowery pants.

"What… you?"

She nodded, looking torn between tears and laughter.

"But… what about Edgar's dad?" Bobby frowned.

Her giggling brushed the anger clean off him.

"Oh, surprise, surprise, women can be bisexual too," she laughed, brushing the moisture off her eyelashes with the back of her hands.

This time, Bobby dropped the weight of his head fully forward, hiding between his knees.

"This is too much for one day," he groaned, and the wet laughter continued to his right.

"I really am sorry. Thought I was doing the right thing."

He scoffed. There was no point in explaining to her again exactly where her plan went wrong.

"What now? Where's Bill? And Edgar?"

"They stayed in the car, as far as I know."

He must have weighed a fucking ton, then. Arms, legs and head impossible stones to lift. He remained limp, blood flowing to his head and turning his vision red around the corners. Contemplating all the times he'd hesitated in telling her, and that she actually…

"How long have you known?" he asked.

"I guess I'm what you'd call a late bloomer. There was… oh you know what, I don't need to tell you all the details."

Her flighty tone was enough fuel to snap Bobby out of his trance. He straightened up and pointed a finger in her face.

"I think you do, actually. Then you're going to find Bill and apologize, and hope that he hasn't run off back to Memphis on foot."

Bill stared as Hannah's figure retreated between the trees, following Bobby. How was he, notoriously uncomfortable with children, the one left behind with the kid again?

He sighed and turned to Edgar who was sucking on the ears of his bunny plushie, seemingly unfazed.

"Used to this, are you?"

He didn't get an answer, obviously.

"I wonder how long they'll be…"

He rolled his window up and opened the door instead. The sound of raucous laughter reached them, and he was taken with an urgent need for company. No offense meant to Edgar, but he wasn't exactly talkative.

He walked around the car and hoisted the kid out.

"Oof, you're getting heavy," he grunted as he settled him over his hip. Edgar stared at him with wide eyes. "Yes, and I'm getting old," Bill admitted with an eyeroll.

At least, the boy was used to his presence enough that he didn't immediately start wailing when Bill approached him. He turned to face the outskirts of the festival. People of all ages, gender and… presentation were walking under that banner, up the side of a small hill covered in stands.

"Well come on, let's go check this madness out."

He set off, sparing a thought for their things in the trunk and hoping that this place could be trusted so that they'd still be there when he came back.

It was like stepping into another world. As if the underside of that banner was the threshold to a separate dimension where it was okay to be covered in sparkles, wear insane wigs or…

His breath stuttered when he saw the two silhouettes, pressed up against a tree. Two men locked in an embrace that felt nearly voyeuristic to look at. His first instinct was to immediately avert his eyes, the vision burned on his retinas. Heart hammering away, he walked on.

Was this what he and Bobby looked like when… Could they form such a magical, alluring sight to others? His head full of questions, he didn't realize he'd walked up to a random stand, and only slowed down when a voice rose to greet him:

"Hello handsomes, how can I help you?"

Bill blinked to let his eyes settle on what he assumed was a fairytale creature populating this other world he'd traveled to. They sported long, luscious blond hair and wore the biggest hoop earrings he'd ever seen. Their voice was low and seductive, their makeup all over the place, and…

He felt his cheeks heat up when his gaze fell to their chest and the way their top nearly showed the middle of their breasts.

The creature grinned and cupped them with both hands.

"You like them?" they winked. "Just got them done."

Bill must have stammered something, for the creature laughed, then showed off a badge pinned very near the top of those fantastic breasts.

"I'm Cynthia. Were you looking for the kids' corner?"

Suddenly reminded of the weight in his arms, Bill looked down at Edgar, who was admiring Cynthia with awe.

"Um… Actually, I think I'd better wait for his mother to come back and decide about that. I was just… looking for some fresh air."

"And you stumbled into the freshest place of all," Cynthia chuckled. They bent at the waist and disappeared under the table for a second, reappearing with a little plastic case in hand. "May I interest you in a makeover, honey?"

Bill frowned and leaned forward to inspect the content of what turned out to be a makeup valise.

"Oh, um… I've…"

"Never done this before?" Cynthia gasped. "Everyone, we have a virgin!" she called out to the nearby stands, and Bill scrabbled to cover Edgar's ears – not that the kid hadn't heard worse, surely.

"What? I'm not… I have kids of my own, you know!" he hissed.

Cynthia clicked their fingers in front of his face in a complicated pattern.

"Shhh, don't get angry sweetheart. I mean a drag virgin! Let me see…" they rummaged through the many tubes that threatened to overflow from the little valise, then picked one with a satisfied hum. They thrust it near Bill's face, making him recoil in surprise.

"Yes, I think you'll look marvelous in purple. And we can give the lil' one beautiful stars on his perfect little cheeks!"

They turned around, grabbed a plastic chair and sat astride it under the parasol that was protecting the stand from the sun. When Bill didn't move, they waved at him, plucked eyebrows raised in a perfect arch.

"Well come on, what are you waiting for?"

Intrigued, tired and confused, Bill stepped around the table and took a seat.