How Gay Guys Think - Darius' POV
Somewhere in the middle of France, there’s this picturesque little village. It was a warm day in August when our car finally pulled up to the gate of one of the houses there. Liza (my cousin), her friends, and I had spent way too long in that thing getting from the airport to the house. The gate creaked open, and the car rolled over the dark grey stones.
I wondered who would be here this year. It was different every time I went. Sometimes literally everybody was there, sometimes not even half of the family. Always Rita and Freddy, and usually Rudy was here too.
He lived in the village and was Freddy’s best friend, his parents had a small hotel farther down the road. They were Americans through and through, but they wanted a change of scenery after his dad did some questionable things regarding some tax work almost a decade ago. Allegedly. Rudy wasn’t really that close with his parents so he spent a lot of time literally anywhere else, as long as it wasn’t the hotel. Which was why he stayed with Freddy and Rita a lot.
“Do you think Rudy’s there?” One of Liza’s friends asked. I didn’t care to learn their names. Not because I’m an asshole, but because they wouldn’t be here the next time I saw Liza anyway.
“He’s always here,” I told her and got out of the car. I took my bag with me. I filled it up too much, so I struggled to carry it to the door, which was nothing new.
I heard some excited giggles behind me. He was really just a guy. He was American like us, he wasn’t some romantic French guy. And he was always. Here.
“We’re in France, and you’re excited to see Rudy?” I asked, eyebrow raised.
The friend grinned. “What can I say? I like my men cultured,” she shot back. Liza, behind her, was pulling her bag from the car with a dramatic flourish.
I rolled my eyes. “He’s barely a man, let alone cultured.”
“He’s so cute,” Liza’s other friend cut in. “I would totally let him and Freddy throw me across the room.”
Liza’s face scrunched up in disgust. “Not Freddy, he’s my cousin!” she exclaimed.
“Where do you find these people?” I asked, giving her a look. “They get worse every year. I really didn’t need that mental image.”
I finally pushed open the door and walked through it, out of the all seeing eye of the sun. It was a lot cooler inside. Almost all of the walls were made from natural stones and cement, and even though you’d think that that would make the house very, very hot, it did the opposite. It was like a cave in there. Almost frigid if you left the curtains closed.
“Manners,” Liza told me. She paid the taxi driver and came inside after me.
“You’re telling me?” I shot back. I tossed my bag in a corner of the hallway.
From the kitchen, I heard clanking of dishes. That had to be Rita. Freddy’s mother, and my non-blood-related, adopted-by-divorce aunt. She married my uncle once upon a time, and now, after the split, she was the one keeping the house in order. He was totally out of the picture, both from her life and ours. No one missed that asshole.
The smell of garlic and herbs hit me in the face as soon as I walked into the kitchen. It smelled amazing.
“Oh, I missed this,” I said.
As soon as she spotted us, her face lit up. She dropped whatever she was doing and rushed over to pull Liza into a big hug.
“Liza, my beautiful girl!” Rita said, squeezing Liza as if she hadn’t seen her in years. “Look at you, you’re getting prettier every time I see you!”
Liza smiled, her arms wrapped around Rita. “It’s good to see you, Rita. What’s cooking?”
“You’ll see when it’s time to eat,” Rita laughed before turning to me. She smiled a sweet smile. “Come here, you.”
I grinned. Rita pulled me into one of those long, warm hugs, the kind only she could give, like she could squeeze all the bad out of the world for just a moment. “Did you miss me, Rita?”
“Always,” she said, pulling back just enough to hold me by the shoulders. “You causing trouble lately?”
“Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t,” I shot back with a wink.
Rita shook her head with a laugh. “I knew it. I knew it! As long as you keep trouble out of the kitchen, I’m more than happy to see you.”
Liza’s friends were still hovering awkwardly by the door like they weren’t sure if they were allowed to come in. It was usually like this. Every year, Liza’s friends would start out shy and overwhelmed by the family, then at the end of it they were crazier than all of us combined. And the next time there would be different ones and it would start all over again.
“Hi ladies, what are your names?” Rita asked.
“Brittany and Tiffany,” Liza said, introducing them with a wave.
“You girls make yourselves at home, alright? And if you need anything, just give a yell. We’re all family here.”
The girls nodded, smiling in that polite, nervous way. She gave them one last reassuring nod before turning back to the stove. “Now leave,” she said, “you all better get out and say hello to the rest of the family before anyone realizes you’re two hours late.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I said.
O
“What’s up, sexy people,” I said as I walked into the living room. I ran to hug grandpa as soon as I spotted him. I hadn’t seen him since last year August, which was now almost exactly a year ago. He wasn’t there in January when I was here last, something with his knees.
“My favorite grandson,” he hollered.
Freddy scraped his throat as he walked by to greet Liza and her friends. He sat with Rudy and uncle Tony before we came in.
“And my second favorite grandson,” Samuel added. Jokingly, but Freddy was too occupied with the two new girls to really get it.
My eyes grazed past Rudy before I got to grandpa. He (Rudy, not grandpa) looked like his hair was backlit by a studio light. He didn’t face me, though. I quickly looked away and dove onto grandpa.
“I missed you nonno,” I said. “How are your knees? You’re really getting old now, huh.” At this, he let out a thundering laugh.
Before you ask: Grandpa is Italian, he moved to France when he was like 13 and grew up in this house, which is why this is our family home in France. He then moved to America because of his career and met our grandma. He stayed there with her most of the time when he wasn’t on an expedition, which is why we are all born in America.
Uncle Rob, the only ginger in the family since he married in, who sat across from him, joined in on the hug which now really almost crushed grandpa. “He may be old, but he still drinks like a twenty-year-old. I told him, he can’t ride a bike with us tomorrow if he’s drunk.”
Rob was a bike salesman and, naturally, loved to do bike stuff. He always had some type of bike with him when he came here, or anywhere for that matter. Thank god he was out of the phase where he tried to get everyone else to bike too, though. Except maybe grandpa, but I think that was more like a joke.
“If you see me drinking more tomorrow, you know why,” grandpa joked, then pushed us off of him. “And like you said: I’m old, no way you’re getting me on a bike.”
I chuckled, then turned to Rob. “Where’s Gen?”
Rob started glowing by the idea of her alone. If there was anything he loved more than bikes, it was his wife. He was literally like a ginger Gomez Adams. And I loved that for him. “Changing, she spilled on her dress,” he said.
I looked across the room at Liza and her friends who were talking to Freddy and uncle Tony. I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. Freddy had already amped up his charm to an 11, and we’d been here maybe five minutes. He was really doing the most.
I walked over and clapped Tony on the back. He was about a hundred pounds more muscular than I was. “My favorite gorilla,” I said.
Tony looked over. His eyes immediately brightened and he pulled me into one of his bro-hugs. Too masculine to give me a proper hug, but when a hand was involved somewhere in there it was for some reason absolutely fine. Which actually sounds a lot gayer.
“Keeping fit, Darius,” he said, clapping me on the back too. Except when he did it, it was like he was actively trying to dislocate my shoulder. He almost succeeded. I winked and mock-flexed.
Tony jokingly squeezed my bicep. “One more curl and you’re bigger than me,” he said.
I laughed and looked over at Freddy. He hadn’t acknowledged me even once yet. Before i could greet him, though, I felt hands on my shoulders. Rudy then appeared in my field of vision. Fuck, he did look good this year.
“Came straight from the set of mamma Mia, did you?” He said, nodding at my outfit.
“I’d bet my life that you’ve never seen the movie,” I said while shaking his hands off of me.
Freddy came up to me, his face was considerably more sour than when he’d been talking to the girls. He barely shook my hand, as if I had something contagious. Being fun to be around maybe. I wouldn’t want to pass that onto him. No one would recognize him.
“Darius,” he said, with a nod. “Good to see you, cousin.”
“Yeah, you too,” I said.
Rita came into the living room, two oven mitts on her hands. “Anyone has a hand they can miss?” She asked.
I ran over, glad to be away from Rudy’s eyes and Freddy’s… well, Freddy’s eyes too, I guess? “I can’t miss ‘em but I can use ‘em,” I told her.
I heard Rudy’s voice calling after me. “Don’t hide in there too long, Darius. You might start thinking three guys could actually be your dad.”
I waved him and the mamma Mia reference off and slipped into the warmer, quieter space of the kitchen.
I helped Rita take all of the dishes to the dining table. They smelled amazing, I had missed these home cooked meals more than I realized. So good.
O
It wasn’t long after the food had been put out on the table that aunt Genevieve came around the corner with a bottle of wine in her one hand and a glass of it in her other. When she saw us, she hurried to put the bottle of wine down (she kept the glass, though) and pulled me and Liza into a group hug.
“Finally you’re here,” she said. “There was way too much testosterone here. Don’t you two ever make me wait that long again.”
“You have more testosterone than me,” Tony joked, which earned him a slap from her.
“That explains why I saw you wearing a thong then, darling,” she said. Tony laughed. Aunt Gen looked back at us with a happy smile. “You two look fabulous. Love you. Let’s eat.” Like the whirlwind she was, she went to sit down next to Rob and started sipping her wine.
I raised my eyebrows at Liza. She nodded. Gen was already drunk.
My eyes got pulled over Liza’s shoulder. Rudy was talking to one of Liza’s friends (Jessica? Katie? I still didn’t know) about something. Something riveting, no doubt. But he looked real good doing it.
I shivered at the thought. I was turning into one of Liza’s minions.
I looked away, just barely catching Rudy glancing my way. I looked back, but he was already looking away. Now I just felt stupid. I quickly sat down at the table and stuffed my face with bread. God, right after saying Rudy wasn’t all that, too. Embarrassing. And he wasn’t all that.
Rita scooted past behind me, going round with some potatoes. “Anyone more potatoes?” She asked.
Tony raised his hand. “Best potatoes in France, hands down,” he said. He wasn’t wrong. They were these herb crusted small potatoes, they were golden brown and they smelled so good. I’m not exaggerating when I say I got a foodgasm.
Liza’s friends, on the other side of the table, looked like they were having one too, except without the ‘food’ part. My god. If they tilted their head a bit downward, I’m sure the drool would come out of their mouths. I think they’d rather eat Fred and Rudy than Rita’s potatoes. Best American boys in France. To be fair, one was made by Rita. Little potato head.
“What’re you brooding about?” Liza nudged me.
I looked over at her. “I’m not brooding.”
“You’re quieter than usual and you look like you have to take a shit. You’re definitely brooding.”
I relaxed my face. In all honesty, I hadn’t realized I tensed it up to begin with. “If you really want to know, I was trying to guess how long it’ll take them before they stop the eye-fucking and start the real thing. I’m thinking maybe a minute.”
“Generous. I’ll guess half a minute,” she replied.
“Exactly as long as they will last.”
“Darius, darling,” Genevieve suddenly started from across the table, “do you still go to that art school?”
“Yes,” I replied and pricked a tomato on my fork. “I’ve got two more years. I really like it though. I made a sculpture before the vacation started. Or that’s when I finished it.”
“What kind?” Rita asked me. She hovered beside me for a moment. I knew she’d be interested, the whole backyard was filled with her own creations.
“It’s a, err,” I started, “kind of like a cloud figure, I guess you could call it. Queerness is always portrayed as a rainbow, but I wanted to show that it’s the clouds too. It’s not always sunshine.”
“That’s a real good concept,” Rudy told me. When I looked over at him, I saw that he was fully turned towards me. Like he’d been listening to me for a while longer. I became hyperaware of how I was sitting, so I awkwardly adjusted a bit.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Why do you make ‘gay’ your personality,” Fred casually interjected.
“At least I have one,” I said.
“I’m just saying,” Fred said. “Even your boyfriends appreciate it if you do more than just… be gay.” He said it like it was something silly, to be gay.
“How do you know how gay guys think?” I snapped back. “Do you want to tell us something, Freddy? Oh, I know. You work at that wood company because you like long, hard, girthy sticks, right?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve had more women than you’ve had men, and that’s saying something. There’s two things I love in life. Hooters and cooters.”
“Freddy, please don’t. Not over my soup,” Gen said.
Tony and Rob both started laughing, Tony probably because he genuinely thought it was funny, Rob because it was such a ridiculous thing to say. I was definitely with Rob on that one.
“You’re actually disgusting,” I told Freddy. “I don’t get how you even get one woman. Seriously. That’s so degrading.” I shot a look at Liza’s friends, but they didn’t really seem to hear what Fred had just said. Seriously, how much bigger did he need to make his red flag?
“Are you still together with ehm,” Gen started. She struggled finding the name.
“Juan?” I helped.
“Yes! Juan!” Gen said.
“He cheated on Darius with a sixteen year old boy,” Liza said. I shot her a look, but she innocently took a sip of her wine and raised her shoulders.
“Wow,” Rudy said.
“Great taste,” Rob added.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking. I’m in therapy now. Turns out I have a tendency to self sabotage by going for assholes who i know will fuck me over because I don’t believe I deserve love.”
Liza’s friends were staring very directly at their plates.
“So that’s how my summer was,” I concluded.
“Do you have pictures of the sculpture?” Liza asked, cutting Fred off from something he was about to say. Probably for the better, since this was literally the first time in months we saw each other.
I nodded and grabbed my phone from my pocket. I saw Rudy standing up out of the corner of my eye, he walked over to me. He and Rita both looked over my shoulder, though he placed one of his hands on it, too. I started swiping through the pictures. But I couldn’t really focus on the narration I was supposed to be doing, because Rudy’s hand was really warm, and the feeling of his eyes on my screen even warmer. He kind of kneaded my shoulder when he felt me tense up a bit, which obviously made things worse.
“That looks incredible, Darius,” Rita said. Liza nodded too, completely focused on my screen.
“You made this yourself? That’s crazy, it’s really good,” Rudy added. “You’ve grown a lot in your art since last year.”
“Thanks,” I just said. I felt Fred’s eyes on me too, though those were a lot less friendly.
Rudy went to sit back down and Rita disappeared into the kitchen for a second to get more food.
“What do you do again, Fred?” Liza asked. Probably to get Fred’s eyes off of me.
“Logging. It’s with wood.”
“Oh, so you’re like a lumberjack!” One of Liza’s friends asked. “That’s so hot!” Fred just grimaced.
“And you, Rudy, do you still work in that furniture shop?” Liza asked Rudy.
Rudy, with a mouthful of broccoli, nodded. “Yeth,” he murmured.
“You in a furniture shop?” Grandpa asked with a raised eyebrow. “I wouldn’t peg ya for a furniture man.”
“Preferably don’t peg him at all,” Genevieve said with a little giggle. I scrunched my nose at her. She smiled.
Rudy swallowed his broccoli. “No, it’s fine. I don’t know if I’ll do it for the rest of my life but it’s the best option here,” Rudy said.
“Do you make, like, chairs and things like that?” One of Liza’s friends asked.
“Yeah, kinda,” was Rudy’s reply. I could almost feel the enthusiasm in him. I know sarcasm doesn’t translate well to paper, so: I was being sarcastic. And he didn’t really seem too happy to talk about it any more than that.
We ate more. It was really good. I could eat Rita’s meals every single day. If I were ever on death row, this would be my last meal.
Uncle Rob couldn’t resist starting another passionate ode to bikes. For some reason, he was directing it at grandpa again. “Sam, the trails out here are begging for some off-roading. You should join me one morning, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”
Grandpa waved him off with an amused smile. “Rob, I’m too old to be pretending I’m Evel Knievel. I’ll stick to my scotch, thanks.”
Rob laughed. “You say that every year, but one of these days, old man, I’ll get you back on two wheels.”
“Two wheels? I got trouble staying on two legs!” Grandpa joked.
Genevieve, who sat between the two of them, raised her glass. She clinked it against Rob’s. “Good luck, darling.”
Tony, cutting into his steak with a smirk, added, “The only way dad’s getting on a bike again is if it comes with a leather recliner and a minibar.”
The table broke into laughter, and Grandpa, always the good sport, raised his glass in mock salute. “I’ll drink to that.”
