The Houses in Rossford

“I know I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Paul said walking around the boxy Element, “but I don’t really know anything about cars.”

The young man in the tie and blue slacks looked at him.

“I mean I lived in LA, but I always had a battered car. And people say that you need a car there, but lots of people don’t have cars and they’ve always got buses. I’ve never really been into cars,” Paul confessed. “Basically, I need it to get me there and back.”

The car dealer laughed and Paul, who had spent his life acting, studied him to see if he was acting. Some people talked fast, so fast you couldn’t keep up and that was when you knew they were trying to lie to you.

“Do you have a large family?” the man said.

“No. No, this is just for me.”

“Well, then you don’t even need to be looking at an Element.”

“It’s sort of ugly anyway.”

“I know,” the salesman nodded in sad agreement. “Isn’t it? When I was little the cars were so much better. They were gas guzzlers, but they were better.”

“My dad used to have this huge El Camino.”

“Oh, God, mine too! He still has it. I wanted to drive it. It’s like sitting in a boat, right? But now with the price of gas and everything-”

“I know.”

“Hey,” the young man said to Paul. “Let me show you something little and economic.”

“That isn’t ugly?”

“That isn’t ugly.”

“By the way,” the young man said, “I love that Land Rover. I don’t know why you need something new.”

“It’s not my Land Rover.”

“Oh. Would you like your own?”

Paul grinned and said, “Not really. I kind of just need something for me. A Rover’s more like a family car.”

“Well, when you get a family, come back and I’ll sell you something. Ask for Kirk, personally.”

“Oh, and if I ask for Kirk, then I’ll get a deal?”

“No, if you ask for Kirk,” he said, raising his auburn brows over mischievous blue eyes, “you’ll get Kirk Hanley. And I’ll give you a deal.”

“Hanley. Like the Hanley on the outside of the car lot.”

“Yeah, Hanley Honda. Gotta love the alliteration. Especially since we don’t really sell Hondas anymore. And Hanley Ford next door. My sister does that place. Women like to come and shop there because she feels less sinister.”

Paul said, “You do seem rather un-sinister for a car dealer.”

“Well, it’s the used ones who are really sinister,” Kirk said, rubbing his hands together.

“Unfortunately that means you’re in trouble, because we sell those too. C’mon.”

Kirk led Paul out the door and into the back lot facing Demming Street.

And then he said: “Look at this.”

“Wow!”

“It’s a Jeep. Gets good mileage. A few years old. It’s a 2004 which makes it a hell of a lot cheaper than a 2008. I tuned it up myself.”

“You can fix cars?”

“You’re damn right I can,” Kirk thumped his chest. “You wanna take it on a test drive?”

“Sure.”

“The usual procedure is I come with you to make sure you don’t steal it, and to talk off your ear about how great it is. Let’s go.”

Paul wondered if it was this boy’s—he was hardly more than a boy, and not very tall, sort of like Noah—shtick to be this winning and likeable.

“I have to try to like you less.”

“Really,” Kirk said, closing the passenger door and pulling his seatbelt on. “And why is that?”

“Because your charm could be part of your shtick.”

“True,” Kirk agreed. “I was born with charm, but I was born selling cars so…” he shrugged.

“Why don’t you just fasten your seatbelt, start the car and enjoy the shtick.”

The Hanleys owned five lots all between Demming and Dorr, the used one faced Demming, and they headed southwest on it, down the Strip.

“I’ve seen you somewhere,” Kirk said. “Your face is so familiar.”

By now Paul was used to the fact that anyone could be a closet homo, so this man could have been sitting around watching Johnny Mellow.

“Have you ever heard of Johnny Mellow?” said Paul.

“No. But—that’s it!” he interrupted himself.

Johnny Mellow could sneak out and blacken Paul’s day. Johnny Mellow could take him down into a depression. Here he was, becoming normal, and this Kirk could only think of Johnny Mellow.

“You were in that play last weekend. You were Biff. You were really good. I mean, it was kind of funny cause I just sort of found myself wishing I knew you. Can you believe that?”

Paul stared at Kirk for so long that Kirk had to shout for him to stop for the red light.

“Yeah,” Paul muttered. “Yeah. Yeah. That was me! Thanks.”

“You were fantastic,” Kirk said. “I used to want to be an actor. The good thing about that playhouse is you don’t have to travel so far out to see something. You know? You can see something nice here. I like that.”

“Yeah,” Paul said, his mood lightening. He felt good. He wanted to be recognized for something beside Pizza Slut.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Kirk said.

“Kirk, you can ask me whatever the hell you want.”

Kirk burst out laughing.

“Well, good. That thing you said, about not expecting to ever have a family…?”

“Yes?” Paul.

“Is it because you’re gay?”

For the second time in five minutes the car dealer caught Paul off guard.

“I only ask,” Kirk explained, “because, you know, I used to feel the same way too. But…. Anything’s possible. Provided you find the right man.”

There was a red light as they approached Emerson. Paul turned to survey Kirk, and he said, “You don’t mince words do you?”

“No, I don’t. There’s not enough time. So…?”

“So what?”

“At around eight o’clock tonight one of us is going to pick the other up. Should it be me or you?”

“You’re a good friend,” Kenny said.

“I’m just a good listener,” said Milo Affren.

“I… Do you carry a torch for Dena?”

“I don’t carry shit for Dena,” Milo said, spreading his hands out across the kitchen table in the Affren kitchen.

“I don’t know. I knew she was with Brendan, but I hoped that something might happen with us. And, well, it didn’t so…”

“But now it could,” Kenny said. “Now that we’re all free.”

“Free? You make it sound all spiritual. Are you carrying a torch for Brendan m’lad?”

“No,” Kenny said. “That shit screwed me up. I was straight as an arrow before him. And I might go back.”

“You had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. A while ago.”

“And you were sleeping with her?”

“No!” Kenny sounded shocked. “I mean, hell. I’m just eighteen.”

“Dude,” Milo told him, “I don’t think you were ever straight as an arrow. I mean, nothing wrong with that. I just think Brendan turned you on to what you were. You’ll find around guy who’ll make your bells ring one day.”

“If I can get rid of Brendan first.”

“What’s that?” Milo stirred.

In a low, defeated voice, Kenny leaned in and told Milo:

“We’re still fucking each other.”

“Oh, gross!”

“Milo!”

`  “No,” Milo waved it away. “Not the whole gay thing. But the whole…. I don’t get what’s so hot about the guy. And he’s banging everyone!”

“He’s not like that. He’s—”

“And you’re justifying him.”

“I’m not,” Kenny said. “I’m just…”

The kitchen door swung open and Barb Affren walked in.

“You don’t have to get quiet just because of me,” she said.

“We’re not, grandma,” said Milo.

“You kids think you started everything, but I’ve done some stuff in my time,” Barb said, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out the Saltines. She went into the refrigerator and gathered up dip and soda.

“Like I bet you didn’t know to pay my way through school…” she said at the door, “I was a stripper.”

And then she bumped the door with her behind and was gone.

“Is she serious?” Kenny said.

“With grandma? I don’t put shit past that old broad. But back to you?”

“No, Milo!”

“Back to you,” Milo insisted.

“You’re still in love with Brendan? Aren’t you?”

Kenny shut his mouth tight, and chose to plead the Fifth.   

“I JUST FEEL SO BAD about everything that’s happened,” Dan Malloy said over coffee.

“Yeah,” Fenn said. “And yet… didn’t we already know? I mean, I feel bad for my niece, no one telling her the truth. I hate to say this,” he turned to Todd, “but my sympathy for Dena is pretty slim.”

“Brendan came to me,” Dan said, hands clasped. “He came to me and told me how he thought he might… not be straight.”

“Be gay,” Todd supplied baldly.

“Yes. And he even told me about how he thought he’d start something with Dena. To… fix himself. I didn’t know what to do. Or what to say.”

Fenn refilled his cup and noted, “You could have told the truth.”

Dan looked at him. “No, Fenn. I couldn’t have. I’m a priest.”

“Strike One!” Todd sang, “for the Catholic Church!”

“I’m not a shrink,” Dan continued. “Or even Oprah. I can’t just say exactly how I feel or talk about myself. Brendan was coming to me as a symbol of the Church, and as that symbol I could not say or betray anything that was not in line with the Church.”

“You know what I think?” Todd said.

“What?” Dan sounded a little irritated.

“I think Brendan came to you as a wise person who could help him, and I think you failed him. That’s what I think. Strike Two for the Catholic Church.”

“I think you’re too hard on him,” Fenn said to Todd.

Dan said nothing.

“I think when people go to certain places for certain answers they know what they want to hear, and what they’re ready for. Brendan wanted to be a heterosexual. The only seventeen year old whose conduct I need to be concerned about is Layla’s. But I’ll say that what that boy did was shabby, and you can’t blame Dan’s or—for that matter—Dena’s stupid behavior on him.”

Todd began: “Dena wasn’t stupid.”

“She was stupid,” Fenn insisted flatly, and sadly, as the door opened and Paul walked in, face shining.

“Father Dan!”

“Paul,” Dan nodded.

“I need to talk to you.”

“As a symbol of Catholic Church?” Todd said smiling tartly at Dan, “Or as himself?”

“As a man to a man.”

Dan thumped the table and stood up.

“Let’s talk, then,” he said.

“I have a date. Or, at least I’m supposed to have a date,” Paul said.

“Well,” Dan said hesitantly. “That’s good… Right?”

“I don’t go on dates,” Paul said.

“I’ve never been on one before.”

“Really?” said Dan. Then he smiled. “Neither have I.”

“Not a real date,” Paul said. “In the old days there were things where I would go to dinner with someone, you know… as part of the service. But that’s not the same thing.”

The priest nodded.

“This guy… I think he’s nice. I think we could get along. I really feel good around him, He made me feel good, Father. He saw me in the play. But when he said he knew me, I instantly went back to… ”

“You thought he knew you from something else. Like a film.”

“Yes, exactly like a film. And… he doesn’t know what I’ve done, and I don’t know how to date someone, what he expects, what’s moving too fast or to slow or even if I can. If I can move at all with someone I really like. I don’t know what to do.”

Dan Malloy was silent for a while. He scratched his unshaven chin, then said,

“You’re thinking about canceling on him, aren’t you?”

“Honestly. Yes. All I know is fucking people. That’s what I do. I fuck guys. I don’t even have real friends. Aside from Fenn. And you I guess.”

“You guess?”

Paul grinned, “Well, then I know.”

“You do,” Dan said. “And I think you also know that the one thing you can’t do is cancel on this man.”

“Father—”

“No,” Dan said. “You can’t run away from everything that scares you. You said you wanted a new life. You wanted to do new things. You’ve gotta do this. All right?”

“All right, I guess.”

“Look, this isn’t confession, and you’re not a kid, so I can tell you everything that’s on my mind. Do this, Paul. Don’t spit on the chance to find a good guy—”

“If he is a good guy—”

“If he’s not you’ll figure it out by the night’s end.”

Paul nodded.

“And you don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to,” Dan added.

“Make it through tonight before you think about confessing your deepest secrets.”

Paul nodded.

Then he grinned and shrugged.

“I’m gonna go through with this.”

“You’re damn right you are.”

“He’s really cute, Fath—I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

Dan shrugged.

“I’m not made out of stone,” he said. “I wasn’t always a priest.”

Paul thought about this and blinked, and then he said, “Father, can I ask you a question?”

Anticipating the question, Dan folded his hands together and spoke.

“Before there was a Todd, or a Tom for that matter,” Dan said, “I knew Fenn. And I could feel and do whatever I wanted, and love him as I chose. As we chose.”

Paul’s eyes waited for more of an explanation, but all Dan Malloy said was, “Things happened the way things were meant to, and Fenn is who he is, and I ended up being Father Dan.”

Paul opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Dan said:

“And since no one else ever came along, being Father Dan makes me happy.”

“Well, I like you both,” Claire said.

“I’m not saying she’s not a good person,” Julian clarified. “It’s only…”

“Look, I get it,” Claire said, throwing up a hand. “I don’t get along with Matt half the time. In fact, I could sell him to gypsies. That said, I think you should do as I say and not as I do. She’s your sister, you should work something out.”

“Layla’s attitude is not my fault,” Julian said, turning to look out of the restaurant window onto Demming Street.

“First, this man who has had nothing to do with me my whole life turns up in our house, because his wife couldn’t tolerate him anymore, and then I’m saddled with this sister giving me the evil eye. Cause I took her father? I don’t want him. To be honest, I don’t want my mother, either. God,” Julian broke off, looking out the window, “I can’t wait to start school this fall.”

“Good,” Claire drummed the table. “Let’s find another topic. Like, where are you going?”

“Well, I had thought about Carmel about an hour and a half from here. And there was the Art Institute in Chicago. I already got rejected from The University of Chicago.”

“Sorry.”

Julian shrugged, “But that was to be expected.”

“All right,” Claire said quickly. “Here’s what I think you should do. Don’t go to the Art Institute because that’s probably bullshit anyway, and you should learn something real. Don’t go to Carmel either.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Claire said doing a drum roll on the table, “I’m going to Loretto!”

“What!”

Claire nodded. “Pretty sure of it. It’s far enough from East Carmel for me. And I can keep an eye on Paul.”

“Well,” Julian said, closing his hands and smiling to himself, “that is something.”

“You bet your ass its something.”

“Claire, I’m really glad you came down here.”

“Actually I came up here,” she said. “And between meeting you again and spending Sunday in East Carmel… there wasn’t a big contest.”

“I’ll come down next time. We could do the cruise lap.”

Claire shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“You’re really a horrible person, you know that, Julian?”

“Thank you. Oh…” Julian stopped.

Claire followed his eyes.

Out in the parking lot there was an old, thin blackened man she thought she knew. She was sure of it, and he had climbed out of his very old, very large rust bucket of a car and was walking around Julian’s. He frowned and pushing his glasses up, then headed for the restaurant.

“Jul’yen!” he croaked. “Jul’yen!”

He marched over to the table and smiled saying, “I know this pretty thing.”

“Yes,” Claire said, remembering suddenly. Layla’s grandfather.

“What’s up?” Julian said, turning to him casually.

“Don’t what’s up me, boy. I ought to whoop your ass,” he muttered negligently. “Youth ain’t got no goddamn respect these days.

“Tell, your mama I’m staying with her and that son of a bitch for a few days. Tell ‘em I’m camping out there cause that ornery bitch and her mama won’t have me. Tell ‘em.”

Julian shrugged and looked woebegone.

“All right,” he said. “The more the merrier.”

As the bow legged old man sauntered out of the restaurant, Claire leaned across the table and hissed, “Julian! How do you know him?”

Julian frowned at her in confusion.

“He’s my grandfather.”