New essays!

I've been working on a collection of vignettes for the past couple years, and finally made a dent in their progress. I'll be sharing many of them here, while I continue to write and get them together.

As always, thank you for sticking around! Means the world -

October 2019

Dennis was on the J train, headed somewhere into Bushwick. October had finally shown up, and 15 days in it was just starting to get cold enough to wear a jacket at night. He’d brushed out his shoulder length curls, and was wearing the same green hunting jacket he’d gotten at Goodwill years before. Headphones on, he looked around the train. The usual suspects. Blue collar latino men. Fashion girls wearing outfits that they’d gotten at Urban Jungle, styled with their TERF bangs, short and tight. Two gays, yelling about if it was easier to get off and walk over to Macri Park or if they should just take the J all the way there. They must be new here. The J doesn’t go to Macri Park.

His phone lit up with a text from Adam: Addy is 87 Troutman. Stella’s already here. We have alc. Can’t wait to see you ;)

The winky face, even worse than the devil horns emoji. Adam reminded him so much of the boys he’d loved in high school. Buzz cut. Muscley. A corny tattoo on his left ass cheek. Bisexual. Mostly into girls, but open to being lusted after by gay boys. Dennis was smitten. He typed out, Sick babes. See you soon you FREAK.

—-------------------------

“C’mon down, angel!”

Stella opened the door. She had been drinking since that afternoon and had spilled wine on her too tight white t shirt. Choppy brown hair, slicked back. She’d grown up in StuyTown and it showed.

“Adam has said so much about you. He’s downstairs getting dressed. I’m Stella. You’re Dennis. We’re going to have so much fun. Do you have a cigarette?”

Dennis nodded.

“ You do? Me too. Good. We’ll be so good, darling. Adam says you’re a photographer?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working freelance for the last couple years since graduation.”

He hadn’t, but it sounded better than saying he worked in luxury coffee, and photographed naked boys in his room at 3 am after getting home from the bar.

“So cute. I’m one too, but I only shoot film. My mom taught me. I grew up in StuyTown, you know, so it was totally environmental. So easy to just see the world. City kids, you know? Such city kids. She’s not a photographer though, but I should switch to Parsons next year and we’ll see what happens.”

“Where do you go now?

“Hunter, but only because it was free.”

“Oh, a scholarship?”

“No, my parents are paying.”

“Oh, sick.”

Adam came up the stairs wearing a leather racing jacket like Dale Earnhardt Jr, a tie loosely draped around his neck. He’d never been sexier, unfortunately. Dennis hugged him and realized it was not only a tie hanging from his neck, but a silver chain as well. Ridiculous. So hot.

Stella went to the bathroom to try and pour water on her shirt to get the wine stain out. This didn’t work and just made her look like an extra in a wet t-shirt contest. Not one of the girls competing but someone who’d come along because their friend Sierra had promised them a good time, and she got stuck on the sidelines while Sierra and her new friend Jenna took their tops off, doing their best Spring Breakers impression.

Spraaaaaang Breeeeeeak. Sprrrrrriiiiing Breeeaaaaakkkkkk Foreverrrrrrrr.

Her black and white polkadot bra showed through the shirt, and Adam came up behind her, cupping her left breast as she looked in the mirror.

“Indecent exposure. There’s a gay here.”

Dennis lit a cigarette inside and rolled his eyes.

—--------------------------

They took a car to a bar called A Night of Joy which is a terrible name for a bar. Who’s joy? Dennis had never had a good time there. There was a rooftop which never seemed to be open and the drinks were expensive for being a relatively new space. $8 for a well drink. It was $6 at Macri Park. Maybe the straight crowd had more money to burn. Dennis had a $25 budget, which was pushing it.

Emily and Heather were standing outside the door when they pulled up, passing an American Spirit back and forth. The smoke curled around their brushed out hair, glowing slightly from the awful sign flickering above the entrance. Heather looked bored, and Emily had clearly been crying, her eyes puffy even from the distance of the car. Stella gasped.

“Adam. You didn’t tell me they were going to be here. I thought Emily was at Oberlin? And I thought Heather got married?”

“Chill, babes. They’re just here to see me.”

“I’m sure. Is that who was texting you earlier?”

“No, that was me.” Dennis offered.

It was true. Dennis had been sending Adam photos earlier that evening, feeling confident from the three glasses of Trader Joe’s wine that he’d poured while getting ready. He’d found some old American Apparel underwear at the bottom of his closet—faded, stretched out—and decided to put them on. Took a few snaps in the bathroom mirror. But Adam loved that kind of thing. There was something about the whole cheap, ragged aesthetic that got him off, and Dennis knew it.

The three of them finally climbed out of the car, dragging their feet as they crossed over to where the girls stood.

“Happy birthday, asshole,” Emily said, her voice rough from the smoke. She coughed, “Heather just told me you two have been dating for, what, the past two weeks?”

Heather stamped out the cigarette, grinding the butt into the concrete with the heel of her boot:

“It’s true, Adam. Right?”

Stella rolled her eyes, scoffing. This whole thing was insulting.

Dennis lit another cigarette and Adam slid his arm around his shoulders.

“Look, ladies—and Denny,” Adam said, his voice dripping with exaggerated charm (bullshit). “It’s my birthday, and I wanted all my best girls here.”

Heather groaned, grabbing Emily by the arm and dragging her toward the door. “We need a drink,” she said, and Stella followed, not bothering to look back.

“Girls, am I right?” Adam said. He kissed Dennis on the cheek, took his cigarette out of his mouth, and stamped it out, smearing ashes over the spray painted sidewalk: Clinton-Kaine 2016. What a wash.

———————————

The girls were lined up at the bar. It was busy for a Tuesday, even though it was already 1 am. Adam immediately disbanded for the upstairs, which was miraculously open. Stella got a PBR and went to pout in a corner by the nonworking jukebox. Heather and Emily got vodka sodas and found a hightop table close to a window. Dennis joined them. Emily had dropped out of Oberlin, moved back to Brooklyn and had really found her calling working in Bridal fashion. Heather had never been engaged, let alone married.

“So you girls were both dating Adam, huh? Very John Tucker Must Die. Chic, kind of.” Dennis tried to sound nice. He didn’t play well with others, and they had no idea. How sad.

“I still don’t believe it. I’m just going to focus on myself. I’ve met some totally down to earth girls at Leslie’s and they’re really keeping me grounded. Bridal is so much about selling a lifestyle. My manager, Kat, is so cool. She’s from Pittsburgh but she really found herself at Burning Man last year, and realized she just wanted to tell love stories so she found Leslie’s on LinkedIn and moved here.”

Dennis realized this must be the same Katherine he knew from when his roommate’s older brother dumped his Pittsburgh girlfriend after a bad trip during Burning Man.

“Oh I know Katherine, actually.”

Dennis sipped his Tecate and took a drag from his cigarette.

“It’s Kat now.”

“Excuse me?”

“She used to go by Katherine but now she goes by Kat.”

“Oh I didn’t know she transitioned.”

“She didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Stella walked up to them, drunker than before. The wine stain on her shirt had expanded, a darkening brown blotch that blended with the beer she’d clearly spilled on herself. “Has anyone seen Adam?” she whispered.

Like clockwork, Adam appeared at the table, the tie he’d been wearing now missing. Dennis noticed it draped around the shoulders of a blonde girl waiting in the line for the bathroom, her lipstick smeared. He saw Adam look back at her and then smile at the group of them, “Miss me?”

Stella started crying and went to wait in line for the bathroom behind the new girl with Adam’s tie, wearing it like a trophy. Emily and Heather stood up in sync from the table, and Emily took the lead:

“We know what you’ve been doing.”

Adam didn’t miss a beat, “and what’s that?”

“You’re flirting with all of us. You’ve been texting me for weeks, told Heather you two were exclusive. And clearly you’ve been fucking Stella too, god knows why, but she can’t get her shit together over you.”

The two girls didn’t wait for an answer, storming off and out the door. Dennis sighed and rolled his eyes, following them out, already digging in his pockets for another cigarette.

“You can’t just fuck with all of us like this, Adam! Did you think we wouldn’t find out? Are you that stupid?”

Emily was pissed.

Adam laughed.

“But it’s my birthday. I’m supposed to have my cake and eat it, too.” He smiled. He was the star, afterall.

Dennis hung back, smoking his cigarette and grinning. He walked up behind Adam, wrapping his arms around his waist and turning him around. Taking his forefinger, Dennis closed Adam’s eyes and kissed him on the mouth, interrupting his cocky snarl.

Dennis felt Adam’s tongue into his mouth almost instantly, and he didn’t pull away. The kiss deepened, their bodies pressed against each other. They stood there with their lips moving in front of the three girls standing in the doorway.

Stella cried. Heather stared. Emily laughed;

“Oh you’ve got the fag in on it too, now?”

Dennis laughed, “The fag’s always been in on it, honey.”

He pulled out his lighter, the snap cutting the silence as he placed a cigarette between Adam’s chapped lips. He lit it with an expert flick as Adam’s face was illuminated from both sides.

“Happy birthday, baby boy. Good luck!”

Dennis leaned in and kissed Adam’s cheek, then turned on his heel without another word. He walked away towards the G train (you should take that to get to Macri Park, by the way) leaving Adam and the girls to the night.

———————————

The next time they saw each other was at Dennis’s birthday the following month. Adam showed up in the same racing jacket, his head shaved again, but no tie or chain. Adam bought Dennis a drink and spent most of the night playing skeeball by himself.

When the bar closed at 4 am, Dennis had drunkenly convinced himself he needed the giant ZZ plant in the corner of the back room. He liked the plastic green pot it was in. Without a word, Adam picked it up, tucking it under one arm, and grabbed Dennis’s hand with the other, leading them both out of the bar.

They never saw each other again. Dennis still had the plant.