Maybe the Moon
don’t see how it’s of interest.”
“Well, I do.”
“He’s just a psychopath.” Callum shrugged and gave me and Renee an amiable, bemused look that said: What got into him?
“A queer psychopath,” said Jeff.
“That’s your interpretation.”
Jeff wheeled around to argue his case with me. “He wears eye shadow, OK? He has a fucking Judy Garland poster over his bed. How tired is that? And his hair”—he looked around urgently for a moment, then held up a corner of Renee’s electric-yellow tablecloth—“is this color.”
“You’ve read the script, then?”
“What else? You can’t get on the goddamn set. I can’t, anyway.”
I wasn’t about to touch that one, so I turned back to Callum. “And this psychopath…molests your little brother?”
He shook his head, remaining remarkably serene. “It never comes to that. It’s never clear what he’s going to do.”
“It’s clear,” said Jeff. “It’s clear to me.”
“Well, your imagination is highly political.”
“And something’s wrong with that?”
Callum shook his head, smiling dimly. “Unless you’re talking about entertainment.”
“Yeah, you’re right. What could be more entertaining than a good old-fashioned queer-killing?”
“Jeff…”
“Well, that’s what it is.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You push him out of a helicopter, don’t you? We see the guy being nellie all the way to the ground. Jesus, I can hear the cheers already.”
“He’s the villain, for God’s sake.”
“The gay villain. And they never let you forget it. I could handle that if there had ever been a single gay hero, or even a regular person, but there never is. We’re only visible when we’re killers or objects of ridicule.” Jeff looked at me again. “Don’t you think it’s a little twisted that a gay man is playing a straight cop who greases a fag?”
Callum laid his napkin on the table. “I think we’re boring the ladies, Jeff.”
“Oh, really?” Jeff kept his eyes on me. “Am I boring you?”
I waited a beat before replying calmly: “Not quite yet.” For all I knew, he could have a valid point, but he’d picked a crummy time to make it. Renee was looking mortified, and I was getting sick and tired of playing middle woman.
“Fine,” said Jeff. “I’ll shut up.”
Callum tried to placate him. “That was an old script you saw. I should’ve shown you a new one.”
“Yeah, I guess you should have.”
“Other people thought that was a sensitive area too. They made some major changes.”
“What did they do?” asked Jeff. “Lose the Judy Garland poster?”
“Kassabian, chill out!” This was me as I hurled my wadded napkin—lightheartedly, I hoped—in Jeff’s direction. It landed short of the mark in his empty salad bowl. He scowled at it briefly, then at me, but said nothing further, apparently secure in the knowledge that the last word had been his and that all I’d provided was the punctuation.
“There’s lots more ice cream,” Renee offered meekly.
After dinner we retired to the parlor—as Renee insists on calling it when we have company. I stretched out on my tapestry pillow at Callum’s and Jeff’s feet, and Renee took the armchair, where she proceeded to kill four glasses of “cream dement” and hold the guysin thrall with an unconsciously gothic account of her kiddie pageant days. She was so delighted by their response that, as a grand finale, she sprang to her feet and recited a poem about world peace (complete with hand gestures) that she used to perform in the competitions. To me, it felt a little like Whatever Happened to Baby Renee , but the guys didn’t let on if they found it ridiculous.
There was no further tension between Jeff and Callum that night. At least not around here. They even got affectionate at one point, Callum rubbing the back of Jeff’s neck and squeezing his knee when I talked about the day we rented That Movie so Jeff could see if Jeremy and Callum were the same person. The more I’m around them, though, the more hopelessly different they seem. Jeff is open and vulnerable, but also abrasive and hyper, while Callum is affable and coolheaded and unrevealing to a fault. Opposites attract, sure, but there has to be something in common, doesn’t there?
Jeff called later that night, after Renee had gone to bed. I knew he’d do this, so I’d waited up for him. As usual, he just began talking without announcing himself.
“You
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