Happy (8 page)

“Nah.” Peter shook his head, like he dealt with this all the time. “She

may not look it sometimes, but she’s a great worker.” He used his knife to

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Chris Scully

43

slather a wedge of pita with one of the dips. “You have to try this one. It’s

new on the menu. Feta cheese and hot peppers.”

Louie about died when Peter held it out to him, like he was going to

feed him or something. He was aware of Adam watching them with interest

from across the table, so he took the offering cautiously, his fingers brushing

Peter’s in the process. They tingled from the brief contact. He shoved the

entire wedge into his mouth, barely tasting the spicy concoction.

“Mmm, good,” he mumbled as he tried to swallow past his dry throat.

As if that was the signal, the other three all dug into the platter.

“Pete, why is your mother giving us the evil eye?” Adam asked

curiously after a few minutes.

Louie craned his head and saw the unhappy looking woman scrutinizing

them from behind the bar. This had to be Peter’s mom. Only a Greek mother

could glare so effectively.

Her hair was a brassy shade of blonde that could only have come from

a bottle, cut short and styled around her ears, and anchored in place with

enough hairspray to survive a wind tunnel. Like many Greek matrons of a

certain age, she wore the requisite black knee-length skirt and accompanying

blouse. The buttons strained across her imposing bosom. Actually, imposing

was the perfect word for this woman. He knew in his gut that he was the

focus of her attention.

“I don’t know,” Peter replied.

“It’s because of me,” Louie murmured. He gulped as she strode over

to their table.

“You?” Joe asked. “Why—”

“Hey, Ma,” Peter interrupted. “Do you know Demetra’s brother, Louie?”

Louie forced a pleasant smile to his lips. “Hi, Mrs. Georgiou. It’s nice

to meet you.”

“I speak with you,
Panagiotis
,” she ordered in Greek, pointedly

ignoring Louie’s greeting.

Beside him, Peter tensed. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Now.” She stalked away, leaving the table silent. Louie wanted to

crawl under it and disappear.

Peter carefully laid his napkin on the table and stood up. “I’ll be right

back,” he said. “Keep eating.”

But the delicious food tasted like ash in Louie’s mouth as he watched

Peter trail after his mother. It looked like his perfect afternoon was over.

FIVE

Peter followed his mother through the back door leading to the

storeroom and emergency exit. She was angry. He could tell that much by

the set of her shoulders and the march of her heels on the scuffed tile floor.

Once they were away from the diners and somewhat private, she whirled

around.

“Why are you with that boy?” she demanded, pointing her finger in

his face.

“Who? Louie?”

“He is no good for you.”

Peter recoiled. No good? Louie seemed great. “You don’t even know

him. He’s Demetra’s brother.”

His mother made the sign of the cross and mumbled something about

sin and eternal damnation. He stiffened. It hadn’t always been like this. Sure

they went to the Orthodox Church every week—everybody did—but this

devotion of hers was new, worsening after Pop’s heart attack. Now there

were weekly bible study meetings, and extra services on holy days, and

lengthy visits with the new priest, Father Theo.

“Do you know what people will say when they see you together?” she

asked. “You with no wife. They already talk.”

Peter’s confusion cleared. Was that her problem? She was worried

what her friends thought? He’d known it was only a matter of time before

those rumors started to fly: a single man his age, living with his parents. His

palms began to sweat. If she only knew. At least he could reassure her it

wouldn’t be an issue with Louie. “He’s just a friend, Ma.”

She crossed herself again. “His poor parents. No wonder they spend

all their time in Greece. You should not see him again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I will,” Peter replied without thinking.

She slapped him.

The shock of it hurt him more than the actual touch. He hadn’t been

belted since he was seventeen years old and had gotten careless with the

swear words.

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45

“Oh,
Panagiotis
,” she cried, immediately reaching out an arm. “I—”

Instinctively, Peter reared back. Her face crumpled then, and she

burst into tears, throwing herself against his chest, begging his forgiveness.

Peter stood motionless. Were the tears real or part of a ploy to garner

sympathy? Lord knew she’d done that once or twice before. But this time

he didn’t care.

As the shock wore off, anger took its place. He loved her, but she’d

gone too far this time.
You know what
,
Ma
? he wanted to shout in her face.

If that’s what you’re worried about, you’re too late. I’ve kissed a man. I’ve

already had another man’s cock in my hand. And I liked it.

But of course he couldn’t say that. It would kill her. And it didn’t

matter anyway. Nothing of any real consequence had happened with Joe.

And it had been years since that one time with Jason. There was no sense in

bringing it up now.

He took a deep breath and grasped her by the shoulders. “This has to

stop, Ma,” he said carefully. “I’m a grown man. You’re stifling me. You can

pick my girlfriends. You can even pick my career. But I’ll be damned if I let

you pick my friends.”

He spun on his heel and stalked away. He was tempted to walk right

out and keep on walking until he was as far away from this place as possible.

But he had friends waiting for him. He slowed and took a deep breath in

an effort to calm down before he returned to the table. Apparently it didn’t

work, because Louie took one look at his face and tried to slide out of the

booth. “It was nothing,” Peter assured him, quickly blocking his exit. “Just

some mix-up with a vendor.”

Louie’s eyes called him a liar. “I should go,” he said.

“Why? Look, the spanakopita is here.” Peter noticed the golden brown

spinach pie hadn’t been touched in his absence.

“Peter,” Louie grumbled. “Don’t make a fuss.”

“You’re the one making a fuss. I ordered this for you. Eat.” Peter slid

onto the bench seat, which forced Louie to move back. He huffed in defeat

but left a wide berth on the seat between them. Peter immediately closed

the gap in case Louie tried to escape again, and began doling out wedges of

spanakopita.

Louie’s eyes narrowed in warning as their hips touched, and he pulled

away, but he couldn’t go far. In the end he ended up crowded against the

wall, silently poking at the spanakopita with his fork.

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46

“Everything okay?” Adam asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Fine.” Peter raised the back of his hand to his cheek. She hadn’t

really hit him hard enough to leave a mark, but he still felt as though he’d

been branded. He signaled Annie to bring another round of beer. He had to

work in another couple of hours, but if he ever needed a drink, it was now.

“I don’t get it. Why does your mom have such a hate-on for Louie?”

“I’m gay,” Louie said softly, not looking up from his plate.

Joe frowned. “I don’t get that kind of reaction.”

“She, ah, doesn’t know about you guys,” Peter mumbled into his beer,

unable to look his friends in the eye. He might have neglected to mention it

to his family.

“Peter!” Adam exclaimed.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” Louie said with a shake of his head. “It’s

me. The fact that
I’m
gay. In the Orthodox Church, it’s not only a sin, it’s a

perversion in need of correction.”

Joe snorted. “This coming from the country that practically invented

homoeroticism. Naked Olympic games? Greco-Roman wrestling?”

Louie cracked a smile. “I know, right?”

“It’s a different world,” Peter explained, focusing his attention on

stripping the label from his new beer bottle. That rock was back on his

chest; it might have eased up for a few hours, but it never went very far. This

time it felt like the size of a boulder. “This is a church that still frowns upon

marrying outside the faith.”

“Coming out was almost as hard for my family as it was for me,”

Louie added. “Maybe harder. Even if my parents accept me, even if my

priest accepts me, there are other factions who don’t. Peter’s parents and

mine know each other. They go to the same church. They’re all part of the

same community. People talk. Gossip.”

People like his mother.
Peter turned and looked Louie in the eye. “And

you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged. “It’s the way things are. Do I like it? No, of course not.

But I’m not going to undo two thousand years of theology. All I can do is

live my life in a way that makes me happy and hope that things will change

in time.”

Peter swallowed.
What would that be like? To do what you wanted?

What made you happy?
He didn’t even know what that was. He lost himself

in thought, letting Joe and Adam and Louie carry the conversation as they ate.

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47

Peter finished his second beer and debated a third. But the afternoon

in the sun must have dehydrated him a bit because he was already feeling a

slight buzz. He switched to water. At some point, he draped his left arm along

the low backrest behind Louie’s shoulders. The tips of his fingers might have

even brushed Louie’s neck occasionally, entirely by accident.
There. Take

that
,
Ma
, he thought. He felt her eyes boring into him from the opposite side

of the restaurant, but he didn’t care. He refused to look her way.

Actually he
couldn’t
look her way because he was far too mesmerized

by the play of lean muscles in Louie’s arms every time he lifted his beer or

his fork. He wore another sleeveless shirt, and it showed off wide golden

shoulders and the tufts of dark hair at his armpits.

He and Louie both wore shorts, and every time one or both of them

shifted, Peter was vividly aware of the gentle friction of hair-roughened leg

against his own. And there seemed to be a lot of shifting to his muddled

thinking. The sensation was so intriguing, his mind unwittingly began

conjuring up thoughts of how that might feel in other places. Like say two

hairy chests rubbing together. No, Louie’s chest had been smooth. Except

for the few hairs that encircled his belly button and disappeared beneath the

waistband of his shorts. Peter had had a good look earlier today.
Twice.
Did

Louie wax? Or shave?

“Still with us, Pete?”

“Huh?” Peter jerked out of his brain fog to find everyone staring at him.

“Where did you go?” Adam asked. His expression was innocent, but

for some bizarre reason Peter had the feeling he knew exactly where his

mind had been. His face grew hot.

“Sorry. Daydreaming. Plotting my revenge on the courts. What did

I miss?”

“I was just saying that since Louie is apartment hunting, you should

go with him—vet the neighborhood before he moves in and discovers a

crack house on the corner. But it seems you’ve already got that covered.”

The teasing glint in Adam’s eyes made Peter uneasy.

“You don’t have to,” Louie was quick to say. His jaw was tight, his

voice clipped. As close as he was, Peter felt the tension radiating off the

other man.

He was angry.

Shit. A flood of uncontrollable panic rushed through Peter’s gut.

Things had been going so well, and then his mother had to ruin it.

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48

“I don’t mind,” Peter insisted. “Really. It’ll be fun.”

Louie looked like it would be anything but fun for him. He mumbled

some excuse about having to leave, and pointedly got to his feet.

With a quick glance at his watch Peter realized he needed to run home

and shower and change or be late for work. “Me too.”

With promises to get together on the next game night, Adam and

Louie exchanged numbers and they parted on the sidewalk in front of the

restaurant. Louie declined Joe’s offer of a ride in favor of walking home, but

before Peter could say he’d tag along, he was off with a final wave.

He turned to chase after Louie, but Adam’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Be careful, Peter,” he warned.

Peter blanked his face. “Of what?”

“I think you know,” he replied cryptically before rejoining Joe.

A feeling of unease coiled in Peter’s belly. He pushed it aside and

chased after Louie.

Louie was several blocks ahead of him, clearly still pissed, and Peter

had to jog to catch up. He was slightly winded when he reached him.
How

sad was that?
He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know the other man

was angry. “I’m sorry about my mom,” he ventured. “The way she acted.”

“You don’t need to apologize for other people, Peter. They’re from a