Chapter Thirty-Three
Billy and Jeannine Quinn sat on the couch in the front parlor poking fun of Neil Bingham. Frustrated, Neil had repeatedly tried calling Ted Dorsey on his cell phone. Neil’s plans were to catch a flight out of Boston’s Logan Airport that night and he was nervous Ted had gone home and forgotten their arrangement.
“You’ll be stuck in Newbury,” Billy Quinn joked. “Now you’ll have to move back to your hometown.”
Neil rolled his eyes at Billy as Tony walked into the front parlor looking like he had just had the wind knocked out of him. Moments before, Ezekiel had told him that he and Tom had been partners. “We were as good as married,” Ezekiel had said.
Ezekiel’s frankness hit Tony hard. What he had wanted to hear instead was that his aunt, Gabriella and Patella had misunderstood Ezekiel earlier in the day, and that Tom and Ezekiel were merely close friends and not, as Ezekiel asserted, a homosexual couple. Struck dumb, Tony said nothing in reply to Ezekiel. He simply left the kitchen in a daze.
Now, in the front parlor, his face revealed a struggle to understand what Ezekiel had meant—Did he mean that Tom and he just lived together? Or did he really mean they were … homosexuals? Just the idea of it—
“Tony?” Jeanine Quinn asked, concerned by his off-kilter expression. “Are you okay?” She pushed closer to her husband, freeing the seat on the couch next to her. “Here, sit down. Rest. You don’t look good.”
Tony stood in the center of the room, shoulders stooped over his heavy chest. He slid one hand into a pocket. The other hand still had the dishtowel wrapped loosely around it. “No thanks, Jeannine, I don’t need to.”
“You burned your hand grabbing that log, didn’t you?” Billy asked.
“My hand? That’s nothing.”
Neil Bingham gave up trying to reach Ted Dorsey, snapped his phone shut and declared, “He probably just had to run home first. He’ll be back.” Ted was too reliable to blow him off. He leaned against the corner of a table and relaxed, turning his attention to Tony as well.
Tony wanted to blurt it all out, tell them all about Tom. But at the same time he wanted to protect them, have them continue to believe the great and honorable things they thought about Tom. Things he was sure they could never believe again once they lumped Tom into that stereotype of the queen, the flamer, the amoral fag—any of it. Honestly, he felt like crying—his third time today.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeannine grew more concerned. Her husband was just like this; she had to drag things out of him. For all she knew, Tony had burned that hand really badly and needed to go to the hospital.
“I guess so,” Tony’s voice betrayed him. One more push from Jeannine and he would tell them Tom was gay.
“Something’s wrong, Tony.” Jeannine was determined.
“Tony!” Elizabeth suddenly appeared in the living room doorway, hands on her hips. “Have you seen my husband?”
Tony turned slowly and looked at his cousin. “He’s in the kitchen with that guy, Ezekiel.” She must have known Tom was gay, he thought. Why didn’t they tell me? Do they think I’m that close-minded? Am I?
“The kitchen?” Elizabeth repeated.
“Elizabeth?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Elizabeth fired back at him, indignantly. She thought he’d heard about the child and wanted to head off any questions with harshness, to the tune of None of your business!
“Tell you what?” she impatiently repeated.
“That Tom was gay.”
“What?”