The days have been hot. The nights have been hotter. A nightclub calling itself ‘Spectacle’ sits on the shady eastern edge of the town of Sunset Heights. My heart is running on fumes. I’m on the side burner. Simmering night after night in the heat of the laser show cutting through the faux smoke in the downstairs room of the nightclub. The stage calls, begging for another pilot to take over. The song plays. A nostalgic relief calms me. The beat takes the lead as I step onto the stage the moment it’s free. My eyes close as I begin to dance. It's like I can see the beats as motion and color washing over the area. Pulsing over me. I blink away the welling of reluctant tears. The song takes me away and elevates me.
I see silhouettes of patrons approaching me from each side. I see no form but the human. No gender but the admiration for life. I have to open my eyes just enough to thank and acknowledge their generosity. I feel the pull of hands aching to steal a touch of the taboo and the tug on my underwear. Those same hands leave behind tips of appreciation. I’m thankful. It’s not long before the songs switch up sending them on their way. I look around and realize I am alone again. I rejoice as I can close my eyes. Close me off from the worries of the world around me. The anxiety. The worry. The guilt. Again, hide from the world and be lost in the minutes of grace afforded me by the song. My muscles flex, arch and contract as I release each pose in revelation. There’s nothing more that I want from this final moment.
--Except him.
“...talked to him?” A voice cuts climbing over the other auditory distractions, calling me back to reality. “Gage... Gage!” I hear it but I need a moment to ground myself. The rush of voices and clatter of glass and ceramic dishware break up the consistency of the tune that I was trying hard to remain a part of. “Have you talked to Brandon, or is he still ghosting you?” Declan asked again.
I recoil from the question but answer nonetheless. “No, Brandon hasn’t sent a single text. No ‘hi’, no ‘bye’, no ‘fuck you’ even.” You would think that after a month, this would be the last thing to happen. It’s been nine days since I sent the text asking if we could get together and plan something fun for a weekend. He said he would call me that same night. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.
“That’s a shame.” After placing a two-dollar tip between my skin and the elastic of my underwear, Declan begins trading places with me, taking his position on the stage relieving me of my duties on the pole. Declan begins to flair and gyrates as I tend to collect rogue tips that journeyed off on a movement. “I’m sorry to hear that man. But maybe it’s for the best. You were starting to obsess over him a bit.”
The words sting me but I huddle up and leave my friend with a wink and a wave as I head to the back room of the lounge where the dancers prepare. I wonder whether his words are true. Maybe I am obsessed. All I can think about is him. Where he is. What he’s doing. Is he thinking about me? Beyond that, why does it matter to me? I mean we have only known each other for a couple of months. In reality, we’ve known each other since before I came to Sunset Heights, Washington. I used to be in an abusive long-term relationship with a man who was utterly and completely addicted to the pursuit of more money. I was stuck with him, dragged across the country to satisfy his pursuits. After a time, my heart became detached and sufficiently broken. I needed to get out. Start over in a new place. It was at this time I went on social media and searched for people in a far away and secluded town. That's when I found him. A circular profile picture depicting his face drew me in, his eyes and features looked kind, with a hint of sadness behind them. I sent him a message asking him his opinions on the area and if it was a good place to start a life. He responded with loyalty and joy for the town and that instantly sold me on the concept of moving here immediately. The sad part is, that he doesn’t remember me or that we spoke in the past. According to him, we met on a dating app.
“Hey, Gage, how’re you doing tonight? I see you’ve been making some money.” Stan the drag queen emcee greets me as I pass them heading toward the lounge pulling my cognition back from reminiscence.
“I’m good! Eighty bucks tonight. Not too shabby.” It’s hard to keep up this energy.
“That’s pretty good for a Monday. Hey, I haven’t seen Brandon here lately. Is he all good?”
I crack a smile as I’m glad for their concern. “Oh yeah, I guess Brandon just had some issues come up. I mean with having to take care of his grandmother and all.” That’s just the most convenient excuse I can come up with and I feel shame using it.
“Oh right, well bless her heart. I hope everything is fine. Next time you see him, tell him he still owes me a game of billiards.” Stan is caring and sweet. I don’t know how this place would hold itself together without them.
The only thing I could do is smile as I head to my locker to change and retrieve my things as I'm done performing for the night. I can smell the booze and sweet body odor wafting in the warm thickened air. As I gather my things, images fill my mind: The first time he came over for dinner. That smile I instantly fell in love with. When he took me out to ride electric bikes in the city. The joy in his voice still clings to my hearing. The day we spent at the community pool. The brightness and glare of the sun abstracted his physique. His silhouette burned into my vision. The subtlest details remind me of him, from shadows to the smell of fuel he’d use in his car.
I’m drawn again back to reality by the slamming of a nearby locker. Declan looks on me with concerned eyes. “Are you going to be, okay?”
“Of course. I’m fine...” Who am I kidding? I’m a mess. I close my locker as I secure everything in a black skater’s backpack.
“Well, with those circles under your eyes, it looks like you’ve seen better days. How long has it been since he ghosted you?”
“It’s been nine days.” But it feels like an eternity. Each day stretches longer and I get no respite. It's almost like I’ve forgotten how things were before he came into my life. “We were supposed to meet to talk about planning a small vacation for the both of us. Just another way to be together. But he never showed up or texted me back.”
Declan suggests. “You should call him. Maybe something happened to him.”
“I saw him on social media. So, he’s alive at the least.” I look away trying to escape the reality of the doubt. The thought of actually giving him a call on the phone sends shivers down my spine.
“That’s just rough.” Declan releases a snicker. “Just let it go? Though it has only been nine days. How long are you supposed to give something like this?”
“No, I can’t let it go. But even though it hurts me, I'll continue to give it time.” It seems easy for others to cast judgments on situations that don’t involve them. Though I understand where they are coming from.
“I just want to see you come through this with as little damage as possible,” Declan says with concern as he gathers his belongings. His concern seems genuine at best and I'm thankful for it.
The dancers trickle through the lounge as the club readies its closure. Every passerby has something to say. Some greet me. Everyone seems to have the same question. Where is Brandon? No matter where I hide or turn away, it seems the world won’t allow me to forget about him. I just want to relax and I can’t. I just want everything to be alright.
“Hey, let’s grab Fireball shots before they close up,” Declan says as he perks up.
I smile and nod. A drink sure couldn’t hurt at a time like this. Maybe it’ll ease my nerves. As we head out of the lounge and head back towards the final open bar where the bartender Sammy tends the station. “Hey, kids. Looking for rounds of fireball?”
Declan smiles. “You know us better than we know ourselves Sammy.”
“Hi Sammy.” I greet her with a sincere smile.
The bartender quickly pulls out two shot glasses and fills each one to the brim before handing them over on a napkin for them both. “Cheers kids! Oh, yeah Gage...”
Knowing the question that was to come next, Gage decides to answer immediately. “No, I haven’t seen Brandon in over a week.” This gives them an awkward pause as their eyes dart between each other. God, I am beginning to hate the question. I take the whole shot. It burns all the way down.
Declan takes his shot down quickly as he tries to bypass his brief discomfort.
“Well,” Sammy checks a watch on her right wrist. “That’s another day down for the count. Ya’ll be coming in tomorrow night?”
“Where else would I be?” Declan questions sarcastically. “Another day. Another dollar.”
Sammy chuckles. “Yeah, then the government comes for it... thank God ya’ll work under-the-table.” She feverishly checks her wristwatch again as she hurriedly dries off the remaining glasses. “Anyway, I got to finish this up so I can jet. Ya'll be safe out there.”
I wave goodbye as Declan and I make our way out the side exit leading out to the street. A wave of heat rushes over my body as I step out into the world. I imagine catching your scent off the wind. I look around in hopes that it may be real, then deep into the sky of another lonely night. But I'm alright. My attention is caught by a passing satellite. It's amazing what can take place right in front of your eyes. Shooting star. A natural wonder. --Being able to get to know you feel like watching a countless number of falling stars. Or a comet that passes once a generation.
Declan takes the lead several feet ahead of Gage. He lights up a cigarette before bellowing some of the smoke up into the open air. “It’s the Pacific Northwest. What’s with the heat wave?” I cringe at the concept of second-hand exposure moments before my attention wanders again. This time to a draft of a text message I have on my smartphone. Its read:
Hey, Brandon.
It’s been days since we spoke with each other. I was wondering if everything is okay and you’re doing well. I grow concerned maybe I did something to upset you. I hope that’s not the case but I'm willing to listen. Also, I meant what I said about caring about your well-being and that it does not affect your opinion of me. Personally, I’ve been thinking about what you had asked and I believe that I'm better having you in my life. All I felt like is that I wanted to know you more and I feel guilty about this. I didn’t expect that want to flourish into something uncontrollable. Something new. Something evolved. A new line of thinking... The cursor just lingers blinking at the end.
“Where I can’t think.” I whisper as I hold my thumb over the delete button. I delete the entire message. Just like all the others I have deleted before. So many messages never sent, feelings unrealized, notions forever to remain a mystery. I get scared of the reaction. Terrified of the response. So, I just never send them. It's fine. You can call me weak.
I look around and all the features of life are blurred. There's nowhere I can hope to be that will give me the silence I need to heal. The peace I long to find... so I can stop thinking of you. I know the pain it’ll bring but I'll know the calm that it can provide in the future. Remembrance. Your voice patters in the dark. The resonance fills my consciousness. The tones of exhilaration scream throughout my headspace. I close my eyes as I rub my temples with my fingertips circular in motion begging for relief. “You’re the one I want the most.”
“Were you saying something?” Declan takes a long drag from his cigarette as he twirls around with no real aim in the middle of the empty street. A free spirit.
I open my eyes to see a strange but familiar dirty-looking man in a ragged brown coat looking up and down at me with a judge mental gaze. “Oh, let me guess...” his voice is rough like that of a long-term smoker. He scoffs at my visage as he continues his remark. “You must be the flavor of July.”
“Excuse me?” is he referring to me in the negative? What does he mean by the flavor of July? “Is there something you want to say to me?”
“Dude, are you okay?” Declan notices the engagement and heads towards us. “Hey, is there something you need to say to my friend here?” I’m thankful my friend is still nearby.
The strange man just continues fuming past them and into the direction of the nightclub. “Yeah, be careful who’s lawn you shit on,” he says before stomping off in anger into the distant darkness.
“God, what a tool.” Declan sneers in the strange man’s direction. “What was that about?”
A memory dawned on me. A couple of weeks ago I was coming to Spectacle and saw Brandon gesturing to someone who looked a bit shady wearing a ragged brown coat. Could that man know something about Brandon? I mean, do I really have the right to know what’s going on? I'm not entitled. “I don’t know. But that man seems angry about something. I wonder...” is all I can do as I don’t have the energy to pursue him.
“Hey, is that?” Declan squints past Gage peering over the end of the sidewalk.
The street lamps flicker. Then I see it. A shadow standing down at the end of the sidewalk. The light behind them obscures their features. That familiar silhouette. That stance and physique. A hint of gasoline on the breeze. My heart begins to race. It can’t be, can it? A man comes into view. It's him. The man who just disappeared without a word for over a week. He walks closer approaching Gage holding three roses and a small box. A red, white, and yellow rose. It's like everything else fades away around me. I can hear each footstep clearly on the pavement as he approaches. This is real. Isn't it? --but he stops just a few feet away with a troubled look in his eyes. The moment of silence is crippling.
“Hey, Brandon.” I can’t help but smile and nervously bite my lip.
The only words in reply are the ones everyone hates to hear.
“--We need to talk.”