He walked off to the other end of the bar, bouncing and waving long, slender hands. I didn't know whether he was waving farewell to me or greetings to the willowy young men he was approaching. Placing an arm around the two he stood between, he spoke confidentially, then squealed a laugh in conclusion. The three of them looked in my direction.

Though I was puzzled and somewhat embarrassed, strange as it seemed, I was not angry. Annoyance had crept over me and was hastily extinguished by the prevalence of friendliness throughout the boisterous little bar. I was swaying on cloud nine, fueled by bourbon and anticipation. A thrilling fear of discovering an unknown was lurking everywhere.

"Give me another bourbon and water . . . and give the boy down there in the yellow scarf one, too-whatever he is drinking."

Before I had become fully aware of what I was doing, I had beckoned the bartender and given the order.

"Trying to fool me, huh?"

The young man was back at my side.

"I guess so." I still wasn't quite sure of what he meant.

"You know the saying 'it takes one to know one.' I didn't think I could be wrong. Thanks for the drink. Where are you from, Honey?"

"Florida. Pensacola, Florida."

"Oh, Navy! Love that seafood!"

His leg was pressing mine, under the bar. He had called me "Honey." So this was what I had heard whispered, for as far back as I could remember, as “queer." This was what Mr. Whatshisname, the old photographer back home, was. Everybody talked about him and pulled their little boys in off the streets when they saw him coming. He had gotten into some kind of trouble in a theatre toilet and there had been a big stink. This was what my brother Bill hated so intensely and mocked unmercifully. A "fairy!"

"My name is Wally, Honey. What's yours?"

"Ralph."

Wally was "queer," yet he looked little different from Bill or the boys I had gone to school with. He was not radically different in appearance, except for exaggerated lip and hand movements, from me, myself. A pang of shock, then nausea seized me.

"Where's the men's room?"

"Straight to the back. That's the only straight thing around here."

As I dabbed cold water on my feverish, throbbing brow, I was scarcely conscious of my surroundings. I didn't want to think. I shoved a Lifesaver in my mouth and decided that I was drunk. I would try not to think about all of this.. this strangeness, but when I had dried my face and hands on a paper towel and turned towards the door, reality came vividly back. Wally was standing in the men's room with his back blocking the door.

Though paralyzed with anxiety, I was quivering in my head, my heart, my powerless arms. He came and stood directly in front of me. Our heights were about the same and his eyes looked steadily and deeply into mine. A smile parted his full lips, revealing even, white teeth that gleamed brilliantly in the light of the unshaded electric bulb above the wash basin behind me. Gently, his arms encircled me and he kissed me full on the mouth.

I think I must have recalled some of the "fairy" jokes that had had little meaning when I had heard them from Bill, because everything else blacked out.

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