EXES AND OH'S

This Guy's In Love With You

Everything looked exactly the same. White walls, maple floors, bold-colored furnitures in mustard, tangerine and turquoise blue shades, practical but chic modular fixtures all with the Bauhaus aesthetic - the overall clean and minimalist style really has a timeless appeal. I used to hate how our house looked like, because it kinda reminded me of the Roman Polanski-Sharon Tate residence in Beverly Hills where the infamous Manson Family murders took place. But now that I'm already an adult, I have more appreciation for this kind of 70's interior vibe. Tim and Phil really has great taste. And besides, this is my home - the place where I first felt absolute belonging, and pure, unadulterated love and care from my dads.

My heart feels warm whenever I'm in here, like I'm somehow... complete. I think that's what makes a true home, after all. It's supposed to be a place where you feel loved, appreciated, safe.

A smile crosses my face, feeling an awful dose of nostalgia all of a sudden. I really should be coming home more often. Maybe doing so could somehow alleviate all the sadness and confusion I'm feeling. 

I've always been an advocate for change, or at least the good, progressive kind. But if there's one thing in the world I wouldn't change in my life, it's Phil and Tim. They really are the irreplaceable, good constants in my life - they're my spark of hope. I've never given them an easy time since they got me out of foster care. Hell, I've always been angry, rebellious, and against the drain - but they never gave up on me. Ever heard of the song All Things Must Pass by George Harrison? If my dads were a song, they'd be it.

I shake off all the nostalgic sadness, and let myself get in the happy party vibe brought by the indistinct buzz of conversation of the very few guests. And no, not everyone in the room is gay. I'm also thankful that Phil is the one who's in charge of the music today. 'Cause if it was Tim, he'd probably be have everyone drunk dancing already to Chic's Le Freak. 

Phil had exquisite taste in music, I'd like to think I got my music vibe from him. While Tim's was, well, disco fun - Abba, The Trammps, Earth, Wind & Fire, Gloria Gaynor, Patti LaBelle, The Village People, The Weather Girls, and of course, the frickin' Bee Gees. So fucking camp. But hey, waking up to Sunday mornings seeing my dads lip-syncing, twirling, and writhing to Dancing Queen was such a lovely sight.

"This is a really nice place your parents got." Levi complimented, pulling me out of my happy thoughts. He looked around the parlor room, his lips curved into a smile. I wonder if he meant what he said. This guy is bad at sarcasm because he's such an idiot. It's hard to comprehend if what he's saying is an insult or a compliment.

Well, my dads' house doesn't really sit in a huge space, but it's got its own charm and character. Great neighborhood, too. And honestly, who gets lots of space in New York? Probably just this Lord Baron Levi Archfiend and his rich-ass family.

"Meh." my super thrilled reply. I raise my third mimosa flute to my mouth, tip it against my lips, and drink half of it in one go. Dear Lord, one more of this and Levi and I might have sex again in my childhood room upstairs. I better stop before I hit my horny drink number.

"Charlie, I'm being in my best behavior. Why are you still upset with me?" He looks at me and pouts like a sad, wounded puppy. "Can you try and stop being such a grinch? It's your dad's birthday, for God's sake."

I look up at Levi, giving him a menacing deadeye. "Well, I didn't remember inviting you here," I mumble, placing the champagne flute on top of the marble fireplace's mantel. "And you're freaking me out acting all sweet and nice and polite! I'm just - I'm just not used to all of this!"