The year was 1957. I was sitting at my usual booth at the Serenity Diner staring into my plate. I don’t know why I keep coming here, as my partner of the moment, Alan Martin, kept trying to distract me with nonsensical small talk.
Also, I kept staring at a woman who sat across the diner. She was with who appeared to be her boyfriend, but the man was apparently no good. I saw that he would rather play poker with his friends than pay attention to his girlfriend. I felt sorry for the woman; she had a huge headache she couldn’t get rid of. I myself had a headache, and that headache was trying to get my attention in the worst way.
“Seamus, dear, stop staring at that woman; you know women are just no good,” Alan said as he grabbed my hand. “Need I remind you of what happened to the last woman who wanted to hook up with you?”
I found myself glaring at him; how dare he speak about my last relationship as if he himself didn’t destroy it! I could have married Carolyn by now if HE didn’t come into the picture. “I would be careful not to mention Carolyn Woodard if I want to keep my head,” I said with a snarl on my face. “Besides, her father is a rich man. You’re lucky he didn’t have you tied up and thrown into the ocean for insulting his daughter like that.
“Oh Seamus, you know yourself,” said Alan. “You’re a gay man and that’s all you’re going to be. You don’t need a wife or children, not when you have me.”
What was that guy rambling about? I wanted to have a family as all my brothers and sisters did. It was my idiotic uncle Branislav’s fault that I ended up being gay; his twisted ways almost tore our family apart. (Plus, I had to bury several cousins and most of my aunts; but don’t ask me about that.)
I frowned, knowing that my relationship with Alan would never be accepted. I know the songs on the jukebox spoke about the love between a man and a woman, not two men. That wasn’t how it was done.
I stared at the woman again; she had apparently grown tired of watching her boyfriend and his friends playing poker and ignoring her. Within a few minutes, I saw her getting up from the table and leaving the diner.
I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to get rid of the headache known as Alan Martin. The sooner I got rid of him, the better.
Before I could stop myself, I left the diner and chased after the woman. I had to know her name.
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