Crazy Love

Chapter 1 Friday morning, Billy was up at the crack of dawn again, impatient to be at Howie’s Garage, his temporary work place. He couldn’t wait to spend another day at the front desk, hidden behind the computer screen. From there, he could secretly stare at the beautiful mechanic with the long black hair while the man worked on cars all day. Every night this week, Billy had drifted to sleep listening to his Walkman, thinking of that mechanic’s serious face. Maybe his mother was right about him—he was a hopeless romantic. But today, he’d find some kind of an excuse to talk to that man. Feeling excited at the prospect, Billy quickly slipped into his favorite pastel jeans and combed his fingers though his messy blond locks. Leaving his bedroom, he crept down the sunlit carpeted hallway of the tiny Montreal apartment he shared with his roommate Francis. When Billy walked into his kitchen, he was surprised to see Francis sitting at the table, wearing the boxer shorts with the printed hearts his girlfriend Julia had bought him on Valentine ’s Day. Francis usually didn’t roll out of bed until noon these days. Since his car wreck four months ago, he’d been a little depressed about being stuck at home, in a leg cast. “Here you go, my fine man,” Francis said, handing Billy a cup of coffee over their cluttered kitchen table. He’d sprayed Billy’s coffee with whipped cream and stuffed a blue candle in it. “We’ve lived together for a year now. Can you believe it? Man, I still remember the first time we met. You in your white over-halls and Eurhythmics T-shirt, and me sitting there acting dumb because you were the first gay guy I’d ever met.” Francis leaned back in his seat and ran the tip of his finger along the cast molding his left leg. “So, happy roommate anniversary, Billy boy. I’m glad I let you move in with me.” “Let me? Well, isn’t that sweet? I’m deeply touched.” Billy blew out the candle which was sinking fast into the melting cream, then ruffled Francis’s soft brown hair. “Thanks…I guess.” They’d lived together for a year already? July last year, Billy had left his farm house out in the boonies, said goodbye to his radical feminist mother, quit his job as a bagger at the food mart, and had happily boarded a big old Greyhound at the town’s one-bus terminal, bound for adventure. Destination: Life Begins Here. But that had been a year ago. Where was the adventure he’d dreamed of? The big city wasn’t at all what he’d imagined it would be. It was overwhelming and he was lonelier now than he’d been back on the farm. Francis set his cup down on the table. “Look, I know I’ve been a nutcase lately. Thanks for being such an amazing roommate. Well, friend. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Billy. I’m just not cut out to sit around all day, and it gets to me, but I’m gonna try harder to be in a better mood, okay?” “Nah, don’t worry about it.” Billy slurped up the last of the whipped cream and smiled. “I love living with an angry straight man in a cast,” he joked. Then he gave Francis a more serious look. “You’re starting physiotherapy next week. Maybe that’ll help.” Francis worked on power lines for Hydro Quebec and was receiving his full salary while on sick leave, but the time off was getting to him. “Hey, are you leaving for work right now? It’s, like, six A.M.” Francis shot Billy a quick look before going back to staring at his cast. His brown eyes were even more puppy-like than usual. Ever since Julia had started working full time as a bank teller, Francis had been moping around a lot more and relying on Billy for entertainment. Thank God for the Atlanta Olympic games. Francis had been glued to the television screen for a week now. That was all he ever watched. “Yeah, actually I am,” Billy said, grabbing his Flintstones thermos out of the fridge. “There was a glitch in the program,” he lied. “I couldn’t fix it last night and I wanna be there early to figure it out before the garage opens.” He shut the fridge door with a hip. “You have no idea how loud that place gets sometimes. I can’t hear myself think.” “And those guys don’t give you any trouble?” Billy worked for a software company that sold invoicing programs to small businesses across the city, but Howie’s Garage was definitely the grittiest, most challenging place he’d ever worked in. “They don’t talk to me. They stay on their side of the glass. It’s pretty boring. I’m like those goldfishes in Chinese buffet restaurants people only notice when they’re waiting for a table.” Though Billy didn’t particularly enjoy the atmosphere at the garage, the idea of leaving this job tomorrow sent little shocks of despair through him every time he thought about it. He wouldn’t get to stare at his beautiful black-eyed mechanic anymore. He wished he knew the man’s name. Everyone called each other bro or dude in that place. But not Billy. Oh no, the guys there all called him Hey as though his name was a disease, and they usually gave him a probing look full of suspicion. He was the twenty-year-old gay guy in their midst. The strange animal they’d spent their lives trying not to encounter. He was the blue-eyed boy with the product in his blond hair and the immaculately clean finger nails. It was 1996—shouldn’t straight men be over themselves by now? “Well,” Francis said, giving him a long look, “you got balls showing up there with your gold earring, bleached blond hair, and Paula Cole T-shirt. You’ve got fag written all over you.” A little annoyed, Billy ran a hand through his hair. “I grew up around farm boys. I can handle a few mechanics. And don’t say fag. It irks me like you have no idea.” Francis blushed and stared down at his cast. “Sorry. Yeah, you’re right. I keep forgetting how much you hate that word. Sorry, Billy. Really.” “I have to educate you, right?” Billy winked playfully, though it always made him nervous to confront Francis about these things. Then again, Francis had made a lot of progress in the last year. “Anyway, the guys at the garage don’t come near me. They treat me like I’m toxic.” Every time Howie, the owner and his temporary boss, needed to speak with him, he’d stay on his side of the counter, craning his neck to see the computer screen, never daring to actually come around and stand close to Billy. But Billy didn’t mind it so much. The less attention Howie payed him, the more time he had to stare at his man undisturbed. His man? Boy, oh, boy, he was really losing touch with reality. “I have to go,” Billy said, excitement running through him. In the door, he turned to give Francis one last look. “Oh, and thanks for the whipped cream, dude. That wasn’t gay at all.” Francis laughed and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Have a good day, Billy boy.” Oh, he had a feeling he would.