Jeffrey bit back his next question before it could spill out too. Do you think sexuality can rub off on other people? See, my little brother appears to be going steady with a man. I haven’t done a deep dive on their relationship yet, but I think…I might be getting another “little brother” in the near future.
Is that, Jeffrey might have asked, all my fault?
It was in junior high that he first realized he had a secret he could not tell a soul. To him, his female classmates squealing over him always felt like, well, just business. He had never experienced the rush of excitement his friends gushed about, either. It was only when he came to the aid of a male classmate being picked on by a creep—when his classmate squeezed Jeffrey’s hand and cried tears of gratitude for him—that he came to the only conclusion that remained, no matter how very uncomfortable that conclusion might be. He went out with girls, yes, but it always felt like business. He dated, sure. But he never went beyond that. No matter how far he went with a girl, it could never be more than just business.
Joachim put a hand to his chin and tapped a finger as he spoke. “Oh, let me see… I was six years old. He was the young man working at the gas station down the street. His biceps were e-nor-mous, and every time he used a fist to wipe the sweat from his forehead, ooh, a tingle ran down my spine. He was a stud.”
“You’re into buff guys?”
“Back then, I wanted to be a buff guy. Ended up not working out, and let me tell you, it takes some serious effort to not beef up too much now. It’d make it harder to dance.”
Speaking of dancing… Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. Instead of asking where all the money he paid for his stylist services was going, he pitched a curveball. “Hey. Do you plan on spending your whole life here, or what?”
“…Hmm, who knows? I don’t think that’s up to me to decide.” Joachim’s lips formed one beautiful arc. He said nothing more on the subject.
“True enough,” Jeffrey said with a know-it-all nod. His cheeks twitched in irritation, and he flopped back over the table.
“Well, come on. It’s no fair if I’m the only one who spills the beans,” said Joachim. “Tell me about your first crush.”
“…Oh boy, here we go.”
Jeffrey shut his eyes, hard. It wasn’t to block out the outside world. If anything, he wanted to stop the details of his private inner life from leaking out.
He smiled an almost-wicked smile, like something out of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, and crossed his arms.
“Sure, I’ve had crushes. I don’t remember how old I was when the first one happened. Either way, I’m taking that secret to the grave, so I’ll tell you about my second crush. He was our local delivery guy. He had this long hair that would bounce up and down every time he moved. I was mad about that.”
“What? You have a thing for my hair?”
“…Huh, now that you mention it, you do have similar hair styles.”
“Oh, you tease.”
Joachim slapped Jeffrey on the shoulder and flounced back over to the pole with a smile. Using one arm for support, he lifted himself into the air until he was parallel to the floor and completed a revolution of the pole. Jeffrey propped his chin in his hands and drank in the sight of Joachim’s long hair trailing behind him.
“Bravo. You’re beautiful,” he said.
“So I’m told. I have African and Scandinavian blood in my veins, and if I go back far enough, Indian and Southern European, too. All the beauty in the world has culminated to make me and my body. Yes, yes, you may now worship me.”
“You almost don’t sound like you’re joking.”
“Goodness, you really must be tired.”
“I have a good eye for beauty. I’ve seen so much beauty I’ve had enough of it.”
Joachim laughed, and Jeffrey understood how the helpless victims in the clutches of the Inquisition must have felt. The culmination of all the beauty in the world smiled crushingly—even devilishly—before relenting and donning a more socially appropriate smile.
“Thank you. Henceforth, I will accept payment for styling in the form of one oil field per month.”
“Sounds like I need to find a new job. I’ll have to be one of those guys who drills for oil in the Arabian desert.”
“Well, that should be good for you, shouldn’t it? Out in the desert, you’d have all kinds of experiences your rich, white brother would never dream of.”
In his mind, Jeffrey opened his eyes and contemplated what, exactly, an eye for beauty meant. A literal, physical eyeball that evaluated whether a certain individual could be considered beautiful? To have a good eye, then, was stating one had the right to judge another person’s beauty.
Jeffrey rose, walked to the pole, crouched to be at eye-level with Joachim hanging upside down, and smiled gently. “Sorry.”
“…No, I owe you an apology.”
“Really, this one’s on me. I’m sorry.”
“Goodness, if I snapped like that at an audience member, I’d lose my job on the spot. Joachim, you sweet little fool. What has gotten into you?”
“Hey, I have no plans of giving up on such a talented and affordable stylist. You still have more magic to work. Right? Come on. This Jeffrey guy I’ve told you about is only moving up in the world.”
Joachim’s polite smile dropped away to be replaced with a serious look of concern. Concern for Jeffrey. In his mind, Jeffrey closed his eyes once more. He wasn’t going to take Joachim up on that unspoken offer. No, not any further.
“It’s about time I get going,” he said, and he put an envelope of cash down on the table.
He turned to leave just as Joachim said, “You know what?”
It was better not to turn around, Jeffrey decided. He stopped moving. “What?”
“We should get dinner sometime.”
“…McDonald’s?”
“Anywhere. Take me to your favorite restaurant.”
Joachim’s words felt like a peace offering of sorts. Jeffrey turned to face Joachim, who was back on solid ground, and raised his hands, miming You don’t have to go that far.
Joachim returned the gesture. He opened his eyes wide. I mean it, they said.
“…I mean, sure,” Jeffrey eventually relented. “I’ll take you to my favorite place.”
“Ooh, I can’t wait! It’s a date. You’d better not expect me to pay, understand?”
Jeffrey smiled awkwardly. It felt like he was forcing Joachim to accept his apology. However, Joachim smiled as brightly as if he were an actor in a play, so Jeffrey, too, recited his own lines. “Say, we’ve known each other for a year now, and this is the first time we’ve ever gone out to eat.”
“Oh, really? That’s so funny.”
“Isn’t it? I’m glad to be alive. Glad to have you here, too.”
“Amen to that, brother.”
When he saw Joachim’s smile, Jeffrey realized his feet had stopped and weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Joachim must have noticed this, too, but ever the master actor, he turned back to the pole and gave Jeffrey a reason to stay.
“Let me show you one final trick as a treat. What’ll it be?”
“…Do the spinning thing.”
“Which spinning thing? There are lots of spin moves.”
“The one that looks like a falling paper cutout.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you mean a body spiral?”
With a flick of a finger, Joachim pulled up a song on his phone that Jeffrey had heard numerous times before, the moody male singer crooning about love. Joachim wrapped himself around the pole and practically floated up it. Supporting himself with a single arm and leg, he described a fluttering spiral in his revolution, like a figure made of paper. Unlike paper, Joachim’s spin and twirling did not end with him tumbling to the floor. So long as he had the power in his limbs to keep himself suspended, he could stay halfway up the pole indefinitely.