Monsters—from the Id!

The downside of remote work is that you can end up spending too much time at a desk and not enough time moving around. That’s why I was thankful that I lived a five-minute walk from the lake shore. Shortly after I’d logged off for the day, I was walking along the seawall, admiring the results of last year’s art contest before the park district painted over the whole wall for this year. I picked a spot and sat down to watch the waves. It was still a little early in the year for people to flock to the lake in droves, so I enjoyed the relative quiet.

A few minutes into my zoning-out session, I felt eyes on me. I looked around and saw a kid—okay, a young man probably no older than twenty-one—with curly brown hair and bangs almost reaching his eyes. He looked a bit skinny, but the arms peeking out from under his t-shirt showed some clear definition. I was impressed to see he was wearing shorts. I thought I was the only guy around who’d wear shorts when the temperature dropped below sixty-five degrees. He looked like he was checking me over, probably amazed that someone my age would choose the look I was sporting.

I gave the kid a smile and a nod. He did the same, and I turned back toward the lake. A few minutes later, someone behind me said, “Hey.” I turned around and found the kid again.

No sense in being rude. “Hi,” I said.

“Can I sit here?”

“Sure.”

He parked himself next to me—very next to me, in fact, with his arm almost touching mine. We sat in companionable silence for a bit. I went back to watching birds soaring over the waves, but in my peripheral vision, I caught him still watching me. As I started to wonder what was so fascinating about me, he finally said, “I’m Ryan.”

“Mike,” I said. We shook hands, and as we did, he licked his lips, and I thought I saw goosebumps pop up on his arms.

“Do you like guys?” he asked.

I could tell where this was heading. “Depends on what you mean by ‘like,’” I said, though I figured it didn’t take a master detective to figure out the answer.

He blushed. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “Yeah, I’m gay.”

He nodded. I waited, knowing what was going to come next. He didn’t disappoint. “What kind of guys do you like?”

I decided to save an hour of circling the subject. “It usually depends on chemistry, but I’m not looking for anything.”

“Nothing?”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I have a husband already.”

“That doesn’t mean much these days,” he said. “Open relationship?”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, since I’m not interested.” I looked him in the eyes (which turned out to be brown) and, choosing the direct route again, I asked, “Are you looking for a hookup or cash?”

“I just like older men.” He blushed again. “Look, I’m legal.” He pulled out his wallet.

I held up my hand. “I believe you.”

“I’m nineteen. Too young for you?”

I shook my head. “It isn’t your age. I’m just not interested in hooking up.”

“Oh.”

We went back to sitting in silence.

“Can I ask you something?” he finally said.

“Sure.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifty-five.”

“Are you out to your parents?”

I didn’t bother telling him that Dad had died in 2020 and Mom had died in 2018. “Yeah. Why?”

“How did they take it?”

This conversation wasn’t going where I’d thought it would. Instead of answering, I said, “I’m guessing you haven’t come out yet.”

Ryan looked away from me and out over the lake. “I don’t know if I can,” he said.

“Why not?”

“They’d lose it.”

“It’s 2025.”

Ryan shrugged. “They’re religious. Very religious.”