One for the Road
Copyright May 2012, Sofia Bane
I knew the first time I met him that Henry was going to be my first.
Growing up gay and oh-so-closeted in small town Tennessee fortifies someone, and I recognized something in the way he acted that mirrored something in the way I acted. Or maybe I was hopefully projecting on this strong, confident man to boost my own ego. I was twenty-one then, he was thirty, and we first met gathered around a bar’s television airing the football game. At his team’s first touchdown, he whooped and clinked beer bottles with everyone around him. When he got to me, he grinned. “Welcome, kiddo.”
“Paul,” I introduced myself, clasping his hand.
“Henry,” he returned. “I know who you are, I worked on your dad’s car last month. Violinist, off to college, right?”