Memoirs of a Badman is a blog about a gay family in rural Alaska. The blogger, identified only as Z, writes about life with his bipolar husband K, and K’s young daughter A. In this post, a homophobic neighbor sees that Z and K are going through a difficult time and offers support and advice, with unexpected consequences:

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Have you ever got the best advice from your hater?

That might not be the exact thing that happened to me, yet it was pretty much the same.

On a pretty frigid sunny (or sunny frigid) winter noon… well, it was past 3 so it must have been afternoon. Anyway, me and A were out enjoying ourselves. Actually she was trying her brand new bike with Pinkie sitting in the front seat aka the yellow plastic basket.

As usual I was half mad, half worried and slightly happy sharing the joy of riding something as cool as a pink new bike with little A.

My reasons were clear: after long hours of negotiating (read begging on my knees), K’s former boss accorded giving a job to K. Since no one is crazy enough to come to an icy hell at this time of year when the temperature tends to go below 0, K’s job was still vacant, so in reality he got his old job back. So the following day K was going to work after several jobless months and to me he looked anything but ready.

Firstly, most of the weekend he was sick with stomachache.

Secondly, he was still sleeping 12+ hours a day.

Thirdly, he looked extremely depressed.

Lastly, he made me worried and helpless not knowing what to do.

To sum it up, I knew there was something I could do, however I had no idea what it was.

Deeply consumed in my thoughts, we reached A’s favorite place, the Pinkie’s park.

Excitedly she ran to the play-ground, ignoring the possibility of her bike hitting the ground, so I had to loosen my thoughts and cover the distance to grab the bike before experiencing any close contact with the ice beneath. Thanks God I’m not that old yet and I can still react quick enough.

The night in AK approaches fast, besides the darkness and cold is not something you want to face often, thus we had to return home soon.

Walking down the street, oblivious to my surroundings, the only thing that could catch my attention was the tires screeching on the icy road.

“Hey Z, it’s gettin dark, let us give you a ride.” The driver said stopping a few inches away from A’s bike. It was our neighbors.

Though the lady is extremely friendly, her husband is so different and amuses me to no end. Before going to Boston, he looked like one of the gay-bashing crowd, however, since our return, he’s become unbelieving friendly. The reason is still unknown but I will share as soon as I find out.

With no intention of turning into ice blocks, I accepted their offer. 10 minutes later, A and pinkie were back to their carrot party and the couple was sitting on the warm and cozy couch, ready to taste the new recipe I made for lunch, salmon sushi rolls.

K didn’t like it but A absolutely loved it so I needed more volunteers to decide on making it again or not.

******

“Why don’t you seduce him?” E, the neighbor, blurted out while helping me with cleaning up.

“Excuse me?” I was pretty sure we were not on the same page.

“K’s your husband, isn’t he?”

“Not here. Anyway, what’s your point?”

“As far as I know there’s no husband-wife role/boundary in gay relationships, right?”

I nodded.

“So what are you waiting for? You don’t think it’s his responsibility to always initiate everything, do you?”

“Initiate what? You don’t have any idea what you are talking about. I’m giving him some time and a little space. That’s it.”

I shrugged my shoulders and started covering the plates with washing liquid (maybe too much of that).

“You are letting him go, losing him. If you’re not willing to do anything on your own, me and H (his wife) are more than willing to help.”

“Correct me please. Wasn’t it you a while ago who asked your wife not to ever talk to the queer couple living next door? Weren’t you the one who left your garbage at our front door? Weren’t you calling us names not long ago? Should I continue or is it enough?”

He went quiet and I bit my lower lip not to say something I might regret later, rolled up my sleeves and dug deep in the sink to find the invisible spoons.

But the silence was cutting deep into my conscience. I knew I didn’t have to be mean to the guy who tried hard to be nice, but I was pissed off with all the people pretending to be nice to us when they were all S.O.B.s.

“Sorry for harassing you guys, I didn’t know you well at the time and misjudged you.” He broke the silence standing close to me. Too close actually that he was right in the middle of my private space, shredding it to pieces. I could feel his warmth and smell and it felt so good I wanted to lean my head on his shoulder, I wanted to feel his skin under mine, I wanted to smell him, taste him, devour him…………….

WHAT THE FUCK AM I THINKING? I nearly crashed my head against the cabinet when he rested his hand on my shoulder.

“My wife adores you guys and missed you a lot. It’s good to have you back, we thought you weren’t coming again. She will feel devastated to lose you or see you break-up.”

I almost didn’t hear his explanation, still shocked of my own thoughts… God what was wrong with me? I’ve never fancied another guy, let alone a homophobic one.

******

Follow the adventures of Z and K, their daughter, relatives, and neighbors in rural Alaska on the blog Memoirs of a Badman.