Take the Lead by Johnny Diaz

Author:Johnny Diaz [Diaz, Johnny]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

WHAT… is… this?

I’m standing in front of my bedroom mirror, getting dressed for work on Monday morning, when I notice something white, no, something gray, on my chest. I step closer to the mirror and study my chest. Oh no! It has finally happened. A gray hair has sprung up on my chest. Correction—make that two gray hairs right in the middle of my chest.

I yank them out and hold them up to the light. Each strand is scraggly and curly and… ugh! I glance down at my chest again and scan for more grays. I don’t see any others. Mission accomplished. Oh wait. I’m wrong again. There’s a tiny strand near my right nipple. I imagine all my black chest hairs quickly morphing into a sea of gray. Will my chest look like the top of Anderson Cooper’s head in a year or two? Will I have to resort to buying chest-hair dye?

I do have some grays above and around my ears, but my hair is predominantly dark-brown. I also keep it short so the salt isn’t as obvious as the pepper. But gray chest hair is a whole other matter. I instantly flash to visions of hairy old men with their tropical shirts unbuttoned to their navel, revealing huge clumps of white hair on their torso. These are the same men who walk around a cruise ship with a drink in one hand and a cigar in another while ogling every guy or girl that flounces by.

I won’t let my chest turn into a white carpet. If any more grays pop up, I may have to start trimming. I can understand why so many older gay men like Harrison Ford or Mark Harmon trim their chest or shave it. They are cloaking their gray hairs. I quickly check down there for any others. So far, the pubic coast is clear, but it’s official. I am becoming a gray gay.

I slip into my corduroy pants, a white T-shirt, a light green cardigan, and my brown shoes. I fix my hair in the mirror and grab my black pea coat. I also take a chocolate and peanut butter protein bar from my kitchen cabinet before slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder as I head to work.

As I walk to the subway stop on this chilly morning, the protein bar in my mouth, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I smile when I see that it’s a text message from Craig.

Hey, cutie. I have a lot of schoolwork today. I’ll come over this weekend. Miss you and thinking of you. XOXO. Craig. By the way, read today’s paper. There’s a front-page story that will be of interest to you.

As I power walk to the subway stop with a pack of other harried commuters, I quickly text message Craig back.

No worries. Have a great day, smiley. Can’t wait to see you, and of course I’ll read the paper. :-D

Once inside the subway stop, I wave my commuter pass in front of the entry machine, and I pass through the turnstile.

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