Reality is perceptual and perpetual.

He should have stayed in the Air Force. He hadn't liked it but he'd at least been good at it. He didn't much like his life either and he certainly wasn't good at IT.

.

Norman was too sweet and considerate to be a part of Rob's life. The older man could see that something was wrong but he wouldn't pry. He already knew that Rob was prone to moods because that was another thing Rob Berry excelled at. Carrying around a darkness that he wouldn't share with others. If he didn't acknowledge the misery and despair he could almost pretend that he was okay.

There was one secret that he'd never share with anyone. Rob Berry believed in God. An angry God that he had, somehow, pissed off extremely at some point.

.

At the end of January he narrowly avoided meeting death again.

.

Curt Waichovsky, another bro, had been hired on to replace Derek Carpenter who was fired after getting busted on a domestic battery charge. One afternoon Waichovsky used a fork truck instead of the crane to lift a bundle of pipes from a flatbed. That was a straight no-go because the pipes were only held to the pallet with plastic straps. Those straps loosened in transit because the flatbed's heavy canvas straps didn't prevent pipes from moving against each other. The crane was always used because those bundles weighed a couple tons and nobody with a brain expected plastic straps to hold.

Rob had been getting a new pair of gloves from the tool locker when he heard the snap and the sound of metal on metal. He instinctively dove towards the trailer and rolled under it just before the falling pipes crashed into and demolished the tool locker. The ringing of metal on concrete was deafening and he could see sparks as he scooted further beneath the trailer.

"What the fuck? What the fuck? Where's Berry?"

"Here!" He'd shouted as he pushed a pipe away with a foot. "I'm under the trailer!"

"Holy fuck! Nice reflexes dude!" The trucker said as he helped Rob out from underneath and to his feet. "Thought you were gonna be paste!"

"Dude I'm so fucking sorry! I'm sorry! Fuck, man! Fuck! You okay? Fuck! I'm sorry!"

"Ronnie, take dumbfuck there over to occupational and get him drug-tested" Big T said and glared at the mess. He looked to the trucker. "Your truck take damage?"

"Don't think so. You good, my man?" The driver said to Rob and then went to inspect his trailer. "Never saw nobody try to fork them off before!"

"You'll never see it here again either." Big T said and turned his eyes to Rob. "You okay, son?"

"Yeah. I'm good." Rob said as his eyes took in the caved in tool locker. "I got the gloves I needed. I should get back to work."

"An idiot nearly killed you." Big T said and looked from the mess to Rob. "Take the rest of the day off. With pay. Getting killed ain't part of the job description. Go on. When Curt gets back he can do your work as well as his. Go on. Go home. Enjoy your afternoon."

.

He walked home, walked in the front door and, without answering any questions, led Norman into the bedroom. The threat of death, his proximity to it, had only sunk in on the way home, and now he needed to be alive. When the passion had returned him to his place amongst the living he told Norman about Garrett.

"That's what yer funk's been over?" Norman said and brushed back Rob's sweat drenched hair. "Ain't no business o' his who ya fuck, babes. Ain't like he asked and you lied."

"I should have told him. I love you! I should have said something!"

"Baby, yer been gay alla, what, three months?" Norman said and looked straight through Rob's eyes to his heart. "I been gay my whole life but ain't like I announce that ta everyone I meet. Yer cousin seemed more concerned 'bout yer being sober and good on him fer that!"

"It's true that I'm still not used to being gay. Or bisexual or whatever it is I am."

"You're you baby. You. That's all really matters."

"I didn't want Garrett thinking I was gay! I was ashamed!"

"Ya know as a human yer allowed to make mistakes, right? Ya do realize that life ain't simple? We wouldn't be needing religion if everything was simple and it was just right or wrong with no shades between."

"I shoulda told him!"

"But ya didn't so that's done." Norman said and gently ran two fingers over Rob's cheek. "It don't bother me none but I know you'll let it bother you. I can't stop that but done is done. Period."

"How am I ever going to get better?"

"I don't know jes what ya mean by better but ahma thinking it don't fall into any category a man can hope to attain. Babe, I never known any as hard on themselves as you. I ain't sure what yer reachin' for or just who it is ya mean to have grant ya validation."

"I don't know. I really don't." Rob said and looked out the window to where snow was falling through the cones of streetlight. "What do you do when that voice tells you you aren't worth anything and don't deserve anything good?"

"I tell it ta fuck off, I got a life ta live and that's already tough enough." Norman said and held Rob close. "When I was thirty my best friend killed herself. Said she was tired. Of being wrong. Of being sad. Of being hated fer just being who she was. Know what though?"

"No. Tell me."

"I was so mad at her. Fer letting tha bastards win. The ones what wanted her to be miserable. For letting tha world best her." Norman said and took a deep breath that he let out slowly before continuing. "Then I got mad at God fer making such a shitty fucking world. After that I got mad at myself fer not being tha strength she needed. Thing was that alla that anger made no sense. It couldn't ever bring her back. It wasn't going to change how hard life is fer others."

"So what did you do?"

"I spent a while feeling nothing. Something clicked in my brain and said just watch. Just pay attention." Norman said and turned his eyes to Rob. "I quit expecting things to be good. I quit expecting someone ta fix things. Instead I saw the moments. Tha little moments here and there where a smile or bit of kindness could change somebody's day. I stopped trying to understand what I couldn't never anyways. That big picture bein' drawn by others. I started looking to encourage others. It don't feel like it's doing much but it really is."

"Man. You basically have to do that all the time in every day with me."

"You're enough. You are. I don't know who else deserves your best and why you should worry about giving it to them, but you're enough. You are everything I could dream of. You're enough."

She did find it strange that expecting a government to be responsible to its people was a subversive thing. Laws seemed all too malleable but that's what social organizations were for. Addressing needs. Demanding redress. Ensuring favorable legislation wasn't overturned. But what did you do if you were alone? Outside of everything? Who was looking out for you when you yourself had nobody to look to? What did you do then?

You kept your head down and obeyed every rule and law to the letter. An independent lawyer was incredibly expensive. Even more so if you went to trial. Life was a long lonely ride if you were on the outs.

.

She went to see the latest Minnie Kershaw movie and it was an uncomfortable experience while also being a disappointment. Being a Kershaw movie it was inevitable that half the audience were Sisterhood. She didn't recognize any of them and apparently she was unknown to them as well, but she was the only woman sitting by herself in the theater. The film itself was an uninspired rehash of 'Kisses Like Summer Wine' but with more emphasis on the male lead. Tobias Van der Ploeg was a fine actor but here it was clear that it was more about his statuesque good looks and appealing to the hetmaj crowd.

She walked out of theater alone and ignored the stares. She was too old to be going about on her own. She was too well dressed to be working class. She wanted a drink but didn't dare go to a bar. She couldn't go to a Sisterhood friendly bar and she hadn't worn her gun. She was in no mood for the clumsy flirtations of men. She wasn't in the mood for anything.

She stood there on the sidewalk wishing that she were normal. Whatever that meant. What did normal people even do? How were their daily lives? What was an average day for Rood 'The Rabbit' deKuyper and his wife? She found that she had her phone in her hand. It was full of numbers she didn't dare call. She had a weird superstition when it came to the phone. She was terrified that she'd die or be killed and nobody would come to claim her body. She hoped that, if she kept all those numbers in it, somebody would call them and at least one person would care.

They weren't in the quick-pull list. They were in her personal directory. So she wouldn't see them all the time. Joan, Nina. Cecilia, Sulinda, Becka Corrine. Jess. Her entire romantic history there. She couldn't remember how they had all ended. Becka had cheated on her. So many times that it had made her question just how blind and stupid she was. Cecilia had left her to go back to her ex-husband. The rest? Why did it feel like things had just faded to an end?

She went to the bus stop and made sure she sat in full view of the camera there. Her head wasn't right tonight. She didn't trust herself to spot a predator staking her out. If she got raped while out alone late at night without her gun they'd say that she wanted it. That she had deliberately chosen to be a victim. Especially with her ties to the Sisterhood. She'd be accused of laying a trap and luring in a man.

She could hear in her head the conversation with the police already 'Why would you be out unprotected at such an hour, miss?' 'Because I shouldn't have to go around armed. Men should be able to control themselves better.' 'But you have a gun and you deliberately left it home!' 'Yes. Because I'd be tempted to use it on myself!' 'So you admit that you had no concern for your own safety!'

She had never felt so alone in her life and nothing made sense. Nothing mattered. Where was she trying to get to? What was the point? What would she even do if she got to that special place? That mythical place. Where everything would finally make sense.

She knew she should probably go to see her doctor again. The depression was already there. If this kept up the anxiety would set in as well. Once that happened it would make staying well an incredible struggle. She hated being on meds but the problem was that until she got into that horrible place, that place where every day was a nightmare of worry mixed with a lethargy of spirit, the meds seemed the worst course.

The mood stabilizer clearly wasn't working. She'd gotten off the rest, the anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs, while she was with Jess. Because life had been good. But had it been? She'd gone along with things she didn't like. Had held back on opinions and thoughts that might upset Jess. She had pushed everything in and told herself that none of it mattered because she had the woman she would love for the rest of her life. She wanted that feeling to be authentic. Not one built off from the artifice of medication.

It was funny. She never cried. For herself. Over Jess. Over all the shit gone wrong. 'Because,' the voice inside of her said, 'you've gotten what you deserve. What you want.' That thought didn't hurt. It didn't matter. She knew what a mess she was and the dirty little voice couldn't begin to compete with what the messages sent by the Sisterhood said.

It was ironic. Men made her feel threatened physically, but the real wounds, the real pain, was inflicted upon her by her so-called sisters. Other women cut the deepest wounds into her heart and soul. Their cruelty was precise. Surgical. Aimed at where they knew she was most vulnerable.

What if...what if she went off to Milwaukea...and stayed? She could apply for a Type 5a Grade 4 work visa. She was a degreed professional. If Joan would be willing to sign on as a non-obligational sponsor she could get a temporary residential stay. It shouldn't be that difficult to find work. She had a decent amount in savings.

"This is a program called 'The World Cafe'." Jay explained. Her hazel eyes watched him and waited. Patiently. "I don't know any of these artists, but, uhm, I like it. I wasn't aware there was modern music like this."

"Gatsby. Buddy. This is from like 1960. Oh. Yeah. That would actually qualify as modern music to you." Chelsea leaned against the wall that bordered Jay's cubicle and put her curves on display. Not for Jay's benefit. Just naturally. "The music is well over twice as old as you. So, apparently you're now robbing the cradle, musically speaking."

"Guess so." Jay said and had to grin. Because his coffee mug, bought for him by Arthur, had a portrait of J.S. Bach on it. "You working late too?"

"No, I came back for my jacket. Gats, like, why the hell are you working late?"

"I've got a driver in Queens who isn't unloaded yet. Warehouse there is working in slow motion."

"So let after-hours take care of that."

"Eh. I promised the driver I'd stay on top of these guys." Jay said and forced himself to not straighten his tie. "You know how warehouse people are. If someone new starts calling them they figure they can begin recycling excuses.

"Jay. You've a broker. Not a dispatcher. You don't have to have this much integrity." Chelsea said and did that tilt of her head that made her look sly and incredibly sexy. "I gotta admit it's kinda precious though. You are a darling!"

"Compliments from a beautiful woman. See. That's why I work over."

"Watch it mister!" Chelsea said in a stern tone while pointing at him. "This is a professional environment! You're not permitted to flirt with me."

"Until I'm single."

"Until you're single." She said and winked.

Jay smiled and didn't point out that he was actually single, and she was not, because this was the game, and since they both understood it was a game, it was okay to play.

.

He was still horrible about using his phone outside of work. He had always had the bad habit of settling it down absent-mindedly and not realizing he'd done that until hours passed. He had a belt case now to prevent that, but since few people called or texted him during the day, he tended to forget about his phone even still.

That was probably why, when Jay arrived home an two hours late, Arthur had the music turned up to a higher volume than Jay had ever heard it. Loud enough to be heard through the front door, and definitely loud enough to mask the sound of Jay's entrance. Thus his friend was still dancing in the great room, and dancing with a sort of abandon that Jay hadn't witnessed from him while out in the clubs. He was not, as Jay had always secretly suspected, dancing naked. He had on the silk boxers, the ones decorated with the friendly, waving Tabasco bottles on a golden field, and a white Aeroflot wife-beater.

It was such a happy and carefree sight that Jay almost turned around and left.

Almost.

Instead he sat down on the chair by the foyer, loosened his tie, kicked off his shoes, and relaxed. He almost took a turn towards guilt, because Arthur never did this when he was around, but he told The Voice to fuck right off. This was a good moment. His friend was happy. His friend was enjoying himself. And damn, the man really had rhythm. Arthur did NOT dance like a sixty something. Or like a white man. Even a gay white man. Arthur's whole body was fluid in its movements and those hips! They never lost the beat.

He couldn't understand anything being sung except for the repeated phrase 'Hey Mr. DJ' and the most noticeable thing about the music was a rhythmic clapping. Well, and the beat. Said beat, coupled with his perspective, providing him with a fine display of rump shaking. That song segued into one he was familiar with. He had no idea who sang it, or whether it was called 'all the single ladies' or 'if you like it' or 'shoulda put a ring on it' and he didn't care. Arthur was absolutely mesmerizing.

Jay's thoughts just ceased. He was eyes and the biggest smile. He was witness to an expression of physical exuberance that was so intrinsically human that he didn't need to do anything but watch to share in the joy. The following song he recognized as Lil Nas X because it was a staple in the clubs. Arthur was sweating and showing no sign of stopping. So Jay got up, and still unnoticed, went into the kitchen. He grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. In the other room the next song started.

Jay stopped in his tracks. Had it just...? It had! A woman repeating 'suck my clit'! Eat my clit? I insist? This...was a song? Wow. He was so out of touch with music. He moved to the archway to where he could see Arthur gyrating and working it. Oh shit. Arthur was right. He was a prude. Oh, fuck he was a prude! Because he had actually thought 'Is it necessary to be that vulgar?' But watching his friend dance and grind, he almost understood. Dancing was essentially a sexual display. The music was a sort of guide, so why shouldn't the lyrics be explicit to match the implicit desire?

He watched Arthur dancing. He saw the joy and wanted some of it. He wanted to feel it. Be a cause of it. His eyes kept returning to the movement of the hips. It was suggestive. No. Not suggestive. Sexy. Sensuous. It was beautiful. Erotic. Erotic? Was it? He stopped merely looking and thought about what he felt. Yes. It was erotic. That wasn't a bad thing. No it wasn't. Not a bad thing at all. He wanted to feel this. It was right to.

He stepped back into the room. Arthur was still oblivious. Jay's grin returned. He walked right up to the man and said, loudly, because of the music, "If you're gonna suck that clit, you'd better hydrate.

"Waaaahhohhhh! Yah! Ahhhh! Jay"

"Cotton mouth isn't conducive to sucking." Jay said while Arthur stood, eyes comically wide, mouth hanging open, dripping sweat, and possibly blushing. "Or, uh, so I hear."

"Oh oh oh!" Arthur frantically tried to turn down the music but instead just changed songs, then dropped the remote. "I didn't know you were home! I didn't hear damn it! Turn down! Siri, turn the music down! Siri! Siri! Damn it!"

"Take this." Jay forced a bottle of water into Arthur's hand, then took the remote and dropped the volume of the music by two-thirds. "Maybe, uh, Siri was dancing too."

"I, that, this, I was..."

"That's good cardio." Jay said and opened his own water. "You have got boss level stamina, my man."

"When did you get home? You didn't call! When did you get home?"

"Ahh mmmm...four songs ago. Yeah. Four."

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

"Dude, I know you dance when I'm not here." Jay said as he leaned against a chair. "You've told me! What are you embarrassed about? I'm just surprised you're not naked."

"Naked?" Arthur said, his voice the full 'shocked at the thought' octave higher. "You assumed I dance around the house naked?"

"Well, you don't dance at all when I'm here." Jay said and helpfully handed Arthur the towel that was on the chair he was leaning against. "So, I figure, well, I mean, logically, that you dance naked."

"How is that logic...I don't dance when you're here because I know you don't like this music!" Arthur, severely flustered, seemed unable to choose between toweling off or drinking water. "Let alone music this loud!"

"Hey, admittedly, I'm not going to just sit and listen to this stuff." Jay said and confessed to himself that he was currently very impressed. And more. "But listening to it while watching you dance like THAT? I mean, there's no wrong way to take this. Dude! That was hot! If you relaxed and danced like that in the clubs, you would never spend the night alone unless you wanted to."

"That's not why I, I mean, I dance! At the club! But the reason...the reason...why are you smiling like that?"

"Because I'm happy." Jay said and toasted the other with his water. "Seriously. That was amazing. And watching it made me happy. Very happy."

"Wha...well. oh. Well. Happy? Really? Good. Uhm. I'm glad." Arthur said and finally opened his water. Jay was now fairly sure the man was blushing. "I enjoy it and, uhm, do you mean it? That was, uhm, hot?"

"If I was a young black man in the clubs I'd be properly intrigued."

"Oh. So...you're not, uhm...oh! Oh! No! No, that's okay! I shouldn't..."

"No, I shouldn't have said that! That was kinda fucking stupid! Actually that was ignorant!" Jay said and the guilt of his idiocy was rising, so he headed it off at the pass. "I was trying to deflect! Because, okay. I admit it. I was actually sort of disappointed that you weren't dancing naked. I was hoping you did that! And then, well, then I wasn't disappointed. Because the movement is sexier when you can't see and have to imagine and the way you move, and, uhm, I was, it's just, that, ah hmm. Damn! I have to...ahhh. Fuck. Uh, Arthur?"

"Yes, Jay?"

All of his inner voices were screaming at him to retreat. He ignored them. "Is it bad that I really, really, want to kiss you right now?"

"What? Jay, uhm, where, why, would you..."

"I told you." Jay said as he felt nervous sweat forming. "I watched you. Dancing like that. It was amazing. Very sexy. Yeah. Sexy. Erotic. It makes me...yeah. And now, well, I just really want to kiss you."

"You...you do?"

"I really do. So very much." Jay said as they both stood far too still. Like they were both on a cliff's edge and about to fall. But falling only happened if you didn't spread your wings. In order to fly, you had to stand at that edge as well.

"I don't want you to feel, and uhm, the test hasn't, and, I don't, you, you don't have to do, I mean, I know that, and, you don't have to do..."