Reality is perceptual and perpetual.

Rob let out a shaky breath. He had just officially come out for the first time and it had gone better than he could have hoped. Granted he'd been fairly sure that Johnny already knew, but the words had been spoken. 'My boyfriend'. He'd said that out loud and hadn't taken the chances he'd been given to avoid mentioning it.

It was strange how important it felt. He'd never had to announce that he was straight. When he'd been married to Mo he hadn't had to go out of his way to let people know she was a woman. Then again saying 'she' and 'her' weren't the kind of things you had to wonder about how people would react to. People didn't get threatened and harassed and punched for being straight. You might get stomped for fucking another guy's girlfriend but that was about cheating. Not about being straight.

He lived deep in Trump country in a permanently red state. Being gay wasn't a thing he could ever assume was totally acceptable and not a potential to be a serious problem. It was 2019 but he was living in a country trying to return to 1919. He was only two of the three requirements to be a "good" American. He was white and he was male.

As far as the third point in the trifecta he didn't want to be straight. Not if that was what the alt-right expected. Fuck those people. Unlike most of them he'd served his country. And most he'd served with hadn't been white. If being a "good American" meant he was supposed to hate anyone who was different, he had no interest in it at all.

.

"Who is that?"

"That's Conan the Queer." Colt whispered into Rob's ear. "Those muscles aren't just glamor. That boy knows how to fight. Like absolutely flatten a man fight."

They were at a picnic at the South Arkansas River Greenway Canoe Access. A clunky name for a park and also a somewhat awkward place for a gathering of twenty gay men. It was a "family friendly" park so in Rob's mind they clearly shouldn't be there. It was a bad mix from the go. Straight people with kids+Kansas+Trump. Right-wing nutbags already eagerly portrayed every gay man as not just a sexual predator, but a pedo.

They weren't bothering anybody though. No beer, no loud music, no pride flags. Just a group of friends who happened to all be gay. Rob sort of needed this. To be around people doing normal things without feeling like he was doing something sinister or wrong. It was nice to not worry if someone knew or suspected that he and Norman were together.

"You guys still getting presents from your anonymous admirers?" Colt asked as Rob watched Norman cooking burgers. "Probably, huh? Since cops won't do nothing."

"Yeah. Just about every night." Rob admitted. The 'presents' were 40 oz bottles, usually Schlitz, filled with urine and thrown onto their lawn. "They don't hit the house, so I guess we're lucky."

"Lucky? Compared to who?"

"The Vazquez family up the block had their dog shot. The Îbanèz family had their garage set on fire, and half the guys I did lawn work with have had their cars vandalized. I don't get it myself. We all immigrated here at some point. Why hate on the hard working poor and not the fucking rich people keeping EVERYBODY trapped in debt?"

"Same reason half of my infantry company in the Corps was latino or black." Colt said and considerately cupped his hands around Rob's so the latter could light his smoke. "White people talk so much shit but do so little work. It's this attitude of 'I deserve better' but then they get pissed when someone does the job they didn't want anyhow. Divide and conquer. Were you in Afghanistan?"

"No. Just Iraq. In '07."

"In Afghanistan I knew we weren't ever gonna win." Colt said and looked towards the river. "Family then clan then tribe. All these divisions already there. Country wasn't a concept they gave a shit about."

"We got it so easy here and it's still all fucked up.' Rob said and took a quick peek at Conan. The dude was fucking ginormous. "I got no answers but I know we're going the wrong way now. Hate and fear and anger. Over what? Trans rights? Immigration? I mean, I can't see anything around here worth hating so hard over."

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.