The Story Is Always Unfolding

Mom and Dad drove me back to the city with boxes of Christmas decorations. I showed them how to take the Brooklyn exit out of the Holland Tunnel and end up on 6th Avenue, like I learned a few weeks ago on the Fall Foliage trip. Dad pointed out to a brick apartment building in the West Village to Mom.

"He used to live in that building."

"Who used to live there?" I asked.

"Alan - he was really the first gay person I knew."

I looked at them from the back seat through the rear-view mirror.

"Yeah, me too," Mom said.

"And he was old. I mean he was in his sixties...and his partner was about twenty years younger, and a black man."

"They were at our wedding, weren't they? But they didn't come together."

"He didn't come because he was sick, but Earl came, with a date."

"Of course Earl was a great dancer."

"Actually we knew them through Eugene."

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