Lark asked, “Did your parents treat sex like it was something dirty?”
“No, just the opposite. They were practical and no-nonsense and always encouraged an open dialog when I was growing up. But I was horrified by that and couldn’t imagine anything worse than talking about sex with my parents. I’m still kind of closed off and embarrassed to talk about it, actually.”
“That’s really interesting,” Lark said. “I grew up in a very different type of household. My parents used religion as an excuse to condemn me and kick me out when they found out I was gay. Before that, they tried to force feed us the message that sex was wrong and dirty and only meant for married people making babies.”
“I’m so sorry they kicked you out. How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Oh god, that’s awful! What did you do?”
“Luckily, my grandma took me in. I ended up living with her until she passed away when I was twenty-two. At first she took care of me, and then I took care of her toward the end of her life.” While he spoke, Lark looked down at his hands and started picking at his short fingernails, as if to distract himself from what he was saying.
“It must be hard to talk about this, but I’m so glad your grandmother loved and accepted you.”
He looked up at me with a sad smile. “She loved me, but she actually didn’t accept me. Gran thought being gay was a sin, but unlike my parents, she didn’t disown me for it. Don’t get me wrong, I adored her, and I’ll always be grateful to her for taking me in. I can only imagine what would’ve happened to me if she hadn’t. We had a good relationship, too. But it was basically like don’t ask, don’t tell—she didn’t want to hear about the fact that I was gay, and she definitely didn’t want to see it.
“I got pretty tired of hiding who I was all the time, so after she passed, I moved to San Francisco. I didn’t know anybody here, which was a big plus as far as I was concerned. And of course, it’s known for being welcoming to LGBTQ people, so it seemed like the perfect place for me.”
I asked, “And has it been?”
“Turns out no place is perfect, but I don’t regret moving here. The only real problem with it is that rent is outrageous. I came here with nothing but four hundred bucks, my gran’s sewing machine, and a few clothes in a backpack.”
He smiled at me and continued, “Good thing I’m kind of cute, because I was able to land a job as a stripper within a week of moving here. I’d been flipping burgers when I lived with Gran, but a minimum wage job wasn’t going to keep a roof over my head in this city.”
“That must have been tough,” I said, “growing up overnight like that. Actually, everything about working as a stripper must have been difficult.”
“It wasn’t so bad, and I actually grew up overnight when my parents kicked me out—not that I had much of a childhood before that. My dad would always tell me to ‘act like a man,’ even when I was five years old.” Lark grinned at me, but there was sadness in his eyes. “I’m making more sense now, right? The silly outfits, the unicorn backpack, the fact that I act like a kid—I’m giving myself the things I never got to have growing up.”
“You’ve made sense all along. Remember our conversation when we did our one-on-one cam session? You told me then that you grew up with a strict family and never got to express yourself, so now you’re making up for it.”
He seemed surprised. “You actually remember that?”
“Sure. It was just a couple of nights ago.”
“I know, but I usually assume most people don’t really listen to me.”
When I said, “Well, I do,” a lot of emotion welled up in his dark eyes, and he quickly looked away.
Our pizza arrived a few moments later. I usually ate my meals at the little table by the window or while standing in my kitchen. But I wanted Lark to be comfortable, so I put the box on the coffee table and brought us some plates and napkins.
When I raised the lid on the box, Lark said, “Wow, it looks delicious.” He pushed up his sleeves, picked up a slice, and took a huge bite. Then he moaned with pleasure as his eyes rolled back in his head.
A little while later, the groceries arrived. I poured him a glass of bright red punch, and he seemed delighted when I handed it to him.
After we ate, I stuck the leftover pizza in the fridge and returned to the couch with the grocery bag. “I got you a few things,” I said, as I placed a vivid box of cereal on the coffee table. “I have no idea what that tastes like, but I thought you’d like it because there’s a unicorn on the box.”
His eyes went wide. Then he snatched the box off the table and hugged it to his chest as he exclaimed, “I’ve never seen unicorn cereal before! Thank you so much!”
That was a much bigger reaction than I’d expected. He was still hugging the cereal when I produced a lemon cupcake and said, “I got you some dessert, too.”
“It looks delicious, but where’s yours?”
“I already had pizza, and I only allow myself one treat a day.”
Lark frowned at me and said, “We’re definitely sharing that.”
His joy revved right back up again when I put a box of hot chocolate, a canister of whipped cream, and a bag of pastel mini marshmallows on the table. He immediately popped the lid and squirted some whipped cream into his mouth. Then he held up the can and announced, “Your turn.”