They visit the museum again. He doesn’t talk,
though he knows she needs comfort. Marley always needs comfort, always needs it
from him.
Jayden slows as they approach the glass
enclosure of their favorite exhibit. No, not their favorite. The one they’re
compelled to visit, every single time.
They stop in front of the glass, and she
turns to look him in the eye for the first time since they’d entered the museum.
“They added a painting,” she says. “They’ve changed the decor.”
Jayden looks away, distracted by a flash of
periwinkle on the shirt of a man in the crowd around the enclosure. He stares
at the man, drawn to the lush dark curls and full sensuous mouth. His study
delays the moment his eyes make the inevitable track toward the exhibit. But blue
shirt man catches him staring and frowns, half-shaking his head. Jayden looks away,
heart pounding.
Marley reaches for his hand and this time he
lets her hold it. Her fingers tremble in his and he tells himself the contact is
for her benefit, not his. He squeezes her hand and finally looks up at the man
in the cage. It has been over sixty years, the Father General swears, since the
last gay was born. Sixty years since the camps had closed, sixty years since
genetic engineering had stomped out the abnormalities.
They can’t linger. If they move on quickly
enough, it will seem they were just passing through, perhaps on their way to
something more interesting, more personal. Jayden stares at the last gay in the
world, the reminder of what used to be. As he pulls Marley away, he strokes her
hand, a silent promise that their secret is safe as long as they’re together.
