In His Makeup      In His Makeup

 by Kass

  

 Author's website: http://www.trickster.org/kass/

 Disclaimer: 

 Author's Notes: In response to the makeup challenge at the livejournal
community ds_flashfiction. Thanks to Sihaya Black for beta.

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 In His Makeup 

 It's not in my makeup to desire a man. Homosexuals are born, not made,
and I am not among their number: my disastrous liaison with Victoria
should be proof enough of that. 

 That's what I told myself when I met the second Ray Vecchio, n Kowalski.
However strangely alluring he might prove, a fleeting physical attraction
is not the same as genuine desire. 

 As we worked together, weeks and then months, my heart began making
treacherous noises, the gunshot sounds of rotten ice breaking up in
spring. I ignored them. Fraternal love is one thing; romantic, erotic,
love quite another. Loving Ray in that way was simply not in my makeup. 

 I would say it aloud, sometimes, alone in my room at night, but the words
did not sound convincing. Even Diefenbaker was not fooled. 

 "You have to face what's really bothering you, son," my father would
chide me, and then inconveniently vanish as soon as I'd thought of a
proper retort. 

 I didn't like admitting it, but knew he was right. The real fear was not
that my makeup precluded loving Ray, but that his makeup precluded loving
me.  

 The women's world curling championships are this weekend, and Canada's up
against the U.S. I could watch them at the Consulate, but ever since
Diefenbaker threw up on a visiting dignitary's exceptionally expensive
Italian shoes he is persona non grata there, and I would prefer to spend
my day off with him. Thankfully, Ray is willing to indulge my curling
obsession, as long as I provide food. 

 We arrive a few minutes early, but I knock anyway. The bagels are still
warm in their paper bag, and Diefenbaker is impatient to steal whatever
tidbits he can muster. 

 Ray opens the door, dressed but hair still mussed from sleep. As I bustle
around his kitchen with the bags -- bagels, cream cheese, capers, salmon,
hardboiled eggs, sliced tomato -- he puts a kettle on for tea. I glance
over and the sight of him registers: he is wearing eyeliner. A hint of new
possibilities curls in my belly. 

 I am too startled to pretend not to be looking, and he catches me. Leans
back against the counter and crosses his arms. His chin is raised
slightly: a hint of defiance. 

 The silence is awkward, so I state the obvious. "Ray. You're wearing
makeup." 

 "Went dancing last night," he says, as if that's an explanation. "Stella
used to dig the eyeliner, when we were first going out..." 

 An image of Ray dancing in tight jeans and black t-shirt, eyes glittering
and head tossed back, floats across my mind's eye. I push it away;
whatever tantalizing possibilities the eyeliner might suggest, he's just
reminded me of the very reason his interest in me is an impossibility. 

 "Hey," he says softly. Apparently my daze has gone on too long; the
defiance has gone out of his posture, and his expression is warm with
concern. "Does it -- look, I didn't mean to freak you out, I can go wash
--" 

 He makes a jerky move towards the bathroom, but I stop him with a hand on
his arm. "No, I..." I inhale as deeply as I can (fresh bread, salmon, a
hint of Ray's deodorant) and make myself keep speaking. "I like it." 

 My hand is big and pale against his charcoal-grey sweatshirt. His arm is
warm even through the cloth. I drag my eyes up from my grip to his face. 

 His eyes are rimmed in dark blue kohl, smudged but distinct. His beard
stubble glints faintly. Ray is smiling, and although he is the same
familiar Ray I have known all this time, there is something new behind his
eyes. 

 Perhaps the situation is not as hopeless as I had believed. 

 Desiring me may be in his makeup after all. 

 (640 words) 

End In His Makeup by Kass: kass@trickster.org

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