Pedro

“I’ve got a plan”, yelled Brad. The poster on the wall showed Pedro, a dancer. Brad’s living room floor was covered with magazines about dancing and Pedro’s shows. News articles and photos hung next to the poster. Dim lights illuminated Brad’s mustache as well as the oil stains on his work wear. A Buddha figurine sat on the table, next to the radio. “Don’t let me be the last to know..”, sang Britney Spears.

Brad looked at it, then giggled so much that his chubby body shook all over the place.

“Okay, Britney. I’ll tell you.”

He grabbed a photo from the wall. Colorful balloons covered the railing of a boat. In the center of the photo stands Pedro with a smile. The sun shines onto his brown skin, his golden beard sparkles as does his hair. “That’s where I saw him the first time, it was a Christopher Street Day party and he was so breathtaking.”

“Don’t hold back, just let it go..”

“You’re right. Why would he want me? What do I have to offer?”

“Oh, if you love me so..”

Brad looked at the clock on the wall. 9:47 AM. His eyes widened, as he unzipped his overall, he fell over. His face kissed the magazine cover version of Pedro. Sounds of Brad’s pain accompanied his rushing towards the bedroom. He picked a black jacket, black pants. A look in the mirror. No time to shave. He needed to go.

“Come on, let me be the one..”, sang Britney as Brad shut the apartment door.

The bells chimed for service. Brad caught his breath. There he was. Pedro, next to an elderly couple. He stood close by them. The man next to him looked so similar. Same hairline. Same posture. That must be his father. Brad looked down on his clothes, looked back at Pedro and his parents, then on his jacket again. His shoulders dropped. His face fell apart. He hides in the crowd that moved towards the entrance.

“And in my mind, we had a breathtaking date”, Brad thought. Wooden benches with pillows stood in front of the tall Jesus cross and the altar. There was a pulpit next to it which had reliefs of holy people between golden arches. A murmuring crowd spread and found places to sit. Brad didn’t notice Pedro looking at him. “We would visit a musical and afterwards go to a restaurant where you would tell me all about the dance moves they made”, Brad thought, “your eyes would light up. The food would be delicious, salmon with citrus sauce and we would enjoy each other’s company so much.”

The priest’s garments were golden today. He held a bible and a sheet of paper in his hands while he talked to his altar servers. They nodded and moved away from the altar before he ascended the pulpit. “You would show me a dance move in a park even though I don’t have any rhythm at all but you’d be patient with that”, Brad continued his thoughts. His head hanged down. Before the priest has the chance to greet the crowd, Brad had left the church wiping away the tears with a handkerchief.

An hour later he opened his apartment door. “Take a look at me now..”, sang Phil Collins. “Yeah, right, there’s just an empty space”, Brad continued. Just once he wanted to be as courageous as Pedro. So exquisite, so well-mannered, so well-dressed. Brad took off his clothes. Not as chubby as he was. Not as stiff. Not as oil stained. “And you coming back to me is against all odds.”

“Enough”, Brad yelled and threw the radio against the wall.

Three to seven pieces landed on the magazines. He noticed one in particular. He picked it up and turned the pages. A smile on Brad’s face, then a look at the clock. Eight hours. He grabbed his phone. “Jimmy, it’s me. Can you do me a favor?”

One and a half hours later the apartment bell ringed. “I got here as fast as I could”, said Jimmy. He had a clothes bag over his shoulder and handed it to Brad before he walked into the living room. “Seriously Brad, are you still into him? After all this time?”

Brad nodded.

“For months you’ve been going to church, for months you tell me about how fantastic your dates would go. You’re not even Christian.”

“I can’t help it but there’s a show tonight. He dances tonight.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“This has to stop.”

“Tonight, I talk to him. I promise.”

“I hope the suit fits”, said Jimmy and walked towards the door. He turned around. “Good luck, Brad”, he said and shut the door.

“Thanks.”

Brad went to the bathroom. He took the drip plug, put it into place and turned on the faucet. Then he opened the cabinet, “go bald”, he thought and grabbed his shaving soap and razor. Four hours later a somewhat new Brad looked into the mirror. Jimmy’s suit fit him well. A new kind of mustache dressed his face. He was surprised by the confident smile.

He left the apartment.

A cab stopped in front of the theater. Brad paid the driver and got out of the car. A bulk of journalists stood next to the staircase while guests in fine dresses walked up to the entrance. “Pedro!”, shouted a journalist. The bulk started to take photos, guests turned around. They smile in awe. Brad hid between them, the mirror-confidence-smile vanished. He stepped back, he turned around, his head hung down again, then he shook his head.

“No”, he thought, “it’s now or never.”

He moved through the crowd to find Pedro. There he was. That beautiful human being. “Excuse me”, said Brad and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Yes?”

For a split second time stood still. The guests had stopped to move. There was no sound, no questions from journalists, no flashlights. Nothing. Pedro smiled.

“Hi.”

“Oh, it’s you”, said Pedro, “I’ve seen you in church.”

Brad’s shocked.

“Would you go out with me?”, he asked.

“Oh, Brad, I wish you’d asked sooner. I sent all kinds of signals for months, hoping you’d notice me until I broke my heart today and accepted you were not interested in me. I’m with Marcus now.”