Guilt is a wonderful motivating factor. It takes you places you’d never go on your own. It was guilt, for instance, that brought Perry to deepest, darkest West Hollywood, to the Koo Koo Roo outlet on Santa Monica Boulevard. He knew it was one of Tim’s favorite places to guy-watch-this particular Koo Koo Roo was surrounded by gyms and was a favorite postworkout haunt. Perry was meeting Tim for a quick dinner, but when he went into the restaurant, he found himself surrounded by men so buff that they looked freakish. It was like being a white guy in Watts—everyone in Koo Koo Roo eyed him suspiciously, as if he were some sort of dangerous outsider.
Perry didn’t know why he felt so guilty. He hadn’t done
anything wrong, except not tell Tim that he was taking Sandy out on a date. That wasn’t really so wrong. At worst, it was impolite. He had managed to avoid Tim successfully ever since he’d taken Sandy to the fund-raiser, thinking it was better if Tim heard it from Sandy. That thinking, Perry now realized, was misguided. But every day he waited made the situation worse. So he called Tim, suggested dinner, picked the Koo Koo Roo because he thought it was a show of good faith, and besides, as a teacher, it was one of the few places he could afford. He figured it would also be a nice gesture if he paid.
The scene inside Koo Koo Roo was just too intensely homo for Perry, so he wandered back outside to wait for Tim.
How did it end up that Tim was sometimes his best friend and other times the most annoying person in his life? There were times when being with Tim was the most normal feeling in the world, and other times when hanging out with Tim was like being with Jesse Helms or Dennis Rodman, some alien creature with whom Perry had nothing in common.
Then there was the guilt and jealousy. When Perry landed his show, he felt guilty because Tim didn’t have one, too. When Tim got his syndicated column, he felt jealous. The only consolation was that Perry assumed Tim had the same feelings, only more so. Tim was more sensitive—everyone in the family knew that—and it wasn’t because he was gay. Oh hell, maybe it was. Perry was never sure. He could look at Tim and see so much of himself, and yet the differences were staggering. Tim had sex with men. Perry usually dealt with it by trying not to think about it and certainly never asking about it. Nor did he talk much about his girlfriends, figuring there’d be too much guilt and jealousy added to the already-overflowing mix. He realized that it kept them from ever being truly close—they could only talk shop and badmouth their parents so much—but maybe that was a good
thing. Maybe a little distance between twin brothers helps them find themselves.
Just the idea that Tim would feel normal around this group of vain, creatine-addicted mutants scared Perry. What do I have in common with Tim, anyway? he wondered.
Tim arrived in his white BMW 318ti. Even though Sandy had warned him, Perry was stunned at how small it was. What had Tim been thinking?
“New car,” said Perry with a grunt, acknowledging the obvious.
“Don’t make fun of it,” ordered Tim. “I’ve suffered enough, and Dad hasn’t even seen it yet.”
“My lips are sealed,” said Perry, eager to make things right.
“What in the hell are we doing here?” asked Tim as they walked inside.
“I thought you liked this place. You said you used to come here for lunch by yourself all the time,” answered Perry.
“Well, yeah—but that was when I was bored and unemployed and lonely and I’d come here on hot days and watch a bunch of good-looking guys sit around shirtless and ignore me. That hardly seems to be something you’d be interested in.”
“I was trying to make a good impression,” said Perry.
“Fuck that. Let’s get out of here. I feel fat.”
“Me, too,” said Perry as they headed up the street for Hugo’s, a laid-back pasta place. “I figured I should come begging forgiveness on your turf.”
“The Sandy thing?” asked Tim cockily.
“Yes, the Sandy thing. I should have told you. It was rude and weird and passive-aggressive and insensitive and all my other faults.”
“It was,” agreed Tim. “And I was really mad, and I couldn’t figure out why. It wasn’t just because you didn’t tell me. Even
if you had told me beforehand, I would have been mad. I didn’t really want to share Sandy, certainly not with you. I’ve had to share enough with you. I figured that’s why you didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have told me, either.”
“Still, it stunk, and I’m sorry,” said Perry. “I don’t want to ruin your friendship with Sandy.”
“You were smart not to call,” said Tim. “I was madder three days ago. I’m better now.”
“That’s good,” said Perry. “I’m relieved.”
“And I know we never talk about this stuff. We never have.”
“I know. I was just thinking about that.”
“You’re straight and I’m gay, and there’s a certain discomfort there. I still don’t really know what went on between you and Nancy, or any girl you’ve dated. At least with Sandy, I’ll have a reliable inside source.”
“I don’t know why I don’t talk about those things. But you never have, either.”
“We didn’t talk about my love life because I didn’t have one. Even now that I do, I can’t imagine telling you about it.”
“It’s not that I don’t care,” said Perry earnestly.
“I know you care.” Tim laughed. “You have to. You’re my brother, and Mom would kill you if you didn’t care.”
“No, I mean I really care. We could start talking about this stuff. It might be good for us.”
Tim thought for a moment. “You mean Perry and Tim Newman would sit around, drink a beer, and Perry would talk about his girlfriend of the moment and his feelings and all that sex stuff? And then Tim would talk about the same things, except it would be about a guy?”
There was a long silence.
“Do you want to hear about my night with Antonio? I could tell you. You’re a big boy—it won’t kill you.”
Perry again took too long to answer.
“So, I’m assuming you want to reconsider,” Tim said. Perry could be so sincere, it was almost patronizing. They had their relationship terrain staked out, and it hadn’t changed much since they were kids. There was no reason to go tinkering with a successful formula.
“You’re probably right,” admitted Perry. “I guess I don’t feel that guilty.”