I just found out that a dear friend of mine is gay.
With boisterous laughter ricocheting all around her placidly conjured smile, this dear friend declared “Guess what? I’m gay!” A timid smile followed. And for a split second of an eternity I stood there wary of my reaction. The words that flew out of my mouth didn’t strike me as anywhere within the vicinity of polite.
“It’s written all over you tonight.” And that same meek smile of hers resurfaced. Or was it ever expunged at all?
Within the same breath of that nighttime air, only several minutes apart, another friend had confessed in lengthy detail of the phenomenon that is his life, including the romance of his marriage proposal to his then girlfriend and now fiancé, coupled with the turmoil that haunts both of them since.
And I blame all these on three intoxicating glasses of California red wine.
I did not, do not, will not mention any of your names, because I cannot do so. As I am sworn to secrecy, only your reactions to this prose shall ever fan the flames of curiosity of those who are curious, and might in the long run validate their long-standing suspicions about your identities.
It’s just that I cannot be expected to hold so much information with a tied tongue. And although I am keeping my lips sealed, as the stupid cliché goes, modern technology has enabled me to course my ramblings through with unbound fingers and a DSL connection. It is only a question of who is reading.
Keep the grapes fermenting. There will never be enough red wine on earth to untangle a tongue that holds a treacherous secret.