The kids came to a screeching halt in front of me, then turned silent as they looked up at Ricky. Before I could introduce him, they turned on me.
“You’re short!” one of them yelled as they both pointed at me.
“Uh, yeah. I am.” I waited to see what came next. I had nothing to add to the conversation so far. I was short, and they were annoying. But customer relations said I couldn’t call them that.
“You’re short. You’re short. You’re short,” they chanted and laughed, still pointing at me.
I looked at Ricky, who was grinning and mouthing their chant. What the fuck? He wasn’t any taller than I was.
Suddenly I was starring in a Fellini film. The rollercoaster of Ricky’s emotions had added two more little riders. The storage room was looking better and better as an option for getting anything done.
As the little boys chanted and giggled, a woman swooped around the corner, knelt down, and put an arm around each boy. She reeled them in like a star angler.
“Boys,” she chided in a steel voice, “what did I say about pointing and yelling at people in public?”
“We were just teasing. Daddy said it was okay.” The kid and his brother had gone from bright red when they were chanting to deathly pale as they looked at their mother.
Huh? This was teasing? Having never had a sibling, I wasn’t used to teasing done as a shouted chant. They were just annoying as far as I was concerned. Ricky had shut up and was staring at the little family with an open mouth.
“What did I say would happen if you did this again?” She was as pale as her kids were, but her voice sounded like the voice of Thor.
One of the boys started crying while the other answered in a dull voice, “You’ll take away our toys.”
“Why will I take away your toys?” she countered calmly.
“Because it’s not nice to tease strangers?” The kid promptly joined his brother in tears.
Their mother stood and looked down at them.
“We’re going home now to put your things away. You promised not to tease people anymore.”
Her pronouncement was met with louder tears.
“First you need to apologize for your rude behavior.” She took them by the hand and turned them to face me.
“Uh, no, no,” I started, but she gave me a stern-mom look. I shut up for the moment.
“I will not tolerate this behavior in my sons.” She looked drained, so tired it was a wonder she could stand up, but she stood like a solid bastion of good manners. She might fall asleep on her feet, her stance said, but her sons weren’t getting away with yelling anything personal about anyone in public.
“Uh, they weren’t wrong,” I told her. “I am short.”
“And gay,” one snot-nosed urchin muttered. He was picking at the mess oozing from his nose and wiping it on his jacket.
Her face turned livid. “What did I tell you about saying that?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I am gay,” I assured her.
The little guy looked up at me, his eyelashes crusted with tears and his nose dripping.
“You’re gay like Santa’s elves,” he said. He seemed glad to hear I understood. “Mommy says gay means happy.”
His brother hit him. “Don’t. We’re already in trouble.”
I looked down at them and smiled. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m happy being gay like Santa’s elves. It’s a good way to be. Maybe you’ll be as happy as I am when you grow up too.”
The mother, whose name I didn’t know, smiled, then started laughing.
The ringleader looked at his brother. “See? He made mommy happy too.”
She and I laughed while the boys and Ricky gave us puzzled stares. Over her shoulder I saw John standing stock-still, a look of horror on his face. When our eyes met, I winked at him. He backed up a step like he didn’t know me. Or maybe he refused to get involved. I didn’t blame him.
When the mom stopped laughing and was using a tissue from her purse to mop up, she smiled at me. “Thanks. I found out how homophobic my ex, the boys’ father, is after I married him. He’s the one who eggs them on to do things like this. I think the boys should tell him what you said, though, don’t you?”
I grinned and nodded. “Sure. You go ahead and tell your dad that I’m happy being gay, and that you want to be happy like me when you grow up too.”
They nodded back, two little messes of snot and drying tears. Their mom gathered them up, tried to get them to blow their noses on more tissues, and finally dragged them toward the checkout.
As I turned back to assess the damage to the greenhouse, Ricky’s hand touched my sleeve.
“Are you happy?” Ricky asked.
I realized he hadn’t caught the joke, but I had no idea how to unravel it for him.
“Yup.”
“You’re short and happy?” His voice wavered as if he knew something was wrong but couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Yup.” I wasn’t going to explain because I was watching John as he walked slowly toward us. I couldn’t tell if his frown was for me, for Ricky, the situation with the boys, or all of the above.
“They were mocking you,” John said softly.
“I know.”
“You don’t care?”
I shrugged. Of course, I cared. What short guy—any guy—wouldn’t? But what was I going to do about it in the middle of Beth’s nursery? Besides, the kids didn’t actually know they were mocking me. As their mother said, they thought they were teasing, just like they probably teased each other. Like all kids, they were testing an adult—this time me—trying to find out good from bad, acceptable from unacceptable. I hadn’t engaged, so they’d probably never tease me again.
I didn’t know what their father might have up his sleeve. Would
