Fiction by Ryan McFadden (originally published in Reed Magazine)
In the too long, too perfect San Diego days, Twinky did what he could to survive. He waited tables, sold molly at circuit parties, found daddies and lived as a kept boy. But nothing lasted. Someone always accused him of stealing, or spreading STDs. Before long his life slid into breathless desperation: hooking up just for a bed, taking whatever high came free.
But as life spiraled it also simplified. In the ever-watchful eyes of circuit boys he was a twink and a train wreck. Their opinions were set; he’d never be anything more. So, he figured: be it, then. He found this character Twinky sleeping with a man and then bragging about it, breaking up good couples just to watch things burn. He found this character partying like it was his job. He found these expectations easy to fill.
He forgot “Twinky” wasn’t his real name.
And if, in rare quiet moments, he sensed a cliff ahead, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Everyone had a role, and he’d found his. Life was fated like that. So he stuck his chin out, stayed high twenty-four seven, and watched his life rather than live in it.
All that changed when he met Kimmy.
Nurse by day, hag by night, Kimmy was queen of her circle of gays. She took to Twinky first as a club friend, then a real true one. She got him a job, moved him into her spare room, and cosigned on a bank account. She governed what drugs he took, when, and how much. Her friends became his friends. One of them even became his boyfriend.
With Kimmy as mom life simplified in a new way: his only imperative was to do what she said. And he did, and for a year he got on this way—feeling again, self-caring, healing. And if he still danced on the cliff edge, he now sensed a net just over the side.
Then a week ago his boyfriend accused him of cheating, and beat Twinky till one of his eyes swelled shut. The neighbors called the cops, but when they saw it was two men they left saying “you two work it out.” In one fast night love vanished, along with all faith in Kimmy as guide—he saw the safety net had been an illusion.
Now Twinky broke open completely. For a week solid he wore his bruises to the clubs, partied into oblivion, and not even Kimmy could stop it. Now he actively prodded himself toward the edge, toward a fireworks ending.