William would not be my plus one. Like Aaron had said, I was playing outside my league. Our team uniforms clashed. In truth, no one should be that pretty. Or perfect. He took it well. I wasn’t Mister Right; I was Mister Wrong in the Head. Still, at least now I knew I was capable of dating outside the fan club.
“I never liked him,” Elsie told me one day when I was helping her fold scarves in the back of the store. It was a Sunday. Ma was at some afternoon tea, high up in the hills. Dad was bored, so he joined her for a change. Larry King would be there. Dad was a fan. He wore suspenders in homage.
“You never said anything,” I replied, my scarves considerably better folded than hers. It was an art form. Or perhaps a fabulous gay gene.
“You never said anything to me about Brian,” she count
