Excerpt
Unraveling
Rick R. Reed © 2020
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
RANDY
I have my death all planned out.
Unlike the thirty-two years that have gone before, I want my passing to be peaceful and free of the discord and pain I’ve lived with for as long as I can remember. I want it to be easy. Effortless. Guilt-free.
Whether it’s any of those things remains to be seen.
I’ve rented this hotel room at a small boutique hotel off Michigan Avenue. The Crewe House has been standing on this same ground on Oak Street for at least a hundred years. The rooms are small, fussy, and charming, with flocked wallpaper, four-poster beds, and claw-foot tubs and pedestal sinks in their black-and-white bathrooms. It’s charming, and I deserve something nice to gaze at before I close my eyes for good.
I have some sandalwood-scented candles lit, and the fragrance is warm, enveloping. Their soft flicker is the only illumination. Outside, the winter sky darkens early. Dusk’s cobalt blue makes silhouettes of the water towers, train tracks, and buildings to the west of the hotel. Near the horizon the sky is a shade of lavender that mesmerizes me, makes me think of changing my mind. If a sky like this can exist, with its electric bands of color, maybe the world isn’t such a horrible place.
Maybe I can go on.
No.
What else have I done to ease my passage into whatever comes next? I have a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, my favorite champagne, uncorked and resting in a silver ice bucket, filled with melting ice. A flute stands next to it, waiting.
I’ll wash the sleeping pills down with the bubbly.
Before getting into bed, I’ll turn on the cassette I have in my boombox, Abbey Road. I have it queued up to “Golden Slumbers.”
I’ve been carrying this weight for such a long time.
I long for smiles.
At last, I’ll undress and stretch out on the four-poster. I’ll pull the eiderdown duvet loosely over me and close my eyes.
The plan is I will slowly slip under, my brain becoming a soft velvety fog, and I’ll simply fall into the arms of a comforting—and obliterating—slumber.
I will not dream.
It won’t take long.
And I’ll leave a beautiful corpse.
That’s the plan, anyway. Some of my research into this method of offing myself runs counter to this gentle fantasy, but I don’t want to consider the downside of overdosing on strong barbiturates.
I want to go to sleep.
I want to forget the impossibility of being able to become the man I know I should be.
Husband.
Father.
I blink back tears as I sit on the bed, staring out at the deepening twilight. They don’t deserve this: what you’re going to leave them with. I know the voice inside, the one that’s always made me do the right thing, at the expense of my very being, is right. And even though they don’t deserve it, you know they will hurt, of course they will, but in the end, they’ll be better off.
Who wants a husband and father who can’t seem to make himself straight, despite trying therapy, the Catholic Church, the Buddhist faith, self-help groups, and self-help books. A group of pathetic married men meeting once a month and thinking they can change. Nothing works. If I could change, I would.
And since I can’t change, I’m left with three options:
Accept myself as I am. How can I do that? I’d be a failure as a husband, a father, a son, a brother. I’d go on wearing this suffocating mask. I’d continue to live a life that’s essentially a lie.
Everyone who loves me doesn’t even know me.
They love a façade, a projection, a mirage made of wishes, impossible hopes, and self-hatred.
No, acceptance is not an option. It never was.
Second, I could resist. I could knuckle down and brace myself against the attractions I feel, the dreams that pop up in my sleep despite my desperately not wanting them there. I could hold myself back from falling prey to the temptations I feel on the streets, the subway, the locker rooms—everywhere I encounter a beautiful man.
The reason I find myself here is because I can’t resist. Not anymore.
And the third option is simply the one I have to choose—remove myself from the pain. Remove myself from existing as this broken thing that God nor man can fix.
Yes, Violet and Henry both will find a way to move on, and they’ll be happier, more anchored in life without me.
Who needs a gay dad? Or a husband who, deep down, doesn’t want what his wife has to offer? Or worse, a dad who contracts the death sentence of AIDS?
Enough of the grim thoughts. They were not part of my plan. Tonight, I go out peacefully. I’ll shut my eyes and remember things like my joy six years ago when Henry was born and seeing him take his first breath. I shouted, “We got a boy!” and fell into the deepest, most effortless love I’ve ever felt. I’ll remember proposing to Violet when we were both college sophomores and the thrill when she accepted the cheap diamond-chips ring I gave her. Things will be okay now, I remember thinking. I can change.
I really believed that. And I know I love Violet as best I can.
It’s sad when your best simply isn’t good enough.
I reach over for the bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand. There are thirty of them, and I intend to take them all, two or three at a time. If it takes the whole bottle of champagne to get them down, well, things could be worse. No?
I tip the bottle and look at the tablets against the dark wood, so innocent, yet so lethal.
I’m just reaching for one when there’s a sudden knock on the door. Loud. Forceful. Urgent.
“Randy? Randy? Open up, please.”
The door knob turns as Violet’s voice penetrates the heavy wood of the door, making her sound muffled.
I close my eyes. I could ignore her, hope she goes away.
How did she find out where I was anyway?
She wasn’t supposed to know until she got the letter, the one neatly folded and an arm’s length away on the nightstand.
Pounding. “Please!” Violet calls.
I gather the pills, shoving them back in the bottle, then hide the container in a nightstand drawer.
How will I explain?
I get up, cross the room, and open the door.
amatate –
Whenever I pick up a book by this author, I know I’ll get a story full of heart and Unraveling gave that and then some. This novel reads a bit like a coming-of-age novel, but instead of a young adult or new adult, the main character is a 32 year old closeted married man who has decided to take off the mask he’s donned all his life and embrace his truth.
Set in Chicago in the late 1980s, Unraveling discusses the AIDS crisis as well as the blatant bigotry and inequality LGBTQ people faced at the time. I enjoyed the inclusion of all these components. They were honest and forthright, capturing how gay men felt during that time without excessive fanfare or having a charged political, preachy, or even condemning tone. It just was. While I expected the reflection on the past to serve as a reminder as to how far we’ve come, I didn’t anticipate how it would also give me hope for the future progress.
As often is the case with coming-of-age books, I did find the meandering timeline a bit drawn out as Randy tries to find a way in his new world without losing sight of his responsibilities, self, and especially his time with his young son. While that meant this wasn’t a book I rushed through or couldn’t put down, I enjoyed Unraveling and especially loved the final few chapters and epilogue. If you’re looking for a story that’s different from the norm with real characters who don’t seem idealized or out of a magazine, I’d highly recommend this author and book.
Wicked Reads –
Reviews by the Wicked Reads Review Team
Sarah – ☆☆☆☆☆
This is a dark and gritty story that will probably feel autobiographical to far too many of the men who came of age in the 1980s. At the height of the AIDS epidemic, Randy is deeply closeted and married to a woman. Only his wife’s compassion and his love for his young son keeps him alive when he finally hits rock bottom.
This is the story of Reece’s first experiences as a gay man. And while it’s not an easy read, the story commemorates a difficult time in LGBT history. I responded to Randy’s struggles on an almost visceral level and it gave me important insights into the lives of my older gay friends. I love that the world has changed so much in the last few decades – and I’m thankful that the LGBT kids and young adults in my life who expect acceptance and demand respect will find Randy’s experiences alien.
This is marketed as a romance but it reads more like a biography. It is Randy’s life story and while there is an element of romance in the book, it isn’t the story’s focus. This is a moving book that feels real and very personal. I’m not sure I enjoyed it – but I’m very glad I read it.
Angie – ☆☆☆☆
I’ll be honest, I was hesitant on reading this book because in the past I wasn’t fond of the author’s writing style, it just didn’t work for me. However, the blurb for this book had me thinking I should give this author another chance. This book was tough to read because I am sure there are many gay men in the past and even now that have gone through the same things that Randy has. My heart hurt for him, John, Violet, and Henry. So much has changed from the 80s when this book took place, but we still have a long way to go. I don’t want to tell you what happens in this book, you need to read it and you need to feel it for yourself. I’m glad I took a chance and read this book. The epilogue was simply amazing.
Reviewers on the Wicked Reads Review Team were provided a free copy of Unraveling by Rick R. Reed to read and review.