Authors Notes:
From Dash: As always, my thanks to A
& K for their outstanding beta work of my work (never post without them!)
and to M for everything. And - in addition - to Tarabeth for approaching me with this idea and asking if
I'd be interested in writing with her. She deserves full credit for the
idea of a tailor and the unique names of the characters. I haven't
written with a partner in several years - it was a fun experience and one I
look forward to repeating.
From Tarabeth:
Thank you to Nicole and Mel for their support and betaing.
I struggled a lot with my piece--sometimes the shortest pieces are the
hardest. And to Dash for discussing how sexy he finds a man in a good
suit.
1962 and 2002 were written by Dash
1982 was written by Tarabeth - her excellent website may be found
here: (http://tarabeth1012.blogspot.com/
)
Title: The Tailor
Authors: Dash & Tarabeth
1962
The small bell tinkled as it was brushed by the
opening of the door and the entrance of the two men. Looking up from the
carbons I was filing in the Orders Book, I saw them walk in together. They were
of similar age and build and had the air of comfortable familiarity about them
that only came from years of intermingled lives.
“Good day, gentlemen. May I help you with
something?” Three years in the front of the shop had taught me the perfect tone
with customers like these. Confident but not arrogant; loud enough to be heard
but not so loud to disturb others or break the peaceful calm of the store;
helpful and friendly without being pushy or too familiar.
The gentleman with glasses smiled and clapped his
friend on the back. “This elderly …”
“Distinguished,” the other man corrected.
“Fellow here is the proud Father of the Bride in a
month and needs something new to wear,” Mr. Glasses continued, uninterrupted or
bothered by the correction.
Raising up the counter separator, I smiled and stepped onto the
shop’s floor. “I can certainly help with that.” Typically, I would address the
wearer of the suit but there was something that hinted that Mr. Glasses would
be interjecting his opinions and thoughts and that the other gentleman was
perfectly fine with that. Instead, I solved the problem by addressing them
both. “What time is the wedding?”
The second gentleman jumped in, “It’s at 4pm,
followed by dinner.”
“Sort of an in-between time,” Mr. Glasses said
with a shrug. “Night would be simple enough, brunch would be simple but afternoon
and dinner..”
The other man smiled at his friend, “It’s what she
wanted.”
“Oh, I know, I’m just saying …”
“I know you’re just saying and I’m just saying …”
“I think a simple pinstripe gray would be the
perfect answer,” I interrupted, something I rarely do with customers. My
instincts told me that this banter easily could have continued, all afternoon.
They certainly had the ease of long time friends and knew each other’s next
statement in the long running game as well as their own. As I stepped closer to
the second gentleman, I caught a faint whiff of pipe on his clothes, instantly
naming him in my mind. Customer’s names were on the forms but for me, it was
easier to remember them by something more personal. Mr. Cash for the customer
who came in once a year after carefully saving for the next year’s suit and
always paid in cash, Mr. Double-breasted for the customer who refused to look
at anything else, Mr. Glasses for the obvious and now Mr. Pipe.
Mr. Glasses smiled, “That’s exactly what I was thinking.
But nothing with too much of a pinstripe. You don’t
want to be looking like a ballplayer.”
The other man rolled eyes and shot me an
exasperated look. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Understated, I promise,” I said with a
smile.
Fifteen minutes later, after careful review and
several rejections of pulled suits they had settled on two and Mr. Pipe
disappeared into the changing room to try them on. Against my nature and
probably proper business etiquette, I smiled at the other man. “Do you need a
new suit too or just the Father of the Bride?” A funny expression passed over
his until now cheerful and carefree face.
“Oh, unfortunately work has me out of town that
weekend and I can’t attend. I’m in advertising and one of my firm’s largest
clients has invited several of us to go hunting with him.” He paused for a
moment, glancing into space for a moment before adding, “I wish I could though.
I’ve known Allison since she was a baby and watched her grow up in the ever
changing photos on Jim’s desk and wallet.” He suddenly laughed, smiled and gave
me a small shrug, “But what are you going to do? We make our bed and then have
to lie in it.”
It seemed an odd comment to make about work and
watching the daughter of an obviously close friend grow up in photos but not
through Sunday dinners. Luckily the appearance of Mr. Pipe from the curtain
brought my thoughts away from areas it didn’t belong and once again centered on
my own work. Most men look good in suits. The formal cut and dark colors work
for almost everyone and improved the appearance in a way no trousers and
sweater could. This gentleman though was part of the elite two percent who
looked amazing. It wasn’t just the cut or the wool or the rich gray color but
more in how he wore it. There was no fussing with cuffs or playing with
buttons, just a simple confidence in how he looked.
“Well?” he asked, his eyes locked on Mr. Glasses.
The other man nodded, taking several steps toward
him before reaching out and adjusting a collar that didn’t need adjustment, his
hand lingering for just the briefest of moments on his friend’s chest. “There’s
no need to try the other one on, this is perfect.”
He smiled and gave a quick nod, “Yes. I think so
too.” Pausing for just a second, he lowered is voice even more, “Why don’t you
get something new too and we can both knock the socks off everyone there?”
Mr. Glasses gave a small twisted smile, “The day
will be stressful enough for Edith as it is, I
couldn’t do that.” He laughed, locking his eyes with his friend. “Plus, I have
to work. Have to go to save the world from rabid birds. You know they’re as
dangerous as the Russians.”
I watched as their eyes met for a moment and
wondered what they were thinking, what unspoken words were being exchanged
between them and why.
Mr. Pipe coughed slightly, the eye contact broken.
He flashed Mr. Glasses a quick smile as they stepped apart. “The sleeves feel a
bit long and maybe one turn of the cuff?” he said, the focus now on me.
I nodded toward the small raised platform. “Why
don’t you step up and I’ll get everything marked off.” Walking over, I picked
up the small containers of pins and knelt down and began to adjust the cuffs.
The adjustments were minor and my mind drifted toward the two men and their
relationship. They were obviously long time friends and close yet the friend
wasn’t attending the wedding even though he was invited and wanted there. I
assumed Edith was Mr. Pipe’s wife and she was the main reason for the lack of
attendance.
Mr. Pipe paid and I promised to have the suit ready
within the week.
“I’ll stop in on Saturday then,” he said with a
smile. Jerking his head in the direction of his friend, he added, “And I’ll be
working on him. You might get another sale too. I just have push
a bit.”
Looking up from the ties he was browsing through,
Mr. Glasses laughed and shook his head. “Pushing, that’s one word for it, I
guess. Come on, I’m hungry.”
I watched them leave and would have sworn I saw
Mr. Pipe’s hand linger on the other man’s back as he held open the door for
him.
1982
I was at the sewing machine shortening the sleeves
on a wool flannel jacket when I heard the doorbell tinkle as the two men
entered the shop. I removed my foot from the pedal and looked up to greet them
with a smile. They seemed to be about my age or a bit younger--in their mid to
late thirties. They carried themselves with an air of confidence one often sees
in attractive people.
The shorter of the two men held the door open with
a comfortable grace. He was tan, had soft fluffy hair that was only the result
of a handful of mousse and a blow dryer. He was well dressed, wearing a soft
blue sweater draped over his shoulders that set off the blue in his eyes. He
looked as if he had walked out of the pages of The Preppy
Handbook.
Their voices were slightly drowned out by the
beeping alarm of Mr. Blue Eyes’ large digital watch; he pushed at some buttons
to halt the sound. “I ran into Robert Blaylock the other day, he just got
promoted to head up a new division,” said the man in the blue sweater. “I would
love the opportunity to start a new department like that.”
“Oh, I think being made senior engineer is a
pretty amazing job,” said the taller man. His voice was deep and husky. He
directed his attention at me, and gave me a nod. “Which is
why we have come to get you a new suit.”
I paused to appreciate his brawny salacious voice,
so it took me a moment to respond. “Good afternoon,” I said, returning a nod to
Mr. Brawny. I turned to Mr. Blue Eyes, “So, you are looking for a new suit; do
you have anything specific in mind?”
“Ah well, this promotion will require that I
represent the company and make presentations to VIPs,” the blue-eyed man paused
to think.
“So, something upscale and sophisticated—a suit
that helps to convey confidence and authority. I have a couple of things in
mind,” I said as I motioned for the men to follow me toward a display of some
or our higher quality suits. “I like this navy fine stripe two-button jacket
and pleated trousers. The suit is fully lined and also comes in dark gray and khaki.
A double breasted jacket could also be a good option as it sets a more
conservative tone.”
The blue-eyed man gave a distasteful look at my
mention of the double-breasted jacket before replying, “I think I’ll stick with
the two button jacket.”
Mr. Blue Eyes looked to Mr. Brawny for his opinion
and again the man with the deep voice spoke, “They’re very nice, what sizes do
you have in the store?”
I looked over to Mr. Blue Eyes, “Hmm, you look to
be about a 42 jacket and a 34 trouser.” He nodded with an impressed look at my
skill. I’d been in this business for a little over twenty years; it was a bad
day that I was unable to size a man by looking at him. “I think I have those in
back.”
When I returned to the front of the store, Mr.
Blue Eyes was looking at the oxford shirts, while Mr. Brawny was flipping
through packages of Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren underwear. He then moved over
to the display of dress socks; he held up a selection of argyle, solid and
stripe socks for the blue-eyed man to see.
Mr. Blue Eyes frowned, “I don’t need any socks.”
The robust man rolled his eyes and then settled
them on Mr. Blue Eyes’ feet, bare inside his boat shoes, “Richard, you will
need to wear socks with your new suit,” he said with a bit of firmness to his
voice. “I’ll get these for you.”
I tried to contain the smile on my face, after all
the blue-eyed man was my customer, but adding socks to my sale would also be
helpful. I placed the suits inside a fitting room and motioned to Mr. Blue Eyes
that his room was ready.
Mr. Brawny took a seat on the chair outside of Mr.
Blue Eye’s fitting room.
“Christopher,” I heard Mr. Blue Eyes call from his
room, “really, I have enough socks. Besides you already gave me a
congratulatory gift. I love my briefcase.” Mr. Blue Eyes paused and when he
began to speak again his voice took an odd tone, it had a bit of pride,
mischief and an undertone of embarrassment. “With my raise in salary, I’m
making more than enough to buy my own socks.”
Mr. Brawny blushed and fumbled with the socks in
his hand. I wondered what their relationship was that they both seemed a bit
embarrassed by Mr. Blue Eyes new salary.
Mr. Brawny stood and lightly knocked on the
fitting room door. “Let me see how you look.”
The blue-eyed man emerged from the dressing room
looking ready to take over the world. The suit seemed to empower him--giving
him a more powerful and professional swagger than he had before entering the
dressing room.
“What do you think?” Mr. Blue Eyes asked.
Mr. Brawny viewed his blue-eyed friend and gave a
warm smile. “You look strong, handsome, and confident. I would give you my
business.”
Mr. Blue Eyes smiled at his friend as his cheeks
pinked slightly. “Thank you.” The blue-eyed man turned his attention to me, “I
think this is the one.”
I had the blue-eyed man stand on the small stool I
used for making alterations. I took out my fabric pencil, pins and measuring
tape, and marked his sleeves and trousers for the minor alterations I would
need to make.
Mr. Blue Eyes then returned to the dressing room,
removed the power suit and replaced his preppy clothes. He exit
the dressing room and handed me the jacket and suit trousers.
“Shall I ring you up, than?”
“Yes, I would also like these shirts and the
socks.” Mr. Blue Eyes answered as he placed his hands around Mr. Brawny’s to take the socks. “I think I could probably use a
few more pair.” He smiled at the man with the brawny voice and his hands seemed
to rest for a moment of reassurance before he took hold of the socks.
I placed the shirts and socks in a shopping bag.
“Thank you for your business,” I said to the men.
As the two men exited the store, I heard Mr.
Brawny say, “In that suit, I bet you’ll be a division director in no time.”
2002
The small bell tinkled as it was brushed by the
opening of the door and the entrance of the two men. It was old-fashioned I
knew but the bell had welcomed me to the store when I interviewed for my
position, on my first day of work and every day since. It had tinkled as Mr.
Becket walked out the evening of his heart attack leaving the store solely to
me and would probably do the same for me when my time came. Luckily, that would
– hopefully – still be a few years off. Right now, I had two customers to deal
with.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” I said
cheerfully, “is there something I can help you with?”
The younger gentleman, Mr. Superman thanks to the
ridiculous t-shirt he was sporting, grinned at me. “I hope so.” He glanced over
at his friend, laughing slightly as his grin widened. “We both need suits, please.
Complementary but …”
“Not matching,” the other man, Mr. Henley, said
with a small grin of his own. “Complementary but not matching
in the slightest.”
Mr. Superman laughed again as he shook his head,
“Fine, fine, not in the slightest but …”
I smiled and nodded, “Look good together?”
“Exactly,” the younger man said. Grabbing his
friend’s hand, he squeezed it, saying to the other man, “We agreed, remember?
Similar so we’re equals, no worrying about anyone wondering who the bride is
and who’s the groom?”
His comment, concern actually, took me back as the
pieces fell into place and I mentally changed the label from friend to
Boyfriend.
The boyfriend smiled and squeezed the hand back,
“You’re the only one who’s worried about that, Tony. But yes, I remember.”
Turning to me, he smiled and took a breath before saying, “We’re having a
Commitment Ceremony in a month.”
Smiling, I nodded. I knew, of course, that these
sorts of ceremonies were becoming more and more popular but it still seemed
strange to me. It wasn’t legal and just seemed silly. I had read an article a
couple of years ago that compared it to blind people getting together and
passing out certificates that said they could see. It didn’t change the fact
that they were blind, just like a commitment ceremony didn’t change the fact
that marriage was only between one man and one woman. “That’s wonderful,” I
said with a smile. Wonderful was my default answer to everything.
Mr. Superman laughed and nodded, “It is, isn’t it?
We’re actually having that song – What a Wonderful World – as we enter the
garden together.”
Despite my misgivings, I felt myself catch a small
bit of his excitement and joy. “So it’s a garden wedding ..
err ceremony?”
The older man laughed, “Don’t worry, we do the
same thing and call it a wedding too. But yes, whatever you want to call it,
it’ll be outside at 5pm and casual.”
“Women in hats, everyone drinking mint juleps and
eating finger sandwiches,” Mr. Superman interrupted. “A light
jazz trio going on in the corner, paper lanterns and lots of flowers.”
Mr. Henley kissed his lover’s hand, saying softly,
“He doesn’t need a whole description, hon, he gets
it.”
It was my turn to laugh as I nodded, “It sounds
lovely and I can picture it. I also picture you both in very light creams and
tans, yellows, those colors. I think anything dark would be too heavy for .. end of April? May?”
“The first Saturday of May,” the older man said,
“and I think that sounds perfect.”
Motioning them to follow me, I lead them toward
the back of the store. “Most of the summer things are still toward the back.
We’ve moved the winter things upfront to get them to move quicker while people
are still in the mood for blacks and grays.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Henley standing next to
me as we waited for his partner to emerge from the dressing room, he shifted
back and forth and sighed. “Would you like me to go back and see if there’s a
problem,” I asked. “Or, you’re welcome to head back yourself.”
He shook his head, “No, that’s fine, I’m sure
he’ll be out in a minute. Tony hates to be rushed.” He let out another breath
and said, “I bet this whole thing seems sort of silly to you, doesn’t it?”
I was horrified, hoping that nothing in my
expression had betrayed my thoughts. “No, not at all.
I think anything between two people that makes them happy should be
encouraged.”
Leaning closer, he smiled, “Well, it seems
slightly silly to me sometimes.” He gave a shrug, “But it just feels right and
it’s something that’s very important to him. I just … I think I had always
assumed that I wouldn’t be getting married. It was just one of those adult
rites of passages that I would be giving up as a gay man.”
Nodding, I remained quiet, letting him talk. Some
customers liked to talk, seeing me as a sort of confessor maybe, the same as a
bartender or barber. I considered it part of my job to let them do whatever
made them comfortable.
“Having kids, the white picket fence, whatnot,
just not in my picture, I figured,” he said. “But look at me now. We live in
the ‘burbs and even though we don’t have a picket
fence, we do have a black lab and now going to have a wedding, of sorts.”
I laughed, “Rather traditional if you ask me.”
“Tony was up in
“Was he there?” I asked softly, a loud voice
seeming almost disrespectful to the memory.
He nodded, “He was coming up from the subway right
after the first plane hit. He said he just grabbed his co-worker’s hand and
ran, pulling her along with him as they ran up the block. They ended up walking
back to their hotel and he was finally able to get in touch with me around
noon, hours after the collapse. I’d never cried at work before but when I heard
his voice on the other end, I cried.”
I heard his voice thicken at the memory and I knew
he was once again reliving that feeling and those hours. “I’m glad he wasn’t
hurt.”
“He had some nightmares for awhile, things he saw,
things he did but ..” His voice stopped for a second
as the younger man came out from the dressing area and he whistled. “Very
nice,” he said with a laugh.
“You like?” he asked, holding out the lapels and
sort of strutting toward his partner.
Reaching out, he grabbed him and pulled him
closer, bending down and kissing him on the nose, “I like.”
Mr. Superman grinned, “Me too.”
Silently, I agreed.
The End