Page 4 of Dreams and Reptiles

I could see myself having morning coffee on the deck upstairs, overlooking the lake. I’d have peace and quiet when I wasn’t hosting retreats or classes. I’d need to find an assistant, preferably someone local who would help me navigate Foggy Basin’s social scene. Hosting events for the locals would be a nice way to fill in the spots between bigger groups from out of town.

Derek’s phone rang, and I encouraged him to take the call so I could wander by myself. He handed me the keys and waved me off.

I went from room to room in the big house, then I walked around the pool and into the building with the guest rooms. They were basic, dusty, but in good shape, with very little work to get them ready to be rented out. There was a gorgeous view of the lake from the wall of windows in the great room. The kitchen was decent-sized but would need some upgrading.

This place would be perfect for the thoughts percolating in my head.

A place for me to start over, where I could bring happiness to other people. Maybe folks who worked hard and could take time for themselves every so often to pursue their passions. Or perhaps some like me, who’d done everything they’d been told they were supposed to do and had been left feeling empty. Whatever the case, this place could be a house where dreams come true.

All I had to do was take the plunge.

Two months later…

The morning you wake up as a first-time homebuyer should be marked with some sort of celebration. Instead, I was up early eating leftovers for breakfast and listening to Doja Cat’s “Love to Dream” on repeat.

Max and Mei had said goodbye last night after I treated them to dinner—I also gave them an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii to be taken at their leisure, perhaps even as a honeymoon—and stayed at her place, so I had the townhouse to myself. The plan was not to panic, but my excitement was matched with an equal amount of trepidation.

I was about to leave the Bay Area.

I was about to live by myself for the first time in a giant house fifteen minutes from the nearest town.

I was about to embark on a new adventure, chasing my dreams while helping others achieve theirs.

Today, I’d be moving into Maison de Reve—the Dream House—and I was as terrified as I was relieved that it was finally happening.

I’d kept Mei and Max entertained over the past couple of weeks, talking about my plans for various retreats. Mei was excited to come up and visit. Max was glad I was moving on, but he said he’d miss me. He might miss the Francis of the Before Times, but he wouldn’t miss the lump who’d lived with him for over a year now, the mess who’d haunted his townhouse, drinking too much, not eating enough, and crying buckets as his world crumbled.

That Francis had finally cried himself out and found a new calling.

What if the next stage of my life could be not just finding myself while doing the things I’d always loved but was never able to do, but also creating a safe space for others to do the same?

All it had taken to finally get me moving was a Pride celebration with my beloved cousin Derek in the small town of Foggy Basin. A place where so many folks had come to start over, including several queer folks whom I’d met over the past couple of months when I’d visited with Derek. I’d already scheduled bi-weekly ballroom dance socials and crafting opportunities for locals. I even had my first wedding booked for September, and I hadn’t even moved in yet.

The movers had already taken my stuff from storage and my car out to the new house, but I’d postponed the full move while a few cosmetic tasks were done to the property. I didn’t have much to move. After college and grad school, I’d moved back in with my parents. It was expected that I stay there until I got married, and I hadn’t been in a hurry to do so. My work/life balance tipped the scales toward chronic workaholic-ism—was that a word?—so we rarely saw each other. My excuse was that if I was going to plop down well over a million bucks for a decent place to live, I’d want to have a generous nest egg and pay cash for it.

I’d probably still be living with them if it weren’t for My Demise. My parents would likely have remained married as well. Not that I was carrying any guilt around.

None whatsoever.

My mom was coming to pick me up so we could drive out to my new place together. She was still thinking about my proposition, that she and Aunt Judy move into the cottage on my property—my property. Every time I thought it or said it, my heart did this wild dance, as if I’d been hit with a defibrillator—and help out with Maison de Reve.

Mom and Judy had grown up working in their parents’ restaurant, and when Mom had me, Judy took it over with her husband. Mom watched me, Max, and Derek, and she supported my father in his career as an investment banker. When Uncle Gordon passed away two years ago, Aunt Judy sold the restaurant, and she and Mom were thick as thieves once again, getting into trouble wherever they went. I told them they could be involved however they felt comfortable, and they could go to the casinos and shopping whenever they wanted. It didn’t have to be forever, but they could stay as long as they liked.

I showered, packed the rest of my stuff, and was doing the dishes when Mom arrived.

“I feel like I should be wearing cowboy boots,” she said. “Do people wear cowboy boots where we’re going?”

I rolled my eyes. “I would imagine a few do, yes, but for the most part, people there aren’t too different than here. Maybe they like life a little slower paced and are more involved with their neighbors, but we’re not moving to the wild west.”

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Aw. That might be fun. I’ve never met a real cowboy.”

Mom talking about meeting men had me shuddering. I hadn’t thought about that aspect of her moving with me.

“What does Dad think of you potentially moving away?” I asked, as we got onto the freeway. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“What I choose to do with my life is no longer his concern.” She held her chin up high, but there was a crease in her forehead that let me know the topic troubled her.

“Mom,” I began. “I know you said it wasn’t about me⁠—”