He grinned. “I didn’t know you were gay until you told me. Well, I thought you might be, but I wasn’t sure. You aren’t married and never talk about women, and a couple of times I thought I caught you checking out my butt, so I was hopeful.”

“Did you say fag to see how I’d react?” I asked.

“No, I swear. That was just stupid locker room talk. I’m really sorry about that. But,” he added, throwing his arm around my shoulder, “at least I know for sure you’re gay.”

“I’m still not sure what you are.”

“I’m into you,” he said, “and I thought maybe you’re into me too. Isn’t that enough?”

I stood up and went back to the photographs on the wall, to buy time while I processed the moment. A straight guy who liked having sex with guys sometimes? What did that even mean? I had no frame of reference here.

“Angel Island,” I said. “That was the immigration center. The Ellis Island of the west.”

From the couch, he replied, “Not really. At Ellis Island, they let people in. Angel Island was there to keep people out. Chinese people, mostly.”

“The writing on the walls of the barracks? What does it say?”

He was standing behind me, peering at the photographs. “They’re poems written by the men who got stuck on the island. This one says, ‘For what reason must I sit in jail? It is only because my country is weak and family poor. Even if my petition is approved and I can enter the country, when can I return to the mountains of Tang?’” He put his hand on my shoulder. “My people suffered trying to get here.”

“And when they made it to the mainland, they died in the thousands building the railroads for the Stanfords and the Crockers at half the pay the white workers got.”

“See, that’s the other thing I like about you,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “You fight for the little guy.”

I moved away. “Do you want to have sex with me because you like me or am I just convenient?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not gay? Fine. I am. I like you too. When I have sex with a guy I like, it’s more than a physical thing. I won’t have sex with you just because you’re tired of jerking off.”

He frowned. “If getting off was all I wanted, I could’ve picked anyone. I picked you because… we’re friends, right. I thought we could help each other out and have some fun while we were doing it. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”