"So I'm pretty sure Frank is gay," Veronica said to the next time I saw her, which happened to be the following morning. She had picked me up and we were driving over to the nearest Barnes & Noble for some Starbucks coffee and to browse the paranormal romance paperbacks on sale.

"You think? He doesn't strike me as that type."

"Anything's possible."

I tried to imagine Frank being gay. "I don't see it."

"He's never had a girlfriend, that I know of," Veronica began counting on her fishnet-gloved fingers. "His two best friends are girls. He doesn't seem to even be interested in flirting."

"Maybe he's just not interested in flirting with you."

Veronica gave me a look.

"And, he's been ditching us to spend time alone with some strange guy. Very suspicious, if you ask me."

I couldn't believe Frank was gay. Still, it shed a whole new light on things.

To this day, I can't be sure that Frank wasn't gay. The scientific, rational explanations for things, the simple theories, they are hard to let go in the face of the irrational. The supernatural. Perhaps in centuries past, people might have been more willing to believe. Not these days. These days, we deny that Other as much as possible.