“You guys are going to watch with us, right?” Walter asked as he rolled out some pizza dough.
“Oh, maybe some. That many movies in one day will make my head explode.” Sue wiped her hands on some towels. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Ocean’s Thirteen though. I missed that when it was in the theaters.”
“That one’s set for the second showing. I’ll let you know when it starts,” Walter promised.
They really did have a schedule too, on a marker board Walter propped up beside the entertainment center. The movies were listed under the heading SHOWTIMES and had little cartoon drawings next to their names giving a visual summary of the plot.
Their first movie was Kelly’s choice: WALL-E, which of course had a robot as its doodle. Kelly hadn’t seen the film in a few years, so it had a fresh feeling that thrilled him. Walter seemed to like it too.
“This is actually some pretty cutting cultural commentary,” he observed.
“I love how there’s no dialog for a huge chunk of the movie, but I get so invested every time.” He leaned against Walter’s arm. “The dancing-in-space part is my favorite. It always takes my breath away. I have the soundtrack, and I listen to ‘Define Dancing’ whenever I get depressed.”
The space-dancing scene was as wonderful as ever, and when the movie closed, Kelly felt very, very good.
Ocean’s Thirteen was next (visual was a pair of dice). Sue came down, and so did Dick, so they watched as a family. Kelly really liked it, and told Walter he’d be open to watching the others in the series sometime.
“We’ll do Ocean’s Eleven, though you may want to skip Twelve. It’s only okay.” Walter grinned as he changed out the discs. “I love a good heist movie. Plus, the eye candy in this series can’t be beat.”
Kelly had to agree. Matt Damon in particular had him going when he was seducing the manager, even with that stupid fake nose.
They took a short break after that, heading upstairs to stretch their legs. When Sue and Lisa found out French Kiss was next, they became excited and ordered the boys to wait for them. Dick went back to the game on the living room TV.
“Wow,” Walter said, as they headed back downstairs with a new round of snacks. “House favorite?”
“Yes,” Kelly admitted. “On many a Friday night when my peers were out getting laid in the back of pickup trucks, I was at home with my mother and sister watching French Kiss. I know, the irony bleeds.”
Walter smiled and ruffled his head.
It turned out to be very fun to watch French Kiss together, because Lisa and their mom called out favorite lines with him, and their excitement seemed to drag Walter along. When it was over, all four of them walked around in dramatic poses, saying, “I want you,” with bad French accents.
Movie marathons were awesome, Kelly decided. And since they’d started with their least favorite of their favorites, he could only imagine things would get better.
Then Walter put in Cold Comfort Farm.
It wasn’t so much that Kelly didn’t like it but that it was weird. It was definitely funny, though a lot of times it was like he had to turn his head sideways to get it. This movie, it turned out, was a Cara and Walter favorite. He texted her several times during the movie—It’s Urk! He’s ’orrible!—and when the show finished, Walter kept coming up behind Kelly and saying, in his best Ada Doom voice, “I saw something nasty in the woodshed.” Kelly laughed, but he privately admitted he was glad Tangled was next.
Lisa had watched Cold Comfort Farm with them, and said she liked it, but she was off to a party of her own by the time Tangled got started around nine, and Sue said she wanted to spend some time upstairs with Dick. This meant it was just Kelly and Walter, which was fine with Kelly. This was, hands-down, his favorite of his favorites. It was the newest, which had made him suspect at first he’d been attracted to shiny, not calling it his favorite out of merit, but as time had gone on, its appeal had only cemented. He had it on DVD and a digital version on his laptop. He had the soundtrack. Lisa had given him a plush Pascal last Christmas, and it sat prominently on his home dresser—too precious (and embarrassing) to take to school. For this Christmas, she’d given him the Tangled boat ride play set, very much a little girl’s toy, but it was already displayed next to Pascal. All the trinkets and music and posters, though, were simply reminders of the main event, which Kelly was about to enjoy again, this time with Walter. He couldn’t wait.
“I feel like I’ve been building up to this for months,” Walter teased as Kelly put the DVD into the player. “It’s the one Disney movie you aren’t embarrassed about liking.”
“Well, it helps that there are huge fan communities, many of them headed by adults. Though mostly I simply love this movie. It makes me so happy.”
“Then fire her up. I want to feel the love,” Walter declared.
Kelly had meant to check Walter’s face to see how he liked it, but he got so caught up he forgot almost until the very end. Just as they escaped Gothel’s castle and went back to reunite Rapunzel with her family, Kelly glanced at Walter.
Walter looked…weird. He was caught up in the film, which was good, but he didn’t look at all like Kelly felt when he watched Tangled. He looked very deer-in-the-headlights, like someone had snuck up behind him. He seemed almost wounded, which made no sense because they were at the happy ending. Flynn had a close shave, yes, but he’d made it, and everything was good. Rapunzel was going back to her parents, and they were so fantastic that they didn’t even say a damn word, just looked at her, touched her face and knew she was home.
Oh.
Glancing back at the screen, Kelly saw the king, overcome with emotion, look into his long-lost daughter’s eyes before he gave in to his happiness and embraced her and his wife both. They crouched to the ground, huddled like a unit. It was almost too cheesy, which was why it was so good—almost too cheesy. Right at the edge, which made it glorious. Flynn Rider looked on with a rueful smile, accepting the queen’s hand when she held it out to him. Then she pulled him in, making him part of their family puppy pile.
Without turning his head, Kelly shot a glance at his boyfriend.
Walter looked like someone had shot him in the chest, and he had tears in his eyes.
For the first time in the three years he’d been watching it, Tangled didn’t make Kelly feel euphoric and free—even after he moved his eyes back to the screen, the memory of how Walter looked echoed in his mind, and it put a pall on the happy ending that hadn’t ever been there before. In fact, things were weird until the cartoon montage over the credits and Grace Potter’s snappy “Something That I Want”. The tension eased, but Kelly still didn’t know how to behave. Should he act like nothing happened? Would that be worse?
Walter solved his dilemma by brushing a kiss against his cheek and murmuring that he had to use the restroom. Kelly continued to listen to the credits, going over various ways to diffuse the awkwardness, but when Walter returned, he was sunny and—mostly—acting like he hadn’t been brought to his knees by a cartoon.
“Well, there it is. Now I’ve seen the mighty Tangled.” He gave a slightly exaggerated sigh and popped the DVD out of the player.
Kelly gave up all his scenarios. “You didn’t like it.”
Walter seemed to take great care in not meeting his gaze, getting very focused on putting the disc back into its holder. “Not at all. It was a charming movie. I completely understand why it’s your favorite. It’s about as Kelly as a movie gets.” He put the case onto the watched pile and pulled out the last movie of the night. “The thing is, I can almost promise you that you aren’t going to like Fight Club.”
“Why?” Kelly panicked. First Walter didn’t like Tangled, and now Kelly wouldn’t like Walter’s favorite? Not good. “Why do you think that?”
Walter shrugged. “Just do.” He frowned and shook his head as he put the disc in the player. “I should have said a different movie. I think you’re really not going to like it.”
“But it’s your f
avorite,” Kelly pointed out. “Your very favorite.”
“Yeah, well—” Walter cut himself off and sighed. He waved a hand, as if dismissing the argument, and sat back down on the couch next to Kelly. “Okay, let’s just watch. When it’s over and you hate it, I’ll explain why I like it.”
Kelly was determined to like the movie, if only enough for the evening, if only to prove Walter wrong. Unfortunately, Walter called it. Kelly hated Fight Club. Like, really, really hated it.
It was depressing. It made him feel sad and confused and hollowed out. It reminded him of how he’d had to fake it in high school, being “one of the guys” and acting like violence was great, when in reality it made him feel sick to his stomach. The bloody scenes made his stomach turn, and Tyler Durden simply upset him in general. He didn’t get the big twist, either. He could think of three or four scenes right off the top of his head that made no sense given the reveal. Still, he was determined to put on a good face.
Walter saw right through it, but at least he laughed.
“I told you. You think it’s the worst movie ever made, don’t you?”
Kelly thought about fishing for a lie, but then he gave up. “Yeah. Sorry.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s really not my thing. But tell me why it’s yours.” At this point, Kelly almost needed to know.
Walter settled back on the sofa and threaded his fingers behind his head, staring at the still-rolling credits as he spoke. “The first time I watched it, I got so caught up in Tyler it was like I’d found God. I was twelve, and miserable, and angry, and I just wanted to be him. I watched it over and over, parroting lines, posting the rules of Fight Club on my wall, lying in my bed and imagining my Club Mayhem contributions.” He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Then, on about the fifty-first viewing, I realized that I’d missed about six layers of the movie. All of a sudden I realized the Fight Club guys were just replacing their corporate lives with another version containing fistfights. It bummed me out, because of course I had to look up and see I’d done the same thing. Then a few viewings later I realized I didn’t want a Fight Club, I wanted Sex Club—Gay Sex Club—but that it would probably be just as fucked up as Fight Club. For a while the movie made me very depressed. Except I kept watching it, like maybe I could find my way out if I did. And that’s exactly what happened. When I was eighteen and I watched it again, one day in my dorm room when I hated everyone, especially my roommate, I realized I could be my own Tyler without self-destruction. Yeah, maybe the world is fucked up and there’s no way out, but I could control me, and I could make myself strong. I could ride the tide of our corporate world and make it out okay, so long as I stayed in touch with myself.”
Kelly listened to this, turned sideways facing Walter with his head leaning on the back of the sofa. He listened, tried to digest it, because it was clearly important to Walter. He wanted to understand, too, if not find an appreciation for the movie, find an appreciation for Walter’s viewpoint.
He couldn’t.
“I guess the thing is,” Kelly began, “that was another one of those movies where everyone was depressing. I never liked anyone. Everyone was a jerk or a loser or so downtrodden it made me feel down too. The whole story stands on an assumption that everyone sucks, and in the end they still suck. I don’t get how that’s any fun. I like to be happy.”
“Yeah. You do.” Walter had turned to Kelly, and as Kelly waited for Walter to tell him he was being insensitive and rude, Walter smiled a sad smile and touched Kelly’s cheek. “I think that’s my favorite thing about you. You’re a happy-seeking missile. The damnedest thing is, you almost always find it.” He glanced toward the stairs, where the sounds of Kelly’s family could be heard drifting down. “I used to wonder how you managed it. I don’t anymore.”
That made Kelly feel bad, reminding him of Walter’s reaction to the end of Tangled. It reminded him too of how the few times Walter had checked in with his mom since he’d arrived, the conversations had been tense. He recalled the way Walter hunched over his laptop, typing up things for Rose’s Facebook group and sending emails to alumni. He’d heard Walter’s angry phone call with Cara too, because she hadn’t wanted to get involved in the letter-writing campaign.
Kelly’s one complaint in life was that they still didn’t know about his mom’s job, but even that was minor. The Davidsons all had cheery smiles, and they would, always, because no matter what happened, they’d simply find a way to carry on. He had Walter, he had his family, he had Rose—Kelly led a charmed life. He just didn’t understand exactly how it had happened.
He also didn’t know what to say.
With a heavy sigh, Walter snapped the TV off with the remote and pulled Kelly closer to him. “Sorry. I put a bummer on the end of our movie marathon.”
“Shut up. We were equal-opportunity bummers.” He snuggled back against Walter. He spied a clock on the other side of the room and saw that it was one thirty in the morning. He smiled, a little ruefully. “Happy new year.”
Walter lifted Kelly’s chin. Kelly caught a sad smile playing on Walter’s lips before they came down on Kelly’s in a soft, sweet kiss.
They had talked, earlier, about maybe making tonight The Night to have some sexual adventures, even though they weren’t at the hotel in Minneapolis, but Kelly knew the big sex ship had sailed. They made out in bed for a bit, but nobody so much as came. They ended up spooning, Kelly behind Walter.
“We go back in three days,” Walter pointed out as they lay there in the darkness.
Kelly stroked his arm. “What are the plans for Williams? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Walter caught Kelly’s hand with his and squeezed it. “I might have some freshmen you can approach, if you’re game. We gathered a list of longtime families who might have some sway with the board, and some of them are first-years.”
“Anything you need. Just let me know.” Kelly pressed a kiss into the back of Walter’s neck. “You guys are so organized. This has to work.”
“I wish that were the case.” Walter’s thumb stroked Kelly’s fingers. “I wish life were like those Disney movies. I wish people weren’t mostly depressing and weird like they felt to you in Fight Club. The truth is, usually people disappoint you.”
I’m not going to disappoint you. Kelly wanted to say that, but he knew better. He simply kissed Walter again and held him until he fell asleep.
Kelly took longer. He ended up finding his iPod and queuing up the Tangled soundtrack, listening to it all the way through until he got to “Waiting for the Lights”. He put that on repeat and listened to Alan Menken’s hopeful, happy swells, pressing his class ring into his palm as he let the music carry him off to dreamland and the promise of a better tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Walter was glad to be back at Hope, but at the same time he wasn’t.
Being with the Davidsons had been a good break from his usual family chaos and the hell that waited because of Williams’s job debacle, but at the same time seeing such a happy family reminded him how messed up his own was. It was hard to watch them be so connected. And Kelly—Walter didn’t even know where to start thinking about Kelly. Walter loved him, more every day, which was a huge fucking problem. Because Kelly didn’t just want, he expected his life to end up like that damn Disney movie. He failed to see how removed from reality that storyline was. Reality was the only thing Walter knew, and he’d learned long ago never to turn his back on it.
Where that left the two of them, he didn’t know. Happily, once they got back to Hope, he was too busy going to war to think about that too much.
Classes had always been something that happened vaguely on the side of Walter’s life, but they were pushed so far to the periphery now they were an annoyance when they had to be dealt with. Skipping was never an option at Hope—even the “large” lecture classes of one hundred students took attendance and cast penalties for too many absences—so Walter had to work them in around writing letters, staging demonstrations and pou
nding campus pavement as he and Rose and the rest of the communications students did their best to enlist soldiers.
Kelly was one of their recruits, and he proved to be a surprisingly good one. He had better personal-relations instincts than most of the communications majors—give him a few years and he’d be able to help someone run for office. While Rose and Walter huddled over laptops, consulting spreadsheets and arguing over what would be their next move, Kelly visited the student lounges with other volunteers, shaking hands and handing out flyers and sample letters to the editor. When their team held a Google Hangout with interested alumni, Kelly became the spokesperson in their window, passing forward information.
He was a great face for the movement because one, he was still the super-cute good boy from Mayberry, and two, unlike most of the upperclassmen, he wasn’t angry. Well, he was, but not so far down into his core that it came out in cold fury. Best of all, though, Kelly had a great backstory. At the Occupy Hope rallies that popped up on the main lawn, Kelly stood on the speaker’s bench—wearing the super-hot leather jacket, always—and turned the random rage at an overly mothering college back to the matter at hand. Yes, he was prepped for hours by Rose, given key words and sound bites, but it was Kelly’s authenticity and, frankly, downright Disney charm that kept winning the day.
“I came to Hope because it promised to be a community that took care of me. I was just coming out and wanted somewhere safe to practice being publicly authentic to myself. I have allergies, so I wanted somewhere that respected my health needs. I’m from a small town, so I wanted somewhere that felt intimate and not overwhelming. Hope seemed like all of that to me. Sure, it came with a high sticker price. My family and I decided it was worth changing our budget to make it work.
“Yet being here in person has not always been what was promised. I’m in an allergy-friendly room, but it’s a single being used as a double in the one dorm known for being unfriendly to gay men. I’ve had a lot of near-misses in the cafeteria with foods that would send me to the hospital. Now I’m finding out Hope is cutting a whole department, a department I was considering settling my major in. Hope for me looks less and less every day like a family that supports me and more and more like an institution eager to take my money but unwilling to deliver its promises.”
Love Lessons Page 25
