Home is a Fire

by Jordan Nasser

  “Hey, handsome,” I said, as he answered the door in a towel. “You are wearing far too many clothes.”

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “Sorry, babe. Practice ran late and I wanted to get a quick shower in before you got here.”

  “Without me?” I said. “I could have joined you.”

  “Maybe later,” he smirked, “if you’re lucky. Go on and grab a seat in the kitchen. I have a bottle of wine open. There’s some chili on the stove. Give it a stir for me and I’ll be right out.”

  He stepped away from me, letting his towel slip just enough so I could see just the top of that amazing ass. That man knew what he was doing, all right. Yes, I would just have to be patient. But still, I knew we had to start somewhere.

  He came out of his room with a pair of tight blue jeans on and a fresh t-shirt. “How’s the wine?” he said.

  “Good!” I handed him his glass. “Cheers, babe.” I took a sip and judged the temperature of the room. He was smiling, I was smiling, dare I broach the subject again? “So, listen, I know you’re being… cautious,” I tried to choose my words carefully, “but I was really hoping we could go out tonight, after dinner. There’s a little dive bar on the other side of town where we could go, and I’m sure no one would recognize us. We’ve spent every date night in, and I’d just like to get out with you, you know?”

  He held his wine glass tightly in his hand. He had stopped smiling.

  “Derek,” he paused. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Where is this place?”

  “It’s this little dive bar,” I started, hopefully. “The other side of downtown. Really, no one we know could possibly be there. It’s totally off everyone’s radar. It’s called Bottom’s Up.”

  He froze. Was there a reaction in his eyes?

  “The gay bar?” he said. “No way. Not gonna happen.” And that was it. End of discussion. I could feel him physically and mentally shutting down before my eyes.

  “Luke, no one will see us.”

  “I’m not going there,” he said, his voice rising slightly, “so you may as well stop asking.”

  “What’s your damage, Heather?” I had to lighten the mood before this got out of hand.

  “Enough with that ‘Heather’ shit, all right?” He slammed his glass down. Too late. He was angry. “I don’t get your pop culture references. I don’t watch RuPaul. I don’t want to make out with you in public and I don’t want to go to a gay bar tonight. I have my big game tomorrow, and tonight I just wanted to spend my time with you. Can we just sit down and eat, now?”

  I took a deep breath. I went too far. Baby steps, Derek. Baby steps.

  “Yeah, sure,” I said. “No problem. It’s probably not a good idea to go out before the Homecoming game, anyway. We need you to be fresh tomorrow, right?”

  I reached over and kissed him. He didn’t turn me away, but he didn’t exactly melt in my arms.

  “We’re okay?” I asked.

  “You know we are,” he said, and he pulled my chair out for dinner.

  But no, I didn’t know anything. Nothing was certain. Was I fucking it up, after all?

  18

  GAME DAY

  I woke up with Luke wrapped tight around me like a pretzel. At some point in the night I had became the “little spoon.” I loved the feel of his arms holding me and the rise and fall of his chest against my back. I had to accept a few realities after last night’s mini fight. Things were really progressing nicely, as long as I accepted the reality of the situation without pushing him. I loved spending time with him, but it was only good for him if we didn’t acknowledge each other in public or go out together to a bar. Yet. But I had faith that that would change.

  He began to stir, and I could feel his arms losing their grip, as his hands traveled across my back and a hundred little kisses covered my neck. Who needs a public affirmation when you have this? Or was I just lying to myself?

  “Morning, babe,” he said.

  “Mmmm, nice.” I did love those lips.

  “Big day today,” he said. “It’s game day, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” I said, and turned to look at him. “Bammy has had every class in school donating ‘a few extra minutes’ to make signs for the Homecoming. Are you nervous?”

  “Nervous? No. Excited, yes. I feel confident that we have a good team this year. I have a lot of really good seniors and just as many good junior players. No injuries. It’s definitely not a ‘rebuilding year’ for us,” he said. “I’m counting on us beating Billington this year. It’s not like my job depends on it, but it sure would be nice.”

  “Well, if our coach is any example of the shape our team is in, we won’t have any problem at all,” I said, and kissed him, feeling the muscles in his arms. “Go, Commodores.”

  “Let’s just hope it goes the right way. Shower?” He sat up.

  “You bet, Coach.” And we headed to the bathroom.

  Luke and I drove separately to work. I made a stop to pick up coffee on my way, just to make sure I was a few minutes behind him. He hadn’t said anything particularly paranoid, but I could feel that he was hyper aware of being seen together too much, so I wanted to make sure I did my best to ease his mind. Plus, I didn’t want to throw his game off today, considering it was such an important game, indeed. We are always playing some type of game in life, aren’t we?

  “Good morning, Miss Mabel,” I said as I walked into the reception area. “Is Bammy at her desk?”

  “Now Derek, you know I can’t keep track of all the comings and goings around here. That ain’t my job,” she said, without even looking up at me. “You know where her office is. Go find out yourself.”

  “Miss Mabel, don’t you pretend that you aren’t the one running the show around here,” I said. “Some of us know better.”

  She half smiled at me with a quick glance and a raised eyebrow and then went back to her business, staring at her computer screen as if it was all going to make sense to her if she just pushed the right buttons. I saw her differently now, after Barry told me about her and Aunt Janey. I wondered about their story, but I was afraid that I could never ask. We just don’t talk about those things, and our mutual silence on the subject was the most respectful way to proceed.

  Bammy was at her desk as I knocked on her doorframe. “Grande latte, Miss Talbot?” I said.

  “Oh, bless you, Derek!” she said, hand outstretched to grab the cup. “It has been insane around here this week. I just haven’t had the time to take care of myself. I’m sure I look a right mess.”

  “You look beautiful,” I said, as I took a seat opposite her desk.

  “Oh, you liar. And you’re not even trying to get into my pants.” We laughed. “Speaking of which, are you ready to tell me whose pants you have been into, lately? Because don’t think we haven’t noticed you haven’t been around too much. Tommy says for sure you’ve found a man, and Kit is just an eternal moment of silence. Did you bribe her, or something? What do you have on her?” She put the cup to her lips and carefully sipped.

  I rolled my eyes and took a sip, myself. “No, nothing like that,” I said. “Yes, there’s someone, but I’m just not ready to talk about it, okay? I just need a little space on that.” I tried to change the subject. “And I’ve just been keeping busy with Mom and Uncle Barry. It has been great catching up with them. And you know the Homecoming game isn’t the only thing going on at school,” I reminded her. “The musical goes up next weekend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Of course not. And we are all just as excited about that as Homecoming,” she lied, for my benefit. “It’s just, you know. Football kinda rules the roost here.”

  “I do, indeed.” And the football coach is ruling my roost, Bammy, and if you only knew just how much I wanted to tell you every detail. But I can’t. Not yet.

  “I’m just running to the salon to get my hair done after work,” she continued, “and then I’ll be at the tailgate party in the parking lot at about 6 o’clo
ck. See you then, I hope? Oh, and remember, Derek. Adult beverages are cool in the parking lot, but not in the bleachers. You’re a teacher now, and you’re representing the school.”

  “Go, Commodores,” I said, and I took my coffee and headed to my classroom.

  Homecoming is a pretty special thing in the South, and the high school was in full participation mode: posters on every wall, the majority of the students in Commodore colors, football players in their jerseys and letter jackets, cheerleaders in full uniform. I remember hating it all when I was a kid. I used to feel so awkward and left out. “Give them bread and circus,” my history teacher had said, in disgust, cross-referencing our modern lust for football with the ancient Fall of Rome. But now, I have to admit, I was definitely getting into the team spirit, and I’m sure the fact that I was falling head over heels for our football coach had more than a little something to do with it.

  The Parkville High Booster Club and Band Moms organized a tailgate party in the main parking lot before the game. I had sent Luke a text message saying “Break a leg,” but he hadn’t responded. Can you use theatre jargon for sports, too? Anyway, I figured he was busy as hell getting the kids ready for the game, so I tried not to read too much into it.

  I met Kit and Tommy in the parking lot. The weather had taken a sudden dip this past weekend, and we were all bundled in slightly heavier jackets and scarves. The alcohol we were about to consume was sure to warm us up, though.

  “Hey there!” Tommy gave me a one-armed man hug. “All good?”

  “All good,” I said. “How about you?” Tommy was kind enough to know when to ask the right, easy questions, but to avoid the wrong, more difficult questions.

  “Can’t complain,” he said. “Just busy with work and my girlfriend, you know.” He smiled and handed me a beer from the trunk of his car. “Beer, Kit?”

  “Oh, Tommy, you know I don’t do carbs,” Kit said. “Vodka soda, please.”

  “Coming right up,” he said. Always the gentleman.

  “So?” said Kit, looking at me as if she was saying everything by saying nothing.

  I just smiled and winked at her while Tommy finished making her drink. She gave me a quick thumbs up while his back was still turned and then held on tight to my arm.

  “Let’s get our game on, y’all!” Tommy said, as he handed her a drink, disguised in the plastic confines of an adult sippy cup. The school had a firm “No Alcohol” rule in the stands, but like every other situation in the South, people just looked the other way, as long as we behaved.

  Bammy sent us a text message to say she was on her way, and it wasn’t long before she joined us in the bleachers, just as the kick off began. The crowd was cheering and the stands were shaking with the rumbling of stomping shoes. Everyone was on their feet, paying close attention to the game, yelling their support. It was a crisp autumn night, and the air smelled of popcorn and hot dogs. I could see Luke down by the sidelines, surrounded by his assistant coaches and the players on the bench. He never looked up at me, but I imagined that he knew I was there, supporting him. I couldn’t wait to congratulate him on a job well done, as soon as we beat Billington.

  “We’ve got spirit, yes we do! We’ve got spirit, how ‘bout you?!” The cheerleaders yelled and high kicked from the sidelines, getting the crowd riled up. We scored quickly in the first quarter, and just never looked back.

  “Go, Commodores!” I yelled, popcorn flying from the bucket in my hands as I jumped up and down like a fool.

  “It’s great to see you with such spirit, Derek!” said Bammy. “I don’t remember you liking football so much.”

  “Oh, I’ve always loved football,” I said. “I just like it a bit more now than I used to.” Whoa, Derek. Slow down on that drinking. It won’t be long before Miss Vice Principal catches on. Loose lips, you know.

  Kit just smiled and took another sip of her secret vodka and soda from the plastic cup that Tommy had given her.

  The band put on a great show during half time, and we were all feeling fine, singing and dancing in the stands. Even Bammy loosened up and started drinking from our cups. The effects of a winning game and secret alcohol were catching up with all of us, and the team did not disappoint in the second half, either. Luke and his team were definitely on their way to beating Billington, there was no doubt about that.

  The crowd was pumped up beyond belief as our quarterback threw the winning touchdown and brought the game to a close. I was so proud as I watched Luke and the Billington coach meet mid field and shake hands.

  “That’s my man!” I yelled.

  “What did you say?” said Bammy. Kit stared at me, wide eyed, and Tommy was, thankfully, on his phone with Meredith, making plans for later.

  “Our man, I meant.” Shit. “That’s our man! A fine coach. Yep.” I put my cup to my lips and looked away, hoping she would not question me further.

  “Derek Walter, you are the worst liar ever,” Bammy said. “But we’re both a little tipsy, so I’m just gonna pretend that I didn’t hear that.”

  “Come on, y’all,” said Kit, saving the day. “It’s time to go celebrate.”

  “I just think we should tell the coach he did a great job,” I said.

  “Derek, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Kit. “We need to head on out, now.” She tugged me by the arm like a child, but I pulled away gently.

  “I’ll meet y’all at the car,” I said. “I won’t do anything crazy. I promise.”

  “Well, that cat’s officially out of the bag,” said Bammy. “Kit, I think you need to catch me up on some stuff. Derek, I know we can’t stop you, but please don’t do anything stupid. We’ll be at the car.”

  I walked into the steady stream of the football zombies as we pushed on down the stairs of the stadium stands. I was drunk and I knew it, but I was also focused. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I’m a greyhound. I just wanted to see Luke. I just wanted to tell him congratulations. Nothing wrong with that. Why are my friends acting so bizarre?

  I spotted him down by the sidelines, surrounded by an adoring crowd. A school photographer was taking his picture with the quarterback, and there were back slaps and high fives all around. His father, Red Walcott, was standing proudly at his side.

  “Luke!” I yelled, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Luke!” I pushed in further and forced myself into his line of sight. He just looked up at me, distractedly, and his smile faded.

  “Hey! Luke! Great game!” I said, too loudly. “Congratulations!” Not thinking, I reached up to hug him, but his arms stayed at his side, and he quickly pulled back.

  “Thank you for your support, Mr. Walter,” one arm extended to my shoulder, keeping me a safe distance from him. And he turned and put his back to me, as he walked further into the crowd of excited supporters. Red looked at me strangely, and I could feel instantly that I had made the wrong move.

  I felt like an idiot as I stood there, alone. The crowd shuffled along, following our winning coach towards the exit. Had I gone too far? All I did was try to hug him? Men hug, right? Should I not have done that? What was he thinking now?

  Shit. Go, Commodores.

  19

  LET’S PUT ON A SHOW

  The next week was miserable.

  I fucked up, and I knew it. In his eyes I may as well have proclaimed our eternal homosexual love in front of God and country, or at least that’s what I imagined he thought. I had to make it all up in my head, as he wasn’t speaking to me, at all. I sent him an apology text after the game, but he didn’t respond, of course. The next morning, I realized I had sent three messages, which was three too many. I know some genius out there must have invented an app that won’t let you text message if you’ve had too many drinks, right? I needed to find one, yesterday. Hello, Silicon Valley. Don’t drink and dial!

  By now, Bammy and Tommy knew everything, as it was obvious as hell. I gave Kit the go ahead to tell them the whole story, but I couldn’t face the situation myself. I didn’t want to talk ab
out it. I wanted to stay in bed and crawl under the sheets and die. Unfortunately, I couldn’t. As an adult with a job, I had responsibilities, so I threw myself full force into my work. This was tech week, and show time was Saturday, so we had a lot of work to do on the musical.

  I didn’t see Luke at all in the teachers’ lounge on Monday. I’m sure he was avoiding me, and the pit in my stomach grew larger every morning as I approached the school. This felt worse than any crush I had ever had as a teenager. When I finally did spot him walking towards me, I tried to catch his eye, but he just powered through, as if his conversation with the pretty blond science teacher was the most interesting thing he’d heard all week. He was out to prove something, and if he hurt me in the process, well so be it.

  Damn it, Luke. Yes, I made a mistake, but now will you look at the mistake you are making? Do not lose me. We are good together.

  I spent my nights working on the show. I was really proud of the kids. They had so much talent, and their hard work was paying off, considering the small budget for the Arts Program we were allotted by the school district. Bammy, Kit and Tommy were coming to support us on opening night, as well as Mom and Uncle Barry.

  But, Luke? After four days of silence, I caved. I called. The phone rang four times and then went to voice mail, so I knew he wasn’t on the phone. He just wasn’t going to take a call from me.

  “Hey, it’s me. But you know that,” I started, unsure of what to say, even though I had rehearsed it four times. It all went out the window the second I heard the beep. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know… I fucked up. I should have let you have your moment and just praised you from afar, like everyone else. But babe, I was so proud of you, and I wanted to tell you. I wanted to stand by your side. And I know now that that was stupid. Well, not stupid. Just misguided. Just a really bad choice, fueled by hormones and adult beverages. But I did it, and I’m so sorry. I really am. And the last few days have just been awful. I miss you like hell, and I just wanted you to know that. I wish we could talk this out, and I hope I’ll hear back from you. I really do. Because, you know… I have your socks. And I have to return those.” And I stopped. I was silly, now. Lame. Rambling the lovesick song of a tortured teenager. I honestly didn’t know if I was making it worse, but at this point I had nothing to lose. “So… can we talk soon? My show is tomorrow, Friday. I hope you can come.” And I hung up.