by Rick R. Reed
Truman shrugged. “Maybe not. But I think it might start some people thinking. Doubting. I mean, look at Mr. Bernard. He’s all man, and he came out of the closet, even with having had a wife and two kids, and no one was really all that shocked.” Truman stared off, trying to peer into the shadows the trees made on the island across the water. “Not everyone is a sissy like me. Not every gay person. Maybe you shouldn’t be so afraid of who you are. People might not be as hard on you as you think. They certainly wouldn’t be as hard on you as you were on me.” And it was Truman’s turn to stare pointedly.
Kirk didn’t say anything for a while. When he spoke, though, he surprised Truman.
“Oh, you’re so sure of yourself. But just because you think I might not understand you, don’t get all high and mighty on me and think I don’t know myself. Maybe I just don’t know who I am yet.” He glanced over at Truman. “You’re lucky that way. You may have been the butt of jokes and got beat up on the playground a lot, but people always knew who you were. You had no choice but not to hide it. In a weird way, I envy you that.”
Truman was shocked. He said softly, “Believe me, it’s nothing to envy. Did you ever cry yourself to sleep because every kid in your class thought it was funny to call you a girl? Did you ever take an extra half hour to walk home from school so you could cut through the woods, hiding from those who would beat you up? Did you ever get down on your knees and pray to God to change you? To make you like everyone else? Did you ever wish just to be normal?” Truman stared at Kirk and saw no light of empathy or recognition dawn in his eyes.
“I didn’t think so.” Odd came bounding back, and Truman picked up the stick and flung it again. He wondered if the dog would ever reach an age where he would tire more easily.
Kirk leaned in close. “Look, I’m sorry your life has been hard. I just mean, you don’t, I don’t know, have to carry around a secret like I do. You don’t have to wonder if no one would like you or want to be with you if they knew the truth of who you were. If they knew the kind of porn you looked at on the computer.” Kirk snickered. “Or the shit that creeps into your dreams at night.”
Truman patted Kirk’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay. Even if you come out. You know why? Because you’re gorgeous. You’re confident. You’re sexy. Coordinated. People will always be drawn to you. No matter what. You’ll see. Someday you’ll come out, and you’ll have a bunch of gay friends and they’ll all be just like you.”
Truman picked up another stick, made lazy designs in the sand at his feet because he couldn’t bear looking at Kirk. “Unlike me, who has to rely on being a ‘free spirit,’ or no, ‘interesting’ in order for people to take notice. Even if you came out, which you will eventually, you’ll look down on me, you and your perfect gay friends. You’ll still laugh.”
“No. No we won’t.”
Kirk slid an arm around Truman, and Truman didn’t know whether he should shrug it away or lean into the embrace. He was about equally divided, which put him in a tough spot for decision making. So he just sat there, listening.
“I’m not a good talker like you,” Kirk said. “But I think what I’m trying to get at is you’re a brave kid. You have the courage to be you.”
“Did you read that somewhere? Have you been watching that TV show? Becoming Us?”
Kirk chuckled, “No. No, I mean it.”
He leaned in, and before Truman could even ready himself, Kirk kissed him. It wasn’t a friendly little kiss either, but a hungry one, with tongue and an almost ravenous intensity.
Truman couldn’t pull away. Everything got blurry, got confused. And because he didn’t pull away, the next thing he felt was Kirk taking his hand. For a moment Truman thought, How sweet, he wants to hold my hand, and then reality reared its ugly head as Kirk moved Truman’s hand to his crotch. Truman felt Kirk’s erection straining against the worn denim. And for a moment he considered doing what he knew Kirk wanted him to do, what he’d done so many times in the past. He could pull the dick free of its material confines, slip quickly to his knees, and take it into his mouth, sucking, swirling his tongue, teasing it until it spurted into his mouth.
There was temptation to do that again. If Truman really wanted it, could he call it being used? Weren’t they both getting something out of it? His fingers pressed against the denim, and Kirk let out a small groan.
But then Truman remembered all those other times and all those other blowjobs. What happened after Kirk came in his mouth? Quick wiping up, sheepish grin, and vanishing into the woods.
Truman knew how the scene would go because it had been repeated so many times.
So he leaned back and disengaged his hand from Kirk’s. “No. Not this time,” he said, even though there was a pang of regret nagging at him.
“What do you mean?” Kirk asked, his words petulant, a little angry. He reached over quickly and gave Truman’s crotch a little squeeze. Truman was equally hard; he knew it. Kirk said, “You know you want it.”
Truman stood, and as if to show his allegiance, Odd Thomas came to sit quietly at his feet. “No, Kirk, I don’t.”
“Why not? C’mon…,” Kirk urged.
Truman shook his head. “It would be just like the other times.”
“No, it won’t. I promise.”
“You’re just saying that because you need release. Go find it somewhere else.”
Kirk’s mouth dropped open. Truman realized he’d never refused him before. Had anyone had the nerve to refuse Kirk Samson? This must be a humbling experience for him.
“C’mon,” Kirk continued to whine. “No one has to know.”
“And that’s just the problem.” Truman took a step back, farther away from Kirk, and looked down on him. “No one ever has to know. You want to live a secret life when I’ve worked hard to make sure who I am is out in the open. I’m not ashamed. God made me who I am. He made you too. I’m not gonna hide anymore. What you do is up to you.”
Kirk tugged the zipper of his pants down. Truman couldn’t help but look.
“Please,” Kirk begged. “Just once more. For old times’ sake.”
Truman shook his head. “You’re pathetic. I gotta go.” He started walking away. Odd was immediately on his feet and following.
“Why not, Truman?” Kirk called after him.
Truman paused at the entrance to the woods. He put his hands on his hips. “You know, you’re just pretty enough that even I might be tempted to make the same mistake again. Break my own heart again. Feel ashamed again.” Truman paused, considered the budding trees above. Then he looked back at Kirk. “But I won’t. And do you know why?”
Kirk shook his head.
“Because I got me a boyfriend, Kirk. And to be with you? Well, that would be cheating.”
And Truman began the ascent up the riverbank without waiting to see if Kirk had a response.
Chapter 18
THE SUMMITVILLE High School gymnasium had been transformed. Thanks to yards and yards of white crepe paper, scores of silver Mylar balloons, and several strategically placed rented disco balls, the scene of basketball games and tortuous gym classes had become a portal to a magical wonderland. The decorating committee had arranged round tables around the perimeter of the dance floor. Each one boasted an arrangement of fresh ivy cut from senior Cathy White’s parents’ old redbrick home, which had an endless supply. Flickering fake candles topped each table.
The DJ was queuing up her playlists on the stage overlooking the scene of that year’s prom. Right now, something soft and ethereal was playing.
Seth told Dane, “That’s Helen Jane Long. I listen to her when I’m feeling meditative. Very new age. I’m surprised the DJ would choose that for a high school dance.” He looked up at Dane in the pale, shimmering light and couldn’t believe they were at the prom together. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to jump for joy. Of course, for all intents and purposes, the official line was that they were chaperoning the prom together. Dane was, after all, the designated senior class adviser,
and Seth had led the decorating team, using money left over from the staging of West Side Story as that year’s spring musical.
But here, in this moment, before they opened the doors to the prom-goers gathering outside the gym, expectant in their tuxedos and gowns, it was just the two of them and the pink- and spiky-haired DJ across the way, but she was paying them no mind.
“She’s just messing around. Testing sound levels, I’m sure. She’d get booed off the stage if she tried to play that.” Dane cocked his head and listened. “It is pretty, though.”
“Wanna dance?” Seth leaned into him.
Dane laughed, abashed. “What? Now? Here?” Dane eyed the room nervously, as if a thousand spectators hid in its corners, in its shadows.
“Yes. Before anyone comes in. Before the place gets swamped with adolescent pheromones and chatter.”
“What about the DJ?”
“She doesn’t care. I think she’s a lesbian, anyway.”
Dane peered into Seth’s eyes, and the ocular connection, as it always did, melted Seth in some places while hardening him in others. Dane touched Seth’s cheek, and just the simple gesture caused a tingle to rush through Seth’s entire body.
He loved this man! He couldn’t help it. They had tried to be sensible, to not rush heedless into love, not when Dane was still nursing his family through the loss of Dane’s wife and his kids’ mother, not when Seth should have still been tending to his bruised and cheated-on heart.
But love didn’t wait for the right time, as they both had learned. Love kept its own timetable, and how that schedule ran was a mystery. Secret trysts had gradually become more and more public—well, some parts of their relationship still remained very private. They did have some propriety, after all—until they were dating, in full view of not only the school but Dane’s kids, who were surprisingly blasé about their father having a boyfriend.
Even Clarissa. Especially Clarissa. Seth knew it had taken her a while to adjust, but once she had, she embraced her father with passion and a fierce protectiveness. Seth would never want to cross her.
“So do you? For me?” Seth suddenly realized he desperately wanted this moment—just the two of them, alone, in the flickering light—in each other’s arms.
“Well, maybe just a quick sweep around the dance floor.”
They embraced—and began to move. As they stepped out and into open space, the DJ increased the sound of the music. Seth found himself melting into Dane’s huge bear hug, his feet feeling as though they had left the floor. For a moment the room, the cheesy decorations, and even the music disappeared in the flickering light. For Seth, all that existed was this man, his warmth, his perfect fit as he embraced him. He laid his head against Dane’s chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.
Seth thought of the slow fire of their relationship, how it gradually ignited and then leaped into flame, refusing to be denied. Over Dane’s shoulder, he saw the DJ watching them, grinning.
The song ended all too soon, and Seth let Dane be the one to break away.
“We need to open the doors now.”
“Let the hordes in.” Dane nodded. “Can’t we just barricade ourselves in here? Have our own private prom?”
Seth winked. “I’ll give you your own private prom—later. At my place.”
“We don’t have to go there. Joey’s staying at his buddy Ethan’s tonight, and Clarissa will be here and then at the after-prom. She won’t be home until morning.”
“I like having you at my place,” Seth said. “But are you actually saying we could spend the night at your house? In your bed?” They had made love at Dane’s—when the kids were gone. Afternoon quickies on their lunch hours. Hurried mornings after the kids headed out to school. But never a whole night….
“I think it’s time.” Dane smiled. “And I think the kids will be okay tomorrow, facing you over pancakes and sausage.”
“Well,” Seth said, “as long as I don’t have to cook them.”
“Or better yet, maybe I’ll take you to some seedy motel out on Route 7,” Dane whispered in Seth’s ear. “Make you my sex toy.”
And Seth suddenly wanted to leave right now.
“Big words, big man.” Seth started toward the bank of double doors opposite them. The noise from the crowd outside was a rising roar of voices and laughter. Seth glanced back at the DJ, who gave him a thumbs-up and launched into the theme for that year’s prom, Paramore’s “Ain’t It Fun?”.
As the music swelled, so did the crowds nearing the doors. Seth and Dane pushed them open and then stepped back, smiling and watching as a tsunami of teenagers entered the gym, smelling of perfume, cologne, hair spray, and most of all, hormones.
“Easy!” Seth cried. “No pushing!”
They flitted to tables, the more popular kids grabbing the ones immediately adjacent to the dance floor first, even though no one yet had the nerve to be the first to dance.
Seth eyed Dane across the heads of the crowd, smiling. Dane had worn a simple dark suit, and it made his shoulders look even more massive, while the dark color accentuated how trim the big man actually was. Seth hoped Dane appreciated the work that had gone into what he had on: a simple navy blue silk suit, white shirt, and blue-and-red-striped repp tie. He had tamed his curls with gel and left his glasses at home, putting in the contact lenses he seldom wore.
Tonight would be a first—spent at Dane’s house. Seth hoped it would be the first of many.
IT WASN’T until much later, after everyone had settled at the various tables and the dancing had begun in earnest, that the last couple to make the dance entered the gymnasium.
Seth nodded to the double doors. “Just like him to wait to make an entrance.”
He grinned, and Dane followed his gaze.
And there stood Truman, poised and waiting at the entrance to the gym. Seth felt his breath catch a little, having a quick vision of a scared boy who wanted to be invisible, atop a rooftop, ready to jump.
“Just like him,” Dane said and chuckled. Dane gave a low whistle. “Look at that getup. Kid’s got balls.”
Truman, who was always at a loss for money, was never at a loss for imagination. And he was ever the richer for it. Tonight he wore black. A black sarong (probably a curtain, but who was analyzing?), black combat boots, and a cropped black jacket that Seth suspected belonged to his mother, Patsy. Under the jacket, a white T-shirt with one of Truman’s sayings scrawled in marker across the front. Truman was too far away for him to decipher what the boy had chosen to highlight on this T-shirt.
And next to him stood Darrell Adams, an older boy from Truman’s neighborhood, brother to Alicia, who was in the same grade with Truman and who had become his best friend, ever since she’d stood up for his sartorial choices in one of Dane’s classes.
Seth leaned into Dane. “Looks like Truman is getting along very well with the Adams family.”
Dane snickered. “The Adams family.”
Seth shook his head. “Truman doesn’t have bad taste. That kid is hot.”
And Truman’s date was hot. A couple of years older than Truman, Darrell Adams towered over him by at least a head. His skin was dark cocoa and stood out against the all-white tux he wore. There were no crazy embellishments on his suit, just the simple tuxedo, with a black cummerbund and bright orange silk tie, which matched the dyed strip in Truman’s hair. The funny thing was, he was paying no mind to the crowd in the gym, who were slowly quieting as they noticed the couple standing poised, hand in hand, at the gym’s entrance. No, Darrell only had eyes for Truman. He stared down at his date with something Seth thought approached wonder.
And Truman looked back up at him.
“If they don’t both have stars in their eyes, I don’t know what to think,” Dane said. “I feel so proud of that kid.”
Seth nodded as the newest couple to the prom moved forward. As if arranged, the dancers on the floor parted to make room for them. The song that was playing, some dance tune by Lady Gaga, halted
abruptly. Seth looked over to see the spiky-haired DJ fiddling with her controls.
And an odd selection emerged from the speakers, from a band Seth was sure was popular when these kids weren’t even born—the Flamingos. The song? “I Only Have Eyes for You.” Darrell moved confidently to the center of the dance floor, as if the song, the dim lights, and the crowd stepping back to form a circle around the couple were all his and Truman’s due. He stood and waited, hand extended, for Truman to follow. When Truman caught up, Darrell took him in his arms, and they swirled around the dance floor as everyone watched, smiling.
Seth shook his head to clear it of the fantasy. Actually only a few people noticed Truman and Darrell come in, but here was the thing—none of them seemed to care. Once upon a time, there would have been pointing and laughter, nudging. Name-calling. Even as recently as Seth’s high school days, the thought of two boys attending prom together was unheard of, would have been an event to involve the school board and make the papers.
Seth looked around at the kids, more and more of whom had noticed Truman’s arrival. Sure, there were a few smirks, a few rolls of the eyes, but nothing that appeared truly cruel or threatening.
“Things have come a long way,” Dane said.
He took Seth’s hand and squeezed it, intertwining their fingers. The gesture was not lost on Seth. Dane had never allowed them any kind of public display of affection, especially not at the school. Yet here was Dane, clutching his hand. Anyone could see. And Dane, clearly, was not afraid. Seth squeezed back and felt a lump form in his throat. Sometimes the smallest gestures could have the biggest impact.
Darrell and Truman actually waited by the doors until the DJ played the next song, which was a slow one, Beyoncé’s “XO.” Seth wanted to stand and applaud the DJ’s choice. The song, with its lyrics about bright light even in the shadows, was a perfect metaphor for the young couple taking to the dance floor. He squeezed Dane’s hand tighter as Truman and Darrell actually began to move together to the music—for real this time.
