“I was planning to apply to UMD, but now that they’ve cut their swim program, I guess I’m shopping around. I’d like to stay in state, though. Save money on tuition.”
“UMBC has a swim program,” Lucas said.
Zach smiled at him. “And a music program, I presume?”
Lucas lowered his eyes. Had he overstepped?
Zach nudged him. “Yeah, UMBC is definitely on the list of possibilities.”
“I bet they have a gay club there,” Mason blurted.
“I don’t think they call it that, bro,” said Zach. “But yeah, I’m sure they do.”
“You can meet other gay guys there. After you ditch Lucas. And I’m not your bro.”
Zach looked taken aback.
“Mason, what’s gotten into you?” his mom said. “Apologize to Zach.”
“Why should I apologize? He’s the one who abandoned the team. And made Lu have a total meltdown.”
Mason hadn’t called him Lu in years. Not since they were kids.
“He’s right,” Zach said. “I do owe you an apology. I let you and the team down. I’m really sorry. I promise not to do it again. And I promise I’m not going to do anything to hurt Lucas, either. I really care about him.”
All eyes were on Mason as everyone awaited his response. Mason reached for his drink and slurped on his straw. “Fine.”
Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. Rage-Mason was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now.
“But there’s a few things you should know. About Lucas,” Mason insisted.
“Mom,” Lucas said with pleading eyes. “Tell him to him stop.”
“Mason, we’re here to celebrate your brother’s accomplishments, not embarrass him. If you don’t have something nice to say, just keep quiet.”
“No, let me finish,” Mason said, plopping his drink back down on the table. “If you’re going to be Lu’s boyfriend, then you have to love his quirks too.”
“Mason, this is hardly the time—”
“I do,” said Zach. “Love his quirks, I mean.”
Lucas felt Zach squeeze his knee, sending tingles up and down his leg.
“He dances hula,” Mason said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Mason!” Lucas hid his face in his hands.
Zach chuckled. “Hula?”
“Yep. He’s a hula dancer. Took classes and everything.”
His mother nodded. “He’s actually very good.”
“That was a long time ago,” Lucas said, his voice muffled. “I was a kid.”
“Yeah, but you still do it when you think no one’s looking,” Mason said. “I’ve seen you.”
Lucas opened his fingers a crack to peek out at Mason. “I hate you.”
Zach cupped a hand around Lucas’s ear and whispered, “That’s totally hot. I want a demonstration.”
Lucas was glad his face was still hidden.
“And he writes poetry. About everyone.”
Lucas uncovered his face and rolled his eyes. “He already knows that.”
“That’s true too,” his mom said. “No one is safe from our little bard.”
“I like his poetry,” Zach said.
“Oh yeah? Wait until he writes a poem about you being a beaver.”
Lucas laughed in spite of himself. “Hey, I liked that poem.”
They all chuckled, and Lucas was relieved that the tension had been broken.
“Oh—and you have to wear socks around him, because he plays toes.”
Lucas covered his face again. Mason was really digging deep now….
“You like to play with toes?” Zach said. “That’s cute.”
“No,” Mason said. “Not with toes. He likes to play toes.”
His dad cleared his throat loudly, then looked down at his napkin. His mom covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her smile. Zach looked confused.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Lucas said. “I was six!”
He may have only been six, but he’d developed an unexpected obsession with Billy Joel’s song “Piano Man.” He listened to it over and over again.
“I wanna be a piano man, Mommy,” he’d told his mom with utmost certainty. She helped him draw piano keys on sheets of paper so he could pretend to perform. He’d spread the papers out and tape them to the edge of the coffee table in order to play his makeshift piano for his adoring fans. Teddy Beddy, who always sat front and center on the couch, was his biggest supporter. Lucas belted out the words as best he could, despite not understanding some of the lyrics. Day after day he performed along with Billy. It was his favorite game.
His mom sometimes sat and watched, singing the “la la la diddy da” parts of the song, but his dad was much harder to convince. Lucas would pitter patter into the family room after dinner, boom box in one hand, pages of paper piano keys in the other. “Daddy, are you in the mood for a melody?” he’d ask, borrowing his favorite line from the song.
“Not now, Lucas. Maybe later” was always the response, and Lucas would retreat to his room, dejected.
The paper piano eventually fell by the wayside when Lucas decided he no longer needed actual keys. He’d pretend to play anything: the kitchen table, the edge of the bathtub, his mom’s leg. When he was in the mood for a melody, anything was fair game. Even Daddy’s toes.
His dad had fallen asleep in his recliner one evening, bare feet sticking out from under the blanket draped over his lap. He awoke to find Lucas playing his toes as if they were piano keys.
“What in God’s name are you doing, Lucas?” his father asked, looking completely baffled.
“I’m playing you a memory, Daddy, like it says in the song.”
His parents signed him up for piano lessons the very next day.
Lucas hoped Mason wouldn’t recount the story.
Zach grinned at both of the Tate boys. He seemed amused by all the razzing. “Anything else I should know?”
“One last thing,” Mason told him. “If he asks you if you’re in the mood for a melody—no matter what you’re doing—say yes.”
Lucas couldn’t control the upwelling of emotion. It brought tears to his eyes. He blinked quickly, hoping no one had noticed.
Zach clasped Lucas’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Always,” he promised, and then leaned down and gave Lucas a kiss on the cheek, in front of everyone.
AFTER dinner, Lucas followed Zach to his car. His family headed to the school to find their seats for the show, but Zach lingered. “How you feeling?”
Lucas snorted. “Like I want to kill my brother. But otherwise, I’m fine. Sorry he was being such a dick.”
“He loves you.”
“He has a funny way of showing it.”
“I thought your dad was the one I was going to have to win over. Little did I know.”
Lucas chuckled. “He needs to come with a warning: Beware of Fangs.”
“He did provide me with some very sexy hip-swaying dirt on you, though.”
“Oh God! I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life.”
“Can you come over after the show? All I can think about is getting you naked and making you dance for me.”
Lucas laughed. “No way.”
“Please? Pretty, pretty please? What if I promise to shower you with kisses?”
“I’m not dancing. I’ll look ridiculous.”
“You’ll look beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “I know, I know,” he said sarcastically. “I’m beautiful and sensitive and loving and yadda, yadda, yadda….”
Zach’s expression turned serious. He grabbed Lucas’s hand and brought it to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. “It’s true. And I love every one of those things about you.”
He wasn’t used to this kind of overt flattery. He didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you” seemed like a silly thing to say, but he was thankful.
“I was going to give you this after the show,” Zach said, pulling an envelope out of th
e glove box. “But I want you to have it now instead. For luck.”
“For me?”
“Open it.”
He slid the card out of the envelope. On the front was a watercolor of a boy seated at a baby grand piano, his fingers positioned gracefully on the keys. The heart-shaped piano lid, propped open wide, poured out undulating waves of multicolored music. It was exquisite. When he opened the card, he found a poem handwritten on the left, and a note on the right. He read the note first.
Dear Lucas,
This was the poem I originally wrote for our English assignment. I didn’t have the courage to give it to you at the time, but even then I knew you were someone special to me. Regardless of tonight’s outcome, you will always be the “most talented” in my book. Whether you play one of Beethoven’s sonatas or one of Weird Al’s polkas, I know it will come from a place of love. Thank you for sharing your music with me, but of all the gifts you have to give, I treasure your heart the most.
Love,
Zach
Then, with teary eyes, he read Zach’s poem.
L ips I ache to press to mine
U ntil the morning hour
C ome with me
A cross that line
S urrender to love’s power
“It’s so beautiful,” he managed to choke out, his eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.”
Zach reached for him, and Lucas melted into his embrace. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. I love you.” He hadn’t wanted to be the first to say it, but the words came to life on their own.
“I love you too,” Zach said, pulling him into a hug.
WHEN they arrived at the school, Lucas found his dad waiting for him near the entrance. He said he’d told the others to go inside without him. He wanted to stay behind and talk to Lucas.
Lucas didn’t like the sound of that. His dad’s expression was serious. Would he discourage Lucas from seeing Zach or reprimand him for the public displays of affection?
Zach gave his hand a squeeze and then went in to find Mason and his mom.
His dad cleared his throat. “Lucas… seeing you with Zach tonight made me think about some things—things I’m not very proud of.”
Lucas swallowed. Was he going to tell him he no longer condoned him being gay?
“I know this isn’t the best time or place for this… but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.”
Sorry? He couldn’t remember his dad ever having apologized to him before.
“I haven’t always supported your music.” His dad took a breath. “I’ve never supported your music. I’m sorry, son.”
Lucas briefly wondered if Mason’s comment had brought this on.
“When you were younger, it was clear to your mother and me that you were… different. And I guess I was afraid of encouraging you to do things that I thought would….” His dad struggled to say the words.
“Make me gay?”
He nodded. “Some of the things you did or said, they made me question whether you might be, but you were just a kid. I thought maybe you were just odd. The piano playing—you were so… excuse the word… flamboyant. Sometimes I wonder… if I hadn’t allowed you to play, would you still have turned out to be gay?”
Lucas felt the lump in his throat rise. “There’s nothing you could do to make me any more or less gay, Dad. It’s who I am.”
“It’s not who you are. It’s part of who you are, but it’s not who you are. You’re so much more than just that, and I’m proud of you. All of you.”
His dad had never uttered those words to him before. It was all he’d wanted to hear for so long. Lucas flung himself forward and into a hug. After a few moments, he pulled back. “What does this have to do with Zach?”
“Your music—it’s always been very special to you, in a way that I could never understand. When you play, it’s so obvious what a—” His dad’s voice caught in his throat. “—caring and sensitive young man you are.” He placed a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “I never should have been embarrassed to let other people see that or worried about what they would think. When Zach looks at you, it’s clear that he adores you for all of those things. It made me realize just how much I’d let you down.”
Lucas was crying openly now. His dad’s words had hurt, but they were also a comfort.
“Now you go in there,” his dad said, “and play me a memory.”
TRISH was waiting for him backstage. “Jesus, Lucas. You look like you’ve been through the wringer. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” he sniffled. “Just a little emotional right now.”
“Aww, cheer up, Boo. You’re gonna make me cry. How am I supposed to sing Massive Attack if I’m blubbering?”
“That song alone makes me cry,” he said. “It’s gonna be an exhausting night.”
Trish squeezed him into a hug. “You’re gonna be great. Have you seen the program? Seeing your name in print will cheer you up. Have a look.”
Lucas chuckled as she shoved a program into his hands. He flipped it open to find their names among the list of performers. “Trish Williams performs ‘What Your Soul Sings’ by Massive Attack. Accompanied on piano by Lucas Tate.”
“You’re a genius for adapting it to the piano. I know that wasn’t easy.”
Lucas shrugged. “You’re the one who has to sing it. Now that’s not easy.”
He scrolled down further to find his solo performance listed. “Lucas Tate performs Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique No. 8 in C minor op. 13.”
“It sounds so fancy,” she said. “How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, playfully. “And if I make a mistake, I bet no one will even know it.”
“Lucas Tate, you sound almost as conceited as I do.”
“Rubbing off on me, I guess.”
“And to think, we didn’t even know each other a couple months ago.”
It was hard to believe. She’d become such a good friend to him in such a short time, it felt like they’d known each other for years. “I’m glad we’re friends,” he told her.
“I knew from the minute I first heard you play, you were someone special. I love you, Boo.”
“I love you too.” Lucas smiled. There was a lot of love going around tonight.
They sat together and waited for their turn to perform. Trish was beautiful when she sang. She lit up the stage, and the audience loved her. Once they were done, she pulled him offstage and squeezed him into a tight hug.
Then their phones buzzed in unison.
Zach: you were great :-)
Lucas: thx
Zach: encore at my place?
Lucas: you don’t have a piano
Zach: i’ll let you play my toes
Lucas: haha
Zach: or other body parts…
Lucas: !!!
Zach: good luck with your solo
“Alex just texted me,” Trish said. “He’s so sweet.”
Lucas felt his phone buzz again.
Alex: dude, you rocked
Lucas: thx :-)
Alex: we gave you a standing O
Lucas: we?
Alex: im sitting with ur pecker partner
Lucas: zach?
Alex: and mason. he says to tell u ur a dork
Lucas: tell him i love him too
Alex: i did. u should see his face, lol
Lucas: i can imagine
Alex: good luck with ur solo
Lucas: thx
Alex: xoxo
Lucas: <3
Moments later Donovan appeared. He’d somehow snuck backstage. Lucas grabbed hold of Trish’s arm, a sudden feeling of panic setting in. “Relax, Boo. It looks like he’s come bearing gifts.”
Donovan held out a bouquet of red roses for Trish. “You were fabulous, T.”
She eyed him warily. “Thank you.”
He plucked one of the long-stemmed flowers from the bouquet and handed it to Lucas. “You were good too,
Lucas.”
It wasn’t said with a smile, but his expression appeared remorseful. And he hadn’t used any of his stupid nicknames. It was a start.
Donovan looked back to Trish. “Can we talk?”
She looked to Lucas as if asking permission.
“Go ahead,” Lucas said. “I could use some alone time to mentally prep for my solo.”
“Good luck, Boo,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
As he sat and thought about the events of the day, the past few weeks—heck, his whole life, really—he knew he didn’t want to play the Pathétique. As hauntingly beautiful as it was, as much as it enabled him to show off his technical prowess, he was in the mood for a different sort of melody. When it was time, he quietly took his place on the piano bench and waited for the crowd to still.
“I’d like to dedicate this performance to my family and friends.” His dad had asked Lucas, for the first time, to play him a memory. This was the memory he wanted to share. The memory of this day, when he had come to realize how much he was loved by the people who were close to him. He quietly thanked Cyndi too as he played the opening notes of one of her most famous and most beautiful songs, “True Colors.” It was a song that celebrated those people in his life who loved him just the way he was, the people who thought his true colors were beautiful, like a rainbow. While his fingers danced through the melody, he hoped they all knew how much he loved them too.
About the Author
MADISON PARKER grew up in Germany where she feasted on Gummibärchen, wandered through the woods on many a Volksmarch, and dreamed of one day living in a castle on a mountain with a boy who knew how to rock a pair of lederhosen. The Fates had other plans for her, but she’s not complaining. Although she aspired to be an author at an early age and often wrote for fun, she pursued a career in teaching instead. Madison has a bachelor’s degree and two master’s degrees in mathematics and education and has taught both middle and high school. She began writing LGBTQ fiction to help address issues of bullying and low self-esteem among young adults.
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