by A. M. Arthur
Adam too. He sampled some of the food, while we chatted with well-wishers and potential donors. Now that the singing was done, Adam fell right into the part his daddy had molded him for—the businessman’s son, comfortable talking to anyone.
A familiar face a dozen feet away startled me, and I gave Adam a nudge. “Your Daddy’s still here,” I said.
“Of course he is,” Adam said. “He bought this thing. As long as he’s getting attention and free martinis, he’ll hang around.” I didn’t like seeing all that bitter hanging off Adam, but I couldn’t do much for it in public. I’d kiss it out of him later.
Tommy bounced over for a hug before he left. His uncle hung back, and Bobby didn’t get anywhere close, and I appreciated that. Telling all that to Adam before we performed hadn’t been the plan, but we were both figuring out that plans changed—a lotta times for the best. What you planned to do mattered a hell of a lot less than what you actually did. The actions you owned.
At some point, we drifted closer to Langley and Joe Quartermaine, who were chatting with Ellie and a guy whose back was to us. I was a fool and let Ellie catch my eye, and she waved us over.
“Ryan, Adam, come here for a sec,” she all but screamed across the lobby.
I winced, nervous for good reason. Adam got all stiff again and kinda robot-walked over to his old man. I got a good look at her companion, and recognition slammed into my chest.
“You guys remember Scott Bakerfield, don’t you?” Ellie said.
“Sure,” I said, accepting a handshake. Scott had graduated with us—well, with Ellie and Adam, but we were all in the same grade—and he’d been in the drama club, doing lights for all of the theater productions. Including Rent. Guy looked exactly the same, except he’d traded band T-shirts for a suit.
Adam shook his hand too, a little more relaxed than when we walked over.
“Scott writes in both the Arts and Community sections for the Post,” Ellie said, and I saw the ambush hiding in the canyon. “He was just speaking to Mr. Langley and Mr. Quartermaine about their participation in the fundraiser, and I knew he had to get your input too.”
“You’re a reporter?” Adam asked.
“Almost officially,” Scott replied. “I finish my degree in journalism next year, and I’ve been working at the Post for over a year now. Most of my articles end up on our online paper, since the print version got streamlined, but we have a good readership overall. I think this fundraiser is important news, considering the angle.”
“What angle?”
“You.”
“Me?” Adam’s shoulders went tight, and I saw the panic in his body language. I touched him real softly with my elbow. He looked like he expected to be publicly outed, but Ellie wouldn’t do that to him.
“Well, you and Ryan and Ellie,” Scott said, smiling. “Three old classmates coming together to revive a high school production as part of a community center fundraiser. Adam finally getting a chance to perform as Mark. It’s a good angle.”
Langley made a noise that he turned into a cough, but I knew better. He hated this particular angle.
“So Ellie tells me you had no idea Adam was an intern at LQF until you guys met face-to-face, right?” Scott said to me, holding up his cell phone. Probably in audio record mode.
“Right.” I gave him a condensed version of that first day, including Adam coming back that night with an offer.
“That’s an impressive turnaround time. Adam, what made you jump on this fundraiser so quickly?”
Adam cleared his throat. “Ryan and Ellie convinced me. I know it sounds simplistic, but they were both very passionate about the center and about how it had affected their lives. I saw it as an opportunity to dip my toes into charity work, as well as get some hands-on experience toward my own degree in business and finance.”
“So you took their proposal to your father?”
“No. My internship is in Mr. Quartermaine’s office, so I took the proposal to him. He told me to draft something to show him and my father later in the day, so I did. They agreed with my ideas, and that this was a good way for LQF to give back to our community. I took the proposal back to Lou Paige, and we went from there.”
“And tonight was your first time publicly performing?”
“Correct.”
“Because you dropped out of our high school production of Rent for personal reasons?”
“Correct.”
“How did it feel getting back on the horse, so to speak?”
Adam let out a breath, probably expecting a more personal question about those personal reasons, and he smiled. “It felt great. I was terrified at the start, but I do really love to sing. My mother instilled that love in me, and getting up onstage tonight felt like coming full circle with a lot of things.”
“Any chance you’ll do it again? Get involved in local productions?”
“I haven’t ruled anything out.”
“Good. You all three sounded spectacular up there, just like you did in school. I felt a little nostalgic watching.”
“It was a real treat to sing opposite Ryan like that,” Ellie said. “We never got the chance when I played Maureen.”
“That’s right.” Scott grinned wickedly and put down his phone. “Your character was a lesbian. So I have to ask, Ellie, what’s it like to kiss a girl?”
I tried to not roll my eyes. Langley shifted, looking mighty uncomfortable. Probably planning a polite way to excuse himself from the whole conversation.
Ellie laughed. “Just like kissing a boy, only with softer lips and less facial hair.”
“Facial hair has its perks,” I said without thinking. Hell. In for a penny… and Scott didn’t look like he was on the record anymore. He did look kinda surprised, which was irritating. “What? I came out in high school. Getting bashed didn’t put me back in the closet.”
Scott’s eyes widened, and then he looked like he got caught with his fingers in the icing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
Weird as it was, I didn’t mind. Not anymore. “It’s fine. Everybody always tiptoes around subjects like bullying and gay bashing. Maybe if we talked about it more it wouldn’t happen so much.”
“Mind if I quote you on that?” He lifted his phone again. Guess he hadn’t stopped recording after all.
“Be my guest.”
“Drawing attention to yourself can also make the opposite true,” Langley said. So damned cold, that man.
Adam’s face darkened, and his shoulders went rigid. I put my hand on his back to keep him calm, and I didn’t care who saw. “How did I draw attention to myself in high school exactly?” I asked Langley, stupidly calm while Adam looked like he wanted to blow a gasket. “By going to a private party and kissing a guy? Because some kid from school saw me and told everyone about it? I wasn’t going to lie and deny it. It wasn’t how I wanted to come out. I didn’t want the bullying or the harassment or the attention. All I wanted was to get through my senior year and graduate.”
And to love your son hung off the tip of my tongue. I hoped Adam knew the words were there, even if I couldn’t say them.
“Bullying in school is a very topical issue,” Scott said, all careful like he was afraid of startling a stampeding bull. “Are your own experiences one of the reasons you volunteer here?”
“Absolutely. Kids and especially teens need a place they can go to and be themselves. We don’t judge anyone here on gender, race, wealth, or sexuality. That’s not what we’re about, and we’re zero tolerance when it comes to bullying. Every kid who walks through those doors knows it from day one.”
“If you’re all pretty tolerant here, then how was it working with Adam again?”
“Huh?” My brain stuttered. The question didn’t make sense. My hand fell off his back on its own.
Scott looked from Adam to me, uncertain. “Well, back in high school you two were really tight, until you came out. Then he dropped you like a stone.”
“Uh….” The inte
rview was going in directions I didn’t want to visit, and I fumbled for something less stupid to say.
Nothing.
Adam
Ryan was drowning in that inappropriate question about the status of our friendship, and I couldn’t stand to see it. I couldn’t keep doing this. I’d come out in front of twenty-odd people last night. There was no reason to keep up the charade.
“The way I treated Ryan after he came out was wrong,” I said, forcing iron into my voice and choosing my words carefully to avoid outright lies. “I knew he was gay before other people found out, but peer pressure is a powerful thing when you’re seventeen. I let other people influence my reaction, and I always regretted losing Ryan’s friendship.”
“You knew?” Dad asked.
I looked him square in the eyes, struggling hard to ignore the betrayal in them. “He told me about a year earlier. Ryan was my best friend. I didn’t care.” Dad was getting apoplectic, so I turned back to Scott, who seemed riveted. “I did the exact wrong thing when Ryan was outed at school. I turned my back on him. I was too much of a coward to stand up for him. I’m grateful that he eventually forgave me for betraying him like that.”
“So you and Ryan are friends again, because of this fundraiser?” Scott asked.
“Yes, we are.” Something in my chest warmed, settled, and I clasped Ryan’s hand tight in mine. “We’re a lot of things now.” Ryan squeezed back, hard enough that I feared for my fingers.
Scott’s eyebrows furrowed. Then he saw our hands. Understanding sent those eyebrows into his hairline. He shoved his phone into his pocket, blinking at us both. “I, uh, okay. Well, I think I have enough for a couple of different articles. Congratulations?”
I laughed, a little overwhelmed at having just outed myself—to a reporter I went to high school with, of all people. And in front of my father, who I couldn’t make myself look at yet. “Yes, definitely congratulations. And thank you so much for coming tonight.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.”
Ellie winked at us, then wandered off with Scott. A lot of the crowd had thinned out. Maybe a dozen people, mostly volunteers, still lingered. Ryan tried to pull his hand away, but I held tight. If he tried again, I’d let go. Instead, he smiled so broadly I almost lost my head and kissed him.
“You certainly made your point,” Dad said. He practically snarled the words, his face nearly purple with rage. My insides shook because it was all directed at us, but Ryan was next to me, and I knew he wouldn’t abandon me.
“What point was I making exactly?” I asked. “All I did was not lie. I’m exhausted of lying, Dad. I want to be me.”
“Being with that boy nearly got you killed.”
“No, a couple of assholes who’d had too much to drink nearly got me killed.” Ryan’s face when he told me the rest of his ugly truth filled my mind—so embarrassed, so hurt. My heart ached for him, and a protective rage surged through me, aimed right at the man who made sure our attackers never faced real justice.
I got right in my father’s personal space, which he didn’t expect. He sputtered a bit, but let me crowd him out of the lobby and into the empty auditorium. I pitched my voice lower, not wanting my words to echo. “Those same assholes you got off on community service, instead of charging them with attempted murder and sexual assault.”
Dad’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared. He didn’t lose that indignant glare, or the air that he’d been somehow affronted by all of this.
“Yeah, Ryan told me about that,” I snapped. “How could you?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what? The worst had already happened.”
“From that happening to you again.” Dad looked genuinely upset now, and it made something deep inside me ache. “From it being worse the next time. I told you that I lost your mother, Adam. I couldn’t save her from herself. I didn’t want to lose you, not to violence like that. Not when I could do something to stop it.”
He didn’t get to use Mom’s death as an excuse for imploding my life and nearly destroying Ryan’s. “You think I like knowing I’ll spend the rest of my life being different from most people? That I’m wondering if the guy on the street who looks at me funny will try to hurt me? That I’ll be called names and denied basic rights and judged based on who I love? I know all that. But you know the one single person who I never wanted to fear hatred and rejection from? You, Dad.”
“Adam, you don’t have to—”
“I’m gay. I love Ryan. Nothing you say is going to change that.”
Dad did something then that shocked the hell out of me—he wilted. All of the fight went out of him, and he seemed to age a few years. He stared at me for a while, long enough to feel like he was memorizing me right before he said good-bye. My heart twisted sharply, and I wanted Ryan there to keep the rest of me from shattering into pieces.
“I took a lot of my stuff already,” I said in a thin, shaky voice. “I can come for the rest next week.”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t nod or indicate that he agreed or disagreed with my decision. He turned on his heel and walked out.
He left me behind.
The far wall blurred. Arms wrapped around me and pulled me close, against a warm, familiar chest. “I’ve got you, babe,” Ryan whispered. “I’ve got you.”
He did. I knew he always would.
And I’d have him for as long as he let me.
Epilogue
The football field is a mad scramble of students, family members, and friends, all trying to find each other in a mass of at least six hundred. I let the crush carry me along toward the ten-yard line where I asked my crowd to meet me after the graduation ceremony ended. My cap and tassel got lost at some point, but I have my diploma case firmly in hand as I seek familiar faces.
There.
Ryan grins like a fool. He’s flanked by his parents, Ellie, and Joe, and they’re all beaming at me. My hug almost knocks Ryan over backward. He uses his superior height and size to lift me up a little, feet right off the turf, and I laugh out loud.
“Congratulations, graduate,” he says.
I wrestle away from my captor and hug everyone else who’s come today to support me. Ellie glommed onto me as fiercely as she did Ryan, which is good because the pair are kind of a matched set. She didn’t mind that I left campus to spend every single weekend and holiday at her and Ryan’s place. I’m moving in permanently tonight, until Ryan and I figure out what our next step is.
Darren and Tracey Sanders seem as proud of me as if they’d birthed me themselves, and I’m proud to have them stand up for me—especially since Tracey sent me back to school with food almost every time I stopped by to visit. And Joe. He kept me on as his intern the rest of last summer, and he made sure I wasn’t in financial trouble until I did turn twenty-one and gained access to my trust. I’ll never be able to properly thank him for looking out for me.
“Scott couldn’t make it?” I ask Ellie once hugs have been dispensed.
“No, something came up, but he sent a card,” Ellie replies. According to Ryan, her healthy decision to start dating Scott Bakerfield last summer and dump her bouncer boyfriend was nothing short of a miracle. I didn’t know much about her history with guys, so I took Ryan’s word for it and encouraged the pair. Seems ten months is a record for Ellie.
“So where do you want to have dinner?” Joe asks. “Any place in town to celebrate. It’s on me.”
“There’s a new Italian bistro over on Tenth that I hear is amazing,” I say. “Everyone okay with Italian?”
Enthusiastic nods make the decision on dinner. I scan the faces around us, hopeful that one in particular did show up. I sent him the invitation on a wing and a prayer, because sometimes people surprise you. My father and I haven’t spoken since August. He sent a birthday card through the mail. The distance hurts a little less each day, but I doubt the hole in my heart will ever really fill in. All I can do is build around it.
With our plans settl
ed, we head toward the parking lot. Halfway there, Ryan tugs on my hand. We stop walking. I follow his gaze to the chain-link fence surrounding the west side of the football field.
Dad stands by the fence, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, expression neutral. He’s about fifty feet away, close enough to know when our gazes lock. He nods his head slowly, and I nod back. It isn’t a lot. He came, though, and that’s enough. Maybe in time we can rebuild what we’ve lost.
I hope we can.
He turns and walks away first. I watch him go. Ryan’s arm slides around my waist, and I lean sideways into him. “You okay, hoss?” Ryan asks.
“Yeah, I am.” I twist my neck so I can smile at him. “I really am.”
“Good. Then let’s go get some pasta.”
“I was thinking brick oven pizza.”
“I don’t care what we eat, as long as it’s soon.”
“Hungry?”
Ryan’s smile goes wolfish. “Not for food. Your graduation present’s the kind not fit for company.”
My blood hums with the promise in those words. “Then let’s get going, slow poke.” I grab his hand and tug him toward the cars and our waiting family.
If you enjoyed this story, check out Melting For You, the first book in my Neighborhood Shindig series, which also features young men making their way in the world. Please consider leaving a review, and don’t forget to sign up for my free newsletter: https://vr2.verticalresponse.com/s/signupformynewsletter16492674416904
Author’s Note
I’m thrilled to bring this story back out into the wild and put it into the hands of new readers. Musical theater is something that shaped a lot of my experiences in high school, and I’ve carried a love for it ever since. This story wouldn’t have come together without the beauty of Jonathan Larsen’s incomparable Rent, and the hundreds of other shows that are performed and enjoyed every year across the country. Theater is something that should be shared and experienced by children and adults alike. Arts programs are an important part of every child’s education and development, and we need to keep those programs alive in our cities, towns, and schools.