What Happens After

by Dennis Abrams

  Later, I jokingly/not jokingly texted him to ask if there was anything going on between him and Rafael that I needed to know about. Jealous? he asked. Was I? I wasn’t exactly sure.

  Not to worry, Collin, he texted back. I’m trying to be there for him, he’s going through a rough time. OK?

  OK, I texted back, followed by a flurry of emojis expressing my relief.

  What was I relieved about?

  Did I care already whether or not he liked me?

  Did I care if he liked somebody else? Maybe even more than he liked me?

  I tried to figure it out. But in the meantime, there was our first date to consider.

  As well as the prom. And our dance.

  And, and, and….

  And finally being able to get off my crutches and use just a cane.

  Things were definitely moving.

  Where they were going was another question altogether.

  But, I liked it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  NGUYEN AND I started hanging out a lot more. We’d go to the movies and then coffee after. He’d come over to my place and hang out and talk and study. More talk than study, but still. I was beginning to like him a lot. I was still gun-shy, and yes, I said that, and didn’t really move things past the friends zone. Or the really-good-friends zone. And since I got the feeling that he was going to leave it to me to make the first move, we stayed pretty much where we were.

  I did make a move of another kind, though. One afternoon I got up the nerve to ask him to come to the dance with me. But to my surprise, his face turned red, and for the time in our friendship, he seemed visibly flustered.

  “Collin,” he finally said, “I am very happy that you asked me and your invitation means the world to me, but….”

  “But?” I asked.

  “Raf asked me to go with him, and I said yes.”

  “Oh.”

  I did not know what to say. I thought we had a thing or at least a possible thing going, but now he was going to the dance with Rafael?

  “Oh” was all I could say. And keep saying.

  “Collin, I know. I’m sorry.

  “I do like you a lot, and I value our friendship more than you can ever imagine.

  “When I first got to Eisenhower, I’d see you and Nate together. I thought then that you were boyfriends, although I know that wasn’t the case; it meant the world to me. It meant my life was possible. And it gave me hope that I might, if I was lucky enough, find someone like that for myself.

  “The shooting broke my heart, for you and for Nate. I wanted to reach out to you, but we weren’t really friends yet. I couldn’t find the words to say and couldn’t get up the nerve just to come up and tell you how sorry I was. All I could do was look at you and smile and hope that maybe you would smile back.

  “You seemed so damaged and cut off from everyone, like you were lost in your own thoughts and in your own world. I wanted to help, but you seemed… cut off and unavailable.

  “But then somehow, after whatever happened with Josh, you changed. Or something in you changed. You started the alliance. You gave me the courage to come out to my parents. You were and are, at least in my eyes, no longer a victim. Instead of me helping you, you were the one who helped me.

  “When Rafael lost it at that first meeting, though… I had always found myself attracted to him, physically anyway, and when I saw him there, sad and scared and damaged, and vulnerable in a way I could never imagine him being, I felt like I could be there for him and help him as you had helped me.

  “We’ve been talking since then. And when you saw me putting the tape across his face, I could feel something beyond friendship happening. Collin, when he asked me to go with him, I couldn’t say no.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  What could I possibly say? It hurt. A lot. And it seemed deeply ironic that Josh had rejected me because I was so damaged, and now Nguyen rejected me at least in part because I was no longer, as he saw me, damaged enough. But somehow… it was okay. I knew this wasn’t about me; it was about Nguyen and Rafael.

  “It’s cool. Really. I had a sense, in fact I kind of knew there was something going on between you when I saw you taping up his mouth; there was something in the way you were touching his face…. Honestly, Nguyen, it’s cool. You guys have a great time. And I can’t wait to see you dancing.”

  We hugged, confirmed our friendship, and moved on.

  And with the success of the Day of Silence, everyone in the alliance was even more excited about our chance to celebrate with our own gay/straight/everyone else dance.

  Not that we weren’t official in our own way, but we weren’t the prom.

  We were all talking about nothing but the dance—what to wear, who to ask, what parties to have after, just like the people going to the other prom.

  We debated over what the “dress code” should be for the event. Ultimately we decided suits and tuxes and nice dresses or gowns. Who wore what, would be up to the individual.

  I knew I’d wear a tuxedo. It would be the first time I’d ever worn one, and it seemed entirely appropriate to do it for this dance and this occasion.

  I was going to go with Nguyen to pick out tuxes, but Mom let me know in no uncertain terms that Dad really wanted to come with me to help pick it out as some kind of father/son bonding ritual rite-of-passage thing, so I decided I’d be a nice guy and ask him if he’d please come with me.

  The smile on his face when I asked told me I’d made the right decision.

  For him, anyway.

  For me, it was more than slightly awkward.

  The ride over was fine. When it came to picking out the tux, we agreed on a classic super sleek black tux with a stiff-collared white shirt and bow tie. But for the shoes, I decided to go with red patent leather, with matching socks with little stripes. Dad wasn’t thrilled, but he happily paid the bill anyway.

  I have to admit, I thought I looked pretty good.

  On the way home, though, I learned that a free tux rental didn’t come without the price of some extreme personal embarrassment on my part.

  He began:

  “So… are things are getting serious with you and Nguyen? Your mom and I both like him a lot.”

  I could feel myself starting to turn red.

  “Actually, Dad, we’re just friends. He’s going to the dance with this guy Rafael….”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I don’t know… I like him and all, but we’re going to be friends. Rafael, well… Rafael is more his type I guess.”

  “I’m sorry. And here I was ready to give you the talk. But since you are going to the prom, and since I have been rehearsing it in my head for the last two days….

  “It’s time to have the talk.”

  He grinned.

  Oh shit.

  “I don’t know what you did or didn’t do when you visited Josh in Dallas….”

  I could literally feel my face turning red.

  “And honestly, it’s none of my business, and I know it, as does your mother.”

  Whew.

  “But as long as you’re under my roof… under our roof.”

  Oh shit again.

  “You’re living under our rules, and I just want to make a few things clear… okay?”

  Whatever, Dad.

  “Your mom and I have decided that we will never butt into your privacy. What you do in your room stays in your room, okay?”

  Redder… um… yes.

  “But since I’m going to assume for my own mental health that you’re still a virgin, I’m also going to assume you’re negative, so here’s the deal.

  “Safe sex only, understood? You’ll go get yourself tested every six months, understood? And I did some research, and since I want you to stay safe, along with condoms… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you want to go on PrEP, I’ll go with you to get a prescription… okay?”

  I nodded… understood.

  “This isn’t quite the conversat
ion I ever imagined having with you, Collin, but you know I love you, right? And that your mom and I both love you and are so proud of how after all you’ve gone through, you’ve used it and grown from it and become the confident young man you are now.

  “I couldn’t ask for a better son.”

  Long pause.

  “I love you, pup.”

  Even though it was such a… dad-like speech, I couldn’t help but feel what he was saying.

  “Thanks, Dad…. I love you too.”

  I knew saying that would make him feel happy, and at that moment I did feel it.

  When we got home, I saw Mom and Dad exchanging looks, trying to communicate with each other without letting me in on it:

  Did you have the talk?

  Yes, we did.

  How did it go?

  I laughed and jumped in.

  “Yes, Mom, we had the talk. Yes, Mom, it went well. Look, Mom, it’s all good. And I’m not dating Nguyen. I’m safe.

  “But… as I told Dad and I probably should have told you earlier, Nguyen and I are not a thing. He’s going to the dance with another guy from the alliance, Rafael.”

  I could see her about to explode with questions, but I cut her off.

  “Mom, it’s okay. I’m okay. We were friends and we are still friends. There are no hurt feelings, and, honestly, I’m going to be too busy making sure the dance is going well to be anyone’s date.

  “Besides… I’m not exactly the world’s greatest dancer right now….”

  She exchanged a look with Dad and nodded.

  When I told Nguyen about it all later that night, he was both shocked and amused.

  “Wait,” he said. “They asked you what? Your dad offered to get you on PrEP?”

  “I know… I know….”

  “No,” he said. “I just can’t imagine having that kind of conversation with my mother and father now, or ever. You’re lucky, in a kind of weird way.”

  And then he laughed.

  And told me that he and Rafael had already started fooling around a little bit. And had condoms ready for the night of the dance.

  “Is it okay I told you that? I know we were… but I had to tell someone.”

  I was glad he told me. And that he knew he could confide in me.

  And I was also kind of sorry he did, as I imagined what they looked like fooling around.

  Or more than fooling around.

  Mostly glad, though. At least I knew they’d be safe.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  HERE’S THE thing.

  It seemed like life was getting back to normal.

  Maybe even better than normal.

  I’d be graduating soon. I felt more comfortable and had more friends at Eisenhower than I’d ever had before. Friends like Laura and the other members of the alliance and a few others who I could imagine staying in touch with even after we went our separate ways after graduation.

  Even my friend Nguyen.

  I had a stronger sense of who I was and what I wanted to be.

  I was, it seemed, making a difference. I still volunteered at the LGBT center on the nights Mom wasn’t there. Listening to everyone’s stories. Lending a shoulder or giving a hug. Giving advice where I could. And telling them where to go for help when I couldn’t.

  Letting them know that they weren’t alone.

  The Nate Jonson Gay/Straight Alliance had become a reality and was growing slowly larger every week. I had high hopes that it would continue even after I left Eisenhower. Ms. Hernandez promised me she would help make sure it did.

  And even though things with Nguyen didn’t work out as I had hoped they would, I could now at least imagine the possibility of having a serious real boyfriend. (I had decided by then that Josh didn’t really count.)

  My body had nearly healed. The scars will always be there, lingering, like faded tattoos, I guess.

  I’ve been told I’ll always walk with a slight limp that might get worse when I get older, but I can live with that.

  Literally. I mean, it’s not like I have a choice.

  But, and it’s safe to say that is a big but, emotionally and mentally, I know I still hadn’t healed from that night.

  The wounds are there. Not as raw as before, but they still made their presence known. Far more often than I would like.

  It’s possible, I’ve come to realize, that I never will fully heal.

  That the scars will always be there.

  The pain is less. I don’t wake up screaming and sweating as often as I used to. A couple of times a month maybe.

  Okay, maybe once a week. It’s still a lot better than it was.

  I don’t find myself drifting off remembering that night. I don’t wake up thinking I’m there on the dance floor. I know I don’t get that blank look I would get as the images and sounds of that night flooded my brain. Or at least not quite as often.

  I still flinch at the sound of a car backfiring. Or at any loud sound really.

  And if there are sudden gunshots in a movie or TV show, I do start shaking.

  Or if I hear screaming.

  Or if a door to a kitchen cabinet bangs shut too loud.

  Or if I hear certain songs that were playing that night.

  Even certain smells and aromas can do it. The cologne the guy I was dancing with and making out with that night does it.

  Curve. That’s what that cologne was called. Curve.

  The one I caught a whiff of at the unveiling.

  Just a hint of it from someone walking down the street brings me back there.

  And that’s okay.

  Well, it’s not okay, not really, but it is what it is.

  I realize and even accept that it’s always going to be a part of who I am. And, I think I’m starting to understand, part of those around me as well: my parents, Nate’s parents, Ziggy, Kristen, Josh, Nguyen… and it moves on to my parents’ friends, Nate’s parents’ friends, Ziggy’s friends, Kristen’s, the creation of the gay alliance at Eisenhower… the impact of that night continues to have an effect far beyond the actual shooting itself.

  Although it is, of course, mostly about its impact on me.

  But that’s okay as well. I’ve come to realize that I can’t change what happened, and that everything that happened that night led or maybe shoved me toward where I am now.

  I have to admit I’ve never been much of a reader, but Nguyen is trying to change that, telling me I need to read the Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami. A few days ago, he sent me one of his favorite quotes, which I printed out and now display on my desk.

  It’s all about surviving. Getting through the storm, not sure how you survived it, whether it is even over. But after you come through it—and this, for me, is the key—“you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm is all about.”

  That hit me hard.

  That struck home. I did survive the storm. I don’t know how I made it through, and I don’t know whether it is really over. But I do know I’m not the same Collin that I was when it happened.

  But I also know I’m hanging on to the storm. That I don’t know how to tell what happened or even if I should tell what happened.

  Or who to tell it to.

  And while Nguyen has never asked, I have a feeling he thinks I should. And that I can tell him about it when the time is right. That I’m holding to something, an experience, that is part of me. A huge part of me.

  I want to. But I can’t.

  But I know I will.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  SENIOR YEAR was almost over.

  I’d turned eighteen.

  I’d graduated from hobbling along on crutches to hobbling along with a cane.

  And Nguyen had become an important, almost essential, part of my life. And even though we were just friends, I couldn’t imagine going a day without texting, talking, or skyping, along with all the time we spent together at school.

  The week before our dance, the regular formal official school prom was h
eld.

  Since I was hoping a lot of the people who attended that one would come to ours as well, I went to go pass out flyers.

  It was kind of what I expected. It had been built up in everyone’s minds, for some since freshman year it seemed, that it would be the highlight of their time in high school. But given that, I figured it could only disappoint.

  Ours, I was absolutely sure, would be a lot more fun.

  A celebration rather than an occasion for formals and stiffly posed photos.

  Still, I’m glad I went. Or made an appearance at any rate.

  And hopefully I convinced a few of them to come to ours as well.

  We had, in fact, sold more tickets than I had originally thought we would. Not by a lot, but even so, enough to guarantee a good crowd. And enough money to cover our costs, with a little help from Ms. Hernandez, who somehow came up with enough to push us over the edge.

  At our last meeting of the alliance before the dance, we made sure everything had been taken care of. Decorations and refreshments were on us. Principal Hernandez provided a security guard. Just in case.

  And most importantly there would be music. We’d hired the best DJ we could afford—which wasn’t much, but fortunately she gave us a discount because of who we were—because if you don’t have the music, what’s the point of having a dance, know what I’m saying?

  That was Thursday. Friday after school we’d start with the decorations. The dance was Saturday night.

  I’d spent the day getting everything set up. Making sure everything was done. Nguyen was there to help, of course, as was Rafael. And Laura, of course. And a few others from the alliance. When we were close to getting done, Laura told me, “Collin, you’ve done enough. Go home. Get some rest. Come back tonight and take a good look at all you’ve done.” She gave me a hug and said, “Go.”

  So I went home to an empty house, sat down at the dining room table, and thought about stuff.

  It wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped the night of the dance would be like. I had, even long after we broke up, imagined that Josh would be taking me to the dance. I’d even imagined him coming down to Houston the night before and spending the night with me in my bed in my own room, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen.