Don't Let Me Go

by J. H. Trumble

  “No show today?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “How’d you spend your day?”

  “Just hanging out.” I waited, but he didn’t elaborate.

  “How was school?” he asked.

  “It was okay.” I didn’t elaborate.

  We talked the talk of strangers for a few minutes longer. I don’t even know who hung up first. It had been four days since the incident in the parking garage, and I hadn’t even told him about it. It didn’t seem important anymore.

  There wasn’t much about those earlier two conversations—the last five months, even, if I was being honest—that I didn’t regret by Saturday morning. As someone had so ineloquently phrased it in English class earlier in the semester, I had buttered my bread, and now I had to lie in it. I felt like I was being punished. I felt like I was doing the punishing.

  I called; he was in the shower.

  When he called back a few hours later, I was in a piano lesson. I wondered if he’d waited, saying to himself all those things he didn’t want to later regret, saying them to himself so he didn’t have to say them to me.

  When I was free, I called back; his phone was off.

  He called again later in the afternoon; I was in the shower. He left a voice mail. His voice was quiet and, I wanted to believe, sad: “I’ve got a show tonight. The last one for this run. I’ll try you again later.” He paused, then, “I’m glad you’re going to the dance tonight. I hope you have a good time. I do mean that.”

  A thin coat of dust had left the piano keys gritty. I brushed my fingers across them, thinking it had been too long since I’d played just for myself. I pressed a random key to test the tuning, then another. Not bad. Using a piece of sheet music, I fanned the dust off the bench and sat down, careful to let the hem of my suit jacket hang loose so I didn’t wrinkle it because looking gay and good seemed like an important part of the evening. My hands, seemingly of their own accord, played “Heart and Soul.”

  Chapter 32

  Last September 17

  Falling in love

  “Juliet told me you play.” Adam laid his fingers on the keys and started a basic chord progression for “Heart and Soul.” “Come on, let’s see what you got.”

  Oh, I definitely wanted to show him what I got. But he was Juliet’s best friend, just here to pick up some clothes he’d loaned me after that spontaneous swim in his pool.

  I picked up the melody, basic at first, but then with a little more sass.

  “Heart and soul, I fell in love with you.”

  He was singing? I looked at him, amazed. “There’re lyrics to this thing?”

  He laughed. “Didn’t you see Stuart Little?” I’d made him miss a couple of lines, but he picked up on the next one. And then without warning, he switched from F to G. I followed easily. He sang the next verse, singing, “Na-na, na-na, na-na,” when he forgot the lyrics, then switched keys again. The key of A this time. I ad-libbed a little more with the melody. And for the first time, he stumbled over the chords.

  “Oh crap! Too many black keys.”

  I laughed. “Come on, you can do it.”

  I finished with a big flourish, playing both the bass and the melody.

  When it was over, we both sat staring at the keys, stupid grins on our faces. “You play,” I said.

  “ ‘Heart and Soul’ in three keys and a mean ‘Chopsticks’ in one.” Then he shoved me playfully. “You’re pretty good.”

  I blushed. “I still can’t believe you knew the lyrics.”

  “If you had any idea how many karaoke parties I’ve been to, that wouldn’t surprise you.”

  “You sing ‘Heart and Soul’ karaoke?”

  “Busted.” He laughed. “No, not really, but if there’s a piano around, someone’s going to play it. So we learned the lyrics. It’s a geeky drama thing.”

  Applause erupted behind us. “Very nice, boys,” Grandma said.

  I watched as Grandma fawned all over Adam for a while, asking him a million questions about school, his family, his interests, and whether or not he’d had voice lessons. Somewhere in between stuffing peanut butter cookies in his mouth and casting confusing sideways glances at me, he told Grandma all about the fall musical and made her promise we’d be there opening night.

  When he was done charming the pants off her, I walked him out to his car. After three straight days of rain, the air was steamy and the toads were carrying on in the small drainage ditches that ran along the streets in our neighborhood.

  “You’ve got a real fan in there,” I told him.

  “I kinda hoped I had more than one.”

  My heart thumped. I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t say anything.

  He tossed his things in the front seat but didn’t get in right away. He leaned against the side of the car and folded his arms, his face serious. Then he glanced over his shoulder at the ditch. “Are those frogs always this loud?”

  I laughed. “They’re toads. And yeah, sometimes, when it rains a lot. They like burrowing down in the mud. I think that croaking is some kind of mating call. When they’re this loud, they’re pretty easy to spot. You wanna go look?”

  “Watch frogs have sex?”

  “Toads. And yeah, it’s kind of interesting.”

  He screwed up his face. “Pass.”

  I laughed again.

  “You know Juliet’s crazy about you, don’t you?” he asked out of the blue.

  “I know.”

  “You’re all she talks about now.” He scrubbed his face with his hands.

  The sun was losing its battle with the horizon and dusk was setting in. Adam looked toward the fading light and then back toward the croaking toads. “I really need to get going.”

  He didn’t look like he wanted to leave, though.

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, looking down at my feet.

  “Oh, here.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a folded piece of notebook paper and handed it to me. “I forgot to give this to you earlier.”

  I unfolded it. “My Thomas Paine response.” The essay had been our first assignment in government, and Adam had asked to read it on our way out of class one day. Even then it had been hard to deny him anything.

  “If the whole music thing doesn’t work out for you, you might consider becoming a writer.”

  I folded the paper and moved to put it in my pocket.

  “Uh, I know this will sound kind of stupid, but ... can I keep that?” he said, nodding toward my hand.

  “This?” I held up the paper.

  He grinned sheepishly. “You might be a famous writer slash pianist some day. I could sell it on eBay for a gazillion dollars and buy an island in the Caribbean or something.”

  “Right.” I handed it to him and he closed his fist around not just the paper, but my fingers holding the paper. It was as if someone had slammed on the brakes and time had entered a long screeching skid. My eyes dropped to my hand in his, his hand on mine, our hands together. Skin on skin, touching. And when I slid my eyes back up to his, I knew, and I knew he knew.

  In that moment Adam and I had become a plural—a we, an us. What were we now?

  Mom came in and draped her arms over my shoulders and watched me play.

  “You’re on your way to a dance,” she said after a while. “You should be playing a happier tune.” I didn’t even realize I had changed songs. When I didn’t respond, she tried again. “You look very handsome.” She brushed a piece of imaginary lint from my shoulder, then licked her thumb and rubbed a spot of dried blood off my cheek. I leaned away a little until she stopped fussing over me.

  “Nathan, is everything okay between you and Adam?” Okay? That word again. It had been more than two months since I’d seen Adam, since I’d been able to hold him, to touch him, to talk to him while looking in his eyes and not through the creepy webcam at the top of my computer screen. And now here I was, all dressed up, about to go out on a date with another guy. There was nothing okay about this.


  “Why would you ask that?” I said.

  “Because,” she said, “the only time you play that Shrek song is when you’re upset.”

  So I stopped right after It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah, and just to be pissy, I launched into “I Kissed a Girl.”

  She slammed the keyboard cover down. I yanked my fingers out just in time to save them and said, “You don’t like ‘Hallelujah.’ You don’t like ‘I Kissed a Girl.’ Why don’t you just request something, then?” I was taking out my funk on her, and it wasn’t fair. But then, there wasn’t much that was fair in my life right then.

  “Is there something going on between you and Danial?”

  I laughed. “Mom, Danial’s straight as an arrow.”

  She sat down next to me and chewed on the inside of her mouth. “You know, I get why you’re doing this. I do. But it scares me. I’ll be honest with you about that, Nathan. But I get it. What I don’t get, though, is why Danial’s doing this?”

  I’d wondered the same thing. Danial had to know that hanging out with me marked him as gay too. He didn’t seem to care. At all. In fact, it was like a game for him. A dare. He got away with it because he was big and good-looking and confident. He was like Adam in that way, except Adam’s force shield was his charm and cool factor. It was average guys like me who seemed to draw all the fire. I shrugged.

  “Is Adam upset that you’re going to a dance with Danial?”

  I wished. No, Adam wasn’t upset, at least not about that. Maybe if he were, we wouldn’t be in this horrible limbo right now. Adam had been great, happy—happy that I was getting out, happy that I’d found a great friend in Danial, happy that I was doing so great without him. There’d been so much fucking happiness I wanted to scream.

  A knock on the door saved me from answering Mom’s question. “Showtime,” I said, getting up.

  Danial looked good. His dark skin glowed against his crisp white shirt. His jacket was slung over one shoulder and held by a single finger hooked under the collar.

  “Wow,” I said.

  He rolled his eyes.

  Mom grinned and gave Danial a hug. “You boys both look exceedingly handsome. The girls are going to love you.”

  I shifted around uncomfortably until she realized what she’d said. She squinched her eyes shut. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”

  Danial laughed. “Here. I brought you something,” he said to me.

  With an amused clearing of his throat, he brandished a triple homecoming mum the size of a hubcap under my nose. From the cardboard backing hung enough blue and silver ribbons, bells, and other junk to strike envy in the heart of any homecoming queen. And from the center of the gaudy flower blob, a mocha-furred teddy bear reached out its stubby arms and legs to me.

  “Oh, hell no,” I said.

  “Oh, come on. It’s a tradition. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.” The blue and silver monstrosity had a rope strong enough to tether a small yacht stapled to the back so it could be worn around the neck. It was far too big and heavy to pin on. He snickered as he slipped it over my head. “Juliet made it.”

  “Oh, please remind me to thank her,” I said sarcastically. “Maybe I should go slip into a dress.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said with a wicked grin. “You might want to shave your legs while you’re at it. I’ll wait.”

  “Danial! My, don’t you look handsome,” Grandma said, coming into the room. “I made something for you b—Oh. Oh,” she said again as she took in the thing hanging around my neck. “That’s ... that’s ... that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Sorry, Danial.”

  Danial laughed and gave my grandmother a hug that completely engulfed her. For a few seconds, she practically disappeared before our eyes.

  “Here. I made these for you boys.” Grandma handed us each a garter with a single, small chrysanthemum. There were still streamers attached, but they were fewer and, thank God, much shorter. In the middle of each flower, secured with hot glue, was a plastic, glittery rainbow.

  “Grandma, these are awesome,” I said, taking one. “Stick your arm out, Danial.”

  “Does this mean you’re not wearing the mum I brought you?”

  “I’ll wear it for you later if that turns you on.”

  Mom blushed, but Grandma didn’t flinch. Instead, she produced a camera.

  It was dark outside. The protestors—a larger group by at least another three or four now—huddled under a street light, spitting their poison as cars filed into the school parking lot.

  “I believe your fan base is growing,” Danial said. He slowed the car to a stop behind a line of cars waiting to turn in. Then he rolled his window down and stuck out his arm, giving the group the finger. One of the men made a very un-Christian-like comment and approached the car.

  “Roll up the window,” I told Danial sternly.

  He ignored me.

  The man was middle-aged and balding, his enormous gut hanging over his relaxed-fit jeans. And I use fit loosely because if it weren’t for that stomach clamping them on, those pants would’ve been bunched around his ankles. That wasn’t a sight I wanted to see. He stooped to peer in the car at us, gripping the top edge of the window with his Pillsbury hands. He looked at me in the passenger seat, then back at Danial. “Are you boys the homos?” He spat the last word out as if the word itself tasted bad in his mouth.

  Danial smiled broadly. “This boy’s mine, asshole. Get your own.” He rolled up the window, forcing the man to move his fingers or lose them, but not before the self-appointed guardian of the pearly gates informed us of our fiery destination following our departure from planet Earth, a departure I think he would have liked to hasten.

  “God, people can be so ignorant.” Danial shook his head, then slammed the heel of his hand into the steering wheel. I looked at him, puzzled. When it came to narrow-minded, sanctimonious assholes like this guy and the lady at the music store, Danial usually dealt with them with sarcasm and humor. But there was this edge, this anger just below the surface that rose up every now and then.

  The commons was already buzzing when we got there. The music was loud, the kind that made you want to dance, the kind you could feel in your bone marrow. We’d planned to arrive fashionably late, dance half a dozen dances or so to make our point, and leave. I saw a group of drama kids standing at the edge of the dance floor. I caught Juliet’s eye just as a slow song started up. She grinned and grabbed Gaby by the elbow. Gaby looked and waved. The two of them moved onto the dance floor. I hoped some of the guys would follow, but whether they did or not, this was going to happen.

  Danial looked over at me. “Well, cupcake, I believe they’re playing our song.” He winked.

  I took a deep breath and hoped this evening wouldn’t end in another visit to the ER. I’d seen all I wanted to of the inside of a hospital my junior year.

  Danial surprised me by grabbing my hand and pulling me onto the dance floor. I saw a few surprised looks, but I was determined to not act like the star of some homo freak show.

  Danial cleared his throat and palmed the back of his neck and looked like he hadn’t a clue what to do now that he had me on the floor. I rolled my eyes and put my arms around his neck. He hesitated a moment before putting his arms awkwardly around my waist. “Good grief,” I said. “Loosen up.”

  “Hey, give me a minute to warm up here. I’ve never danced with a guy before.”

  “Just pretend like I’m a girl.” I wrapped my arms more tightly around his neck and pressed into him. Then I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. “You smell good,” I said.

  “Quit smelling me.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  He laughed in my ear. “You pop a boner, and this dance is over.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “You want me. Admit it.”

  My face flushed. Holding him was nothing like holding Adam. Adam was tall and lithe, and when he held me, it was like he never wanted to
let me go. Danial was more solid, more like a linebacker to Adam’s quarterback. It was different, but it wasn’t bad. In fact, it was nice.

  Danial cleared his throat. “I was kidding.”

  I decided to ignore the comment. Dancing with Danial was freaking me out in a way I hadn’t expected. I needed to focus or this statement we were making was going to be over before it got started. “Are we being watched?” I asked, refusing to open my eyes.

  Danial chuckled. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Thornton?”

  “Looks jealous.”

  “Right. Wolf?”

  “Working the crowd, sniffing out potential trouble. You want me to squeeze your ass and give them something to talk about.”

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  “Nah. That might send you over the edge, and we’ve got a few dances to go yet.”

  I was disappointed, and then I was ashamed. Some boyfriend I was. Then again, all Adam had had to say was no and I’d have happily stayed home and spent my evening texting sexy messages to him. Would it have killed him to be a little jealous? Would it have killed me to be a little not?

  I asked Danial if the others were dancing, and he said, “I guess you could call it that. Warren and Mike look like they’re terrified of letting their man parts get too close. It’s pathetic really. They look like a couple from Night of the Living Dead dancing together. They’re not doing your kind any favors, trust me on this.”

  “At least they’re trying.”

  “That’s being generous.” He cleared his throat again. “Quit doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Breathing on my neck. You are enjoying this way too much.”

  The song ended and I stepped back and rolled my eyes.

  “Okay, that wasn’t half bad,” Danial said. “No awkward sword fighting, no one was struck by lightning.”