That Secret You Keep

by Brenda Benny

  I’m still trying to explain, regardless. “You, of all people, should know that I didn’t choose not to be with you. I didn’t do it to you on purpose.”

  “Max! I get it.” He nods, and then shrugs slightly. “It still hurt, though.”

  I sink back onto the couch with the burden of this.

  Maybe, all these years in high school, it wasn’t my imagination that people thought we were together. Is it possible that others sense that sort of thing, even if it’s only one-sided? And, if Hayden thought I could be gay – he is my best friend, after all – maybe Serena really believes we were together – and that I was cheating on her. I can almost hear our churning thoughts inside each other’s heads, and it’s more than a minute before I speak up again.

  “Do you think your mom knew about your dad?”

  Hayden and I did not have the same experience growing up. He grew up with a dad who came out later. He grew up with a mom and a dad. He also grew up with two parents who maybe didn’t truly love each other the way my dads love one another.

  He lets out a harsh laugh that sounds more like a cough. “Yeah, I’ve thought about that,” he replies. “I always wondered how she could have been so blind all those years. I guess she was just holding onto her belief all that time because she couldn’t bear to tell herself otherwise.” He smiles reluctantly. “I think I might get that now.”

  There’s another long pause. I know that I have to say it, no matter how late, or insignificant it may sound. “Listen, man – I’m sorry.”

  He just nods. And then, it feels like it’s done. We sit there on either side of the couch, staring in different directions until there’s enough of a break that it’s okay to change the subject.

  “So, I finally watched some YouTube videos of Festival Disney.”

  Hayden looks over to me, his demeanour changing to intrigue. Ever since we found out we were going to Orlando instead of somewhere like Chicago or New York City, I’ve been a little critical of the whole thing. Hayden tried to tell me otherwise, but I wasn’t very receptive.

  “And?”

  “It’s impressive, some of the performances that go on there.”

  He smirks. “You realize, I told you this.”

  I give a reluctant shrug. “Not exactly what I was expecting, that’s for sure. Some of those American schools have some utterly serious stage shows. A little intimidating, even.”

  He waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, we’ll be fine, though. We have two extremely strong leads with a lot of theatre experience.” He grins.

  I realize that I haven’t spoken with Hayden about how things were going for him at the Island theatre. After all these weeks, I have to finally ask this question. “So, tell me. What happened with Bryan, anyway?”

  Hayden rolls his eyes, and then blows out a long stream of air. “Turns out he’s a little more ‘open-minded’ than me in our definition of boyfriend.”

  “You’re not together, then?”

  “Not exactly.” He raises his chin to me. “What’s your plan, then?”

  My mind moves between Florida and the theatre group. “What plan?”

  His hand meets his forehead, clearly exasperated with me. “With Serena,” he says with exaggerated articulation.

  I smirk in response. “Should I write her a song?”

  He starts laughing, caught off guard by my retort. “That depends. Are you going to sing it, too? Stand under her window and serenade her?”

  My unpolished vocal talents have always amused Hayden. A Broadway star: I will never be. He stops laughing abruptly, and stares me down with a meaningful glare.

  “You need to talk to her.”

  I narrow my eyes in reply. “That would require her to listen.”

  He relaxes back into the couch, stretching both arms along the tops of the cushions. “Well, there aren’t too many places she can go on the plane. You could confine her to her seat.”

  I snort. “Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.”

  He gives a little shrug. “All I’m saying is – if this is as real as you say it is – then you haven’t tried hard enough with her.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

  “You know, Max, maybe you just need to try some humour on her. One of your brilliant metaphors might work.” He grins, and then waggles his eyebrows at me. “After all, we’re going to Disney. It’s the place for Prince Charming and Happy Endings.”

  “Right,” I reply, clearly unconvinced.

  Chapter 16

  Serena

  I wake up with a jolt when my alarm clock radio bursts into song like a Pavarotti solo at my bedside. I’m confused for a few moments, wondering why it’s still dark outside, and why my alarm went off in the first place. Then, I remember. Staring up at the ceiling, a pulsating mix of excitement and anxiety courses into my chest, as my mind begins to host a debate over getting up. One part of me jumps for joy at the idea of flying to a warm place where I’ll be performing onstage at a giant theme park with friends I’ve known throughout high school; the other part of me curls up in terror for exactly the same reason. Somehow, anticipation finally triumphs over the trepidation, and my feet find the floor.

  After a quick shower and a piece of toast, I discover my dad already waiting with my packed luggage by the door.

  “You are ready to go?” he asks.

  I press my lips tightly together, unsure if I’m going to let out an excited squeal or throw up. “I guess so,” I manage.

  We drive the strangely unpopulated early morning streets to the airport, and he parks in the farthest corner of the short-term lot where I can scan the area to make sure I don’t see anyone I know before climbing out of the backseat.

  We quickly make our way to the terminal to begin check-in. Soon, the line-up grows long with anxious parents confirming tickets and special transport instructions for expensive instruments. Vanessa and Emily are about halfway back. I catch a glance of Vanessa’s dad and wonder if he told her about seeing me yesterday. She gives me a perfunctory wave, but instantly turns back to Emily and begins to gesture animatedly about something.

  “Have a wonderful trip, Chispa!” My dad pulls me into a hug and says softly into my ear, “We will be thinking of you.”

  He’s doing it again: speaking for my mom, saying the things he knows she would want me to hear. I suppress a flash of irritation – but wonder if my heart can possibly break into smaller pieces.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  When he finally releases me, he squeezes my shoulders one final time before turning to go.

  It’s not until I’m headed towards the security lineups that I spot Max, arriving late, rushing awkwardly through the automatic glass doors with a duffel bag over his shoulder. I keep walking, my head ducked down low, knowing he hasn’t caught sight of me.

  Once through security, I check in with our music director, and then spend my time in a bookshop several gates down while waiting for the boarding announcement overhead. I try to convince myself that I’m just passing the time – rather than avoiding someone.

  Evading Max, like a fugitive from break-up jail, was not how I saw this trip unfolding. Only a few short months ago, I was thrilled that Max and I might be travelling together. I’d imagined curling into him on this flight; endless hours of silliness in the land of make believe; just hanging out, talking…kissing. It takes effort to suppress these fairytale wishes.

  When my section of the plane is eventually called, I end up in a window seat, mid-way through the cabin, and set to placing my small bag on the floor in front of me. As I look up, my breath catches, and I freeze, stiff and artificial like a wax museum statue. Max’s looming frame is making its way down the narrow centre aisle. His head moves from side to side, scanning the seats, still several rows ahead of me. At this very moment, a commercial jet plane feels illogically small. I realize that we, quite possibly, could be sitting – not only close to one another – but maybe right next to each other!

  Oh, God. I think I migh
t pass out. What will I do if he ends up beside me for the entire flight? There’s nowhere to go, and it feels like the oxygen within the hull is rapidly disappearing – like all the passengers are cramming into an elevator. I bow my head and look away. So much for flight travel feeling safe. I only register legs moving through the aisle to my right until – I swear – I feel his gaze burning into the back of my neck. The tiny hairs, there, are standing at attention like they’re peering in the direction that I can’t bear to.

  But, wait. Is there a small part of me that wants this? Is this fear or anticipation? I’m still avoiding eye contact when I hear the seat cushion beside me exhale with the press of a body against it.

  “Hey, Serena,” comes a soft voice.

  My head jerks up to find one of the flute players fumbling for her seatbelt. I finally exhale, hoping that she missed the expression of panic that must have been plastered all over my face.

  “Oh. Hi, Marianna.” I smile in awkward relief.

  Getting settled on the other side of Marianna is her close friend Lucy, an oboe player. I steal a glance towards the incoming passengers, and find Max absent from the pack. A small taste of disappointment fills my mouth. He must have passed by my row on the way to the back of the plane, perhaps ending up with one of the last seats assigned to our group. But I don’t dare look back there, now.

  I can see Vanessa and Emily sitting a few rows ahead of me. I’m not surprised when they are reminded three times to shut down their devices before we finally take off from the runway. My seatmates and I make small talk every so often during the flight – when food arrives, or they ask what movie I’m going to watch from the selections. I choose a random action flick, but spend most of the time staring out the window at the plush carpet of clouds. It’s a long flight, with an hour-long stopover in Dallas that turns into a sprint from one end of the airport to the other after our flight landing is delayed by weather.

  Once we touch down in Orlando, we’re funnelled through a series of hallways to the baggage retrieval area, and then onto the bus lines labeled for our resort.

  Minutes later, we are finally outside, and the warm evening air wraps around my skin. It’s amazing how it feels. I can sense the damp, cold, winter tension begin to slip away. It’s like I was trapped beneath a layer of ice that melts, trickles off, and disappears into the ground below, allowing my body to finally move freely again.

  In less than an hour’s drive, we pull into the resort parking lot, and Mr. Yankov stands to silence us all.

  “I know you are all excited to be here, and I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate this senior class on all the extra rehearsal time you have put in these past two months to ready yourselves for the competitions here in the days to come. I would also like to remind you of the rules of conduct forms each of you signed prior to our arrival.” To this, he tips his head in a meaningful gesture. “You all know your room assignments. I expect each of you to demonstrate the good judgment and character that behooves the students of Lord Stanley. We have arranged a 7:00 am wake up call to your rooms, and will expect to see you at the buses after breakfast for 8:30 sharp.”

  I imagine Mr. Ramada is giving a similar speech to most of the Drama and Visual Arts students on the other bus. They’ll be attending behind-the-scenes tours at several stage shows, involved in set designs and performance.

  “Talk about a buzzkill,” mutters Malik from behind me. He’s sitting with Emily, holding her hand. Over the holidays, he finally asked her out, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.

  We begin to file off the bus to find our rooms. Max was sitting near the front, so by the time I climb down the stairs to the pavement below, I see his silhouette disappear around the corner of the closest building. I let out a breath of relief – but notice that it leaves me feeling strangely deflated, as well.

  I’ve ended up sharing a room with Emily, Vanessa, and Grace. They needed a fourth. It was Grace who asked me.

  “I’m first in the bathroom!” Vanessa calls out once we crowd through the doorway, dragging our bags behind us.

  There’s not much room for our four suitcases, except to line them up beside the small table and chair by the window that overlooks the courtyard below. The room is swimming with caricatures of mermaids and various other sea life from one of the Disney movies. Emily and Grace take Vanessa’s retreat as an opportunity to claim one of the two beds for themselves. They both know that sharing a double bed with Vanessa is like trying to share the spotlight onstage; I’ll be lucky if I’m not kicked to the floor tonight. I shed enough articles of clothing to sleep in my t-shirt and underwear, pulling back the ocean-themed covers to get settled.

  Vanessa’s gate falters only a moment when she reappears, wearing a bright pink pyjama shorts set, but it’s enough for me to catch it at the instant she realizes we’re bedmates. Grace has squeezed through to take her turn brushing her teeth while Emily taps away on her cell phone, probably texting Malik about the epic events that have transpired during the few minutes they’ve been apart. Vanessa crawls between the sheets beside me, and gives me a quick smile – the kind you’d give a stranger you were forced to share a bed with: reluctant and intruded upon.

  “You excited?” she asks me.

  “I guess.” My voice sounds small and uninterested, even to me.

  I can see her annoyed reaction to this. She shakes her head before pulling up the electronic screen between us – her phone.

  Emily lets out another giggle, her wide eyes glowing in reflection, and her fingers still glued to the phone like a bug-eyed tree frog. Grace has emerged from the bathroom and is eagerly reading through all the information pamphlets in the room – she did a whole lot of fundraising and took an extra part-time job to afford this trip. Vanessa is tapping away on her screen beside me – probably to the guy I’ve heard she’s seeing back home.

  A flash memory of Max’s ridiculous mathematical poetry texts spills over me abruptly. It’s like a beautiful, curling, wave that crashes down, taking me under and making it impossible to breathe. The reality of our split smacks hard and keeps me submerged, helpless in the solitude I feel among my friends tonight. I realize I could be making plans with him for tomorrow. I could be sneaking out to see him right now.

  It suddenly hits me what a drag I’ve been. This trip is supposed to be the highlight of our graduating year. And here I am, still feeling…nothing. Or, not nothing; but it’s like one of those algebraic equations – one side cancelling out the other. I’m excited but anxious; eager but reluctant; pining but regretful. My emotions offset one another until the equation equals zero – my feelings are null. And it’s just the opposite for my friends. They are anticipation and laughter, fiery anger and glee – where the variables result in infinite possibilities.

  With that irreconcilable thought, I turn over and drift off into the void.

  In what seems like only minutes later, Vanessa’s phone wakes us up with a loud, bass-thumping dance track. Emily groans, but Grace doesn’t stir until her bedmate elbows her in the ribs.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  She sits up with a start, reaching for her ears, and then reveals a set of earplugs in her hands.

  “God! I thought you were dead, or something.” Emily laughs.

  “Hey, if I didn’t bring these, I’d have to listen to all your babbling in your sleep.” She switches to a high-pitched taunt, so unlike her usual shyness. “Oh, Malik. I love you so much, Malik. You finger your trumpet so well, Malik.”

  “Shut up!” Emily yells as she hits Grace over the head with a pillow, laughing.

  I can’t help but giggle with them.

  My body is still clocked into west coast time, so the first priority after we get dressed is definitely coffee. It’s a shock to find that, even this early in the morning, it’s warmer outside than in our air-conditioned rooms. At the edge of the resort pond, pelicans fly from beside one palm tree to another with wings that flap so lazily, it’s like even they’re
on vacation. One courtyard over, I can see the sparkle of bright blue water in an outdoor pool. As we head along the path, we run into two little kids wearing Mickey ear hats, running at full speed ahead of their bedraggled looking father who is balancing a tray of coffee with light sabers and water wings.

  We grab a quick breakfast, and soon we are on the bus headed to our first theme park. We suffer through the obligatory speech about staying with a school friend, and arrange to meet at the main entrance restaurant for dinner before we are completely free to roam through the park for the day.

  Max is ahead of us, with Hayden, Boris, and a couple of the girls from the orchestra. It’s easy enough to see where he is at all times: he’s like the tallest tree in the forest. I keep my distance – but also keep my eye on him. As they begin walking towards the park entrance, he leans down to one of the girls, like he’s trying to hear her above the excited chatter of the crowds. A sharp and unfamiliar flush of irritation fills me when he straightens up and laughs at whatever she said. I have to remind myself that it was my choice – I’m the one who ran that night – I’m the one with the secret – I’m the one that let him believe it was over because of the lies implied by Vanessa. Secrets and lies are keeping us apart.

  Vanessa and Emily insist on going to the music shows right away. The first one has enormous, colourful life-size puppets from The Lion King, acrobats, musicians and singers. The whole place magically transforms into the African-themed story. It’s easily something you might see at a Broadway show, and we’re all completely blown away. Later, we travel past the mansion-sized baobab Tree of Life in the middle of the park, and up through some East Asian village sections, grabbing a bite to eat as we go. We spend almost an hour in a lineup for some crazy mountain roller coaster before heading to a water ride close by. It takes us through rapids and unexpected shooting jet sprays that soak both Vanessa and me in the process. The water is a relief after enduring the cramped lineups, but Vanessa is less than pleased at being drenched from head to foot.