Exiled to Iowa. Send Help. And Couture

by Chris O'Guinn

  “Oh?” Austin asked in a very interested voice.

  “It turns out, there’s more we can do than kissing. Who knew?”

  “Really? Not that I don’t love the kissing, but if there’s more, it’s always good to mix things up.”

  I laughed softly. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You know that, right?”

  Austin was quiet for a moment. “Yes … but it is nice to hear. I know I’m not what you dreamed up when you thought of who you’d get involved with.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh please, I know you had an elaborate fantasy of some tall, muscular prince riding in from a foreign land—on a unicorn, I suspect—and smiling at you with his perfect white teeth and wearing the most fashionable outfit and asking you to come back with him to his castle.”

  I giggled. “There was no unicorn. I’m not a girl, you brat.”

  Austin laughed a little as well. “Oh, there so was. It was probably a unicorn that could change colors, too, so it always matched the prince’s outfit.”

  “Well, now, it would have to be, wouldn’t it?” I grinned. “I really love you, you know?”

  I had not spoken that word since it had slipped out one first time. It had seemed to make Austin uncomfortable, so I had kept it in its cage and fed it hearts and rainbows that seemed to be constantly swirling around my head.

  “You know, Col? I think I love you too.”

  My heart stopped, considering that admission for a while before remembering its job was to pump blood to my body. “Really?”

  “If this isn’t love, then I don’t know what it is.”

  I swallowed hard. How could the world be spinning when I was laying flat on my back? I closed my eyes and let the euphoria take hold of me. Life was too wonderful to be believed. I felt tingly all over, electrified by his confession.

  “So, I was thinking….” My voice abandoned me for a moment. I wrestled it back into place. “Er, sometime, while your dad’s at practice, we could hang out at your place and … study the book together?”

  “You sure?”

  “No, but that’s not unusual. You’ll just have to be patient with me.”

  “I think I can manage,” he agreed. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what are your plans for your birthday?”

  In all the excitement of falling head over heels for Austin, I had almost forgotten I was turning sixteen on Saturday. “My parents are planning a surprise party, I think.”

  “Damn you, how did you figure it out?” he demanded.

  I laughed. “Hah! I figured you would be in on it.” I gloated for only the briefest moment. “I just know my folks. Every year they make a big deal about it. This year, they only asked me what sort of cake I wanted. So, I asked a couple of people and strangely, my friends all seem to have ‘plans’ for Saturday. I smelled a conspiracy in the works.”

  “You jerk,” he sulked. “You’d better at least act surprised.”

  “Oh, I will. And it’s really sweet, honestly. What was your part in it?”

  “Well....” He let me dangle for a moment. “They asked me to round up your friends.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘our’ friends?”

  “I take no responsibility for your freak show,” Austin told me with a chuckle. “Anyway, in return, I get you to myself for Sunday.”

  “Oh, and was anyone going to consult me?”

  “Not that I know of,” he returned smartly.

  We talked until well past midnight when my dad finally forced me to hang up. It took a while for me to get to sleep, my mind racing with Austin-related thoughts. I was so in love. Everything about him made me smile. I even loved the sound of his name. It was on my lips as I finally drifted off.

  The only thing marring the perfection of my daydreams were the constant interruptions from Anxiety about Becca and how I was going to explain to her that I only wanted to be friends. Homecoming was looming large on the horizon, and I had to say something to her so she could go with someone else.

  Austin was patient and sympathetic, but also quite unreasonable about any suggestions that I just go with her and explain things later. He can be a little cruel about denying my need to avoid confrontation.

  I had completely failed to do anything to help Billy and Becca get together, having let myself get consumed with Austin and being with Austin and all other Austin-related topics. Pleasant though that had been, I was now paying the price because I was out of time. The dance was only days away.

  I absolutely hated the idea of hurting Becca in any way, even for a good cause. However, I could not have her thinking we were a couple. There was nowhere that could go that would be good for either of us.

  I caught her after school, pulling her aside so we could talk without much of an audience. If it got ugly, I didn’t want to have the whole school staring at us. I love to perform, but some things are best left private.

  “What’s up?” she asked me.

  “Uh … I was thinking.... You and Billy....”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be silly. We’re just friends. He’s changed a lot, you know?”

  “Yes … I did notice.” It was a good sign that she was already aware of the “new Billy.” That suggested I had a chance of making this work. “You think he really just wants to be friends?”

  Becca gave me a sympathetic look. “Col, I know he was kind of a jerk to you, but he really has changed. If it bothers you that we’re getting to be friends—”

  “No,” I interrupted her. “No, quite the opposite. You’re right, he’s okay. And I think he really likes you so….” I had to just take the plunge. “So, maybe you should go to Homecoming with him.”

  Becca started to laugh, and then she caught on that I was not kidding. “What are you talking about?”

  Her confusion wilted into a look of betrayal. I winced. “It just seems to me you should go with someone who wants to go as, you know, a date—instead of as, you know, uh, just friends.”

  I watched as her eyes filled with all the hurt and rejection I had feared she would feel. There were no words that could make this easy. I had been stupid and blind and now she thought we were something more than friends.

  “If you don’t want to go with me, you just have to tell me.”

  In the face of her pain, my courage faltered. The words, “Becca, it’s not that I don’t like you, it’s just that I am really terribly gay” stopped halfway out of my throat, turned around and ran back to hide in the pit of my stomach.

  I gave it another try. “It’s not that I don’t want to go with you, Becca.”

  “But you would only be going as a friend,” she replied, her voice full of heartache.

  I nodded, having no clue what else to do. I didn’t want to lie about my lack of feelings for her. Paralyzed by all of the impressions I didn’t want to give and aching for her, I just watched as she turned and ran off. I felt horrible, but at least it was done. I had to hope she would forgive me; but again, that was outside of my control.

  I moped my way to the gym and sat next to Austin. He eyed me with concern and gave my hand a covert squeeze of support. I was grateful to him for it, and resentful of society’s stupid prejudices that kept me from clinging to him like a spider-monkey. One could argue I had no real business feeling sorry for myself since it was Becca who was hurting, but I’m selfish sometimes.

  “Didn’t go too well?” Austin asked.

  He knew what I was up to, trying to match-make Billy and Becca. He had expressed certain disapproving sentiments, but had otherwise left the mess in my hands. Austin was also aware that today was the day that Becca would learn I was not going to Homecoming with her.

  “No,” I told him miserably.

  “I’m sorry,” he told me honestly. “Is she going with Billy?”

  “I have no idea. At this point, I don’t know if she’ll ever speak to me again.”

  “Aw, man,” Austin gave me a supportive glance.

  “Still want to hang out
on Homecoming night?”

  Austin smiled at me. “Yes.”

  At least I had something to look forward to. I was probably going to need it, since my encounter with Becca was sure to rile up Keith and that would put me out of favor with two of my friends. I wasn’t sure what I could have done to have avoided the whole mishap, but I was certain there had to have been something.

  The production of Moulin Rouge had been given a tentative approval. Kretchmer wanted a final review of the edited script and then he would decide if more cuts were needed. We’d already tamed it beyond what I felt was reasonable. We’d cut the “Like a Virgin” number altogether and rewrote the scene with the Duke attacking Satine to make it less traumatizing for middle America. However, it was Kretchmer’s call, so all we could do was hope he was satisfied.

  With that hurdle mostly overcome, the sets were taking shape and costumes were being hunted down. There would be no way, of course, to make it as grand or fabulous as the movie, but Austin had some fairly ambitious sketches he had shown me.

  Yes, he can draw, too. Sickening, isn’t it?

  It took a few days to get through the auditions, what with time constraints and schedules and what-not. I had opted out of trying for a part. I just had too much to do, and it was going to be a lot of fun just getting the show up and running. Lundquist was going to direct, of course, but he graciously allowed me to help in the casting.

  We had bucket-loads of talent to work with, so it was going to be a huge challenge to decide who would do what. Shawna and Jackie were the real powerhouses, but neither of them wanted the lead. Shawna was busy with her field-hockey team and Jackie worked too many hours. It was a serious setback for the production, but the show—as has been said—must go on.

  Out of that misfortune, though, a brilliant idea was born. Some might have characterized it as insane, but that’s just cynicism. Becca was almost as good as Shawna, after all and she had more of the right look for Satine anyway. Billy had raw talent and with some work, I was sure he could handle the part of Christian. Casting them as the doomed lovers was just the thing to push them together and get Becca to see Billy as a much better focus for her romantic interests.

  “Becca I can sort of see,” Lundquist told me dubiously when I presented my idea to him. “But Billy? Do you really want to trust this whole show to him if you’re wrong….”

  “I’m not. They look perfect and they have the talent. Trust me.”

  Lundquist eyed me. “Okay, but this is on your head. If Billy blows this, I’ll hang you from the flagpole by your heels.”

  I dismissed his concerns with casual certitude, though I would have felt more comfortable if I could have been sure that his threat had been a joke. I was completely positive that my plan would work. Granted, I’d been sure my previous plan would work too, but that was a minor detail.

  To my surprise, Becca reacted to the news of her imminent stardom with hostility. “What, you feel sorry for me so you want to give me the lead as some sort of apology?”

  I had no idea where she had found such an absurd idea, but I decided against telling her she was being ridiculous. “No. You’re talented and Lundquist and I think you’ll be fabulous.”

  Becca scoffed at that idea. “Shawna would be better.”

  I decided to not mention Shawna’s lack of availability, since that would undermine my whole argument. “Why don’t you leave the casting up to the experts. Come on, please?’

  I pulled out my secret weapon – the Puppy Eyes of Doom. No one has ever been able to resist them. Becca glowered at me for a moment before finally relenting. I suppose it helped that I was also begging shamelessly.

  Billy was surprised and horrified by being cast as the lead. “Are you insane?”

  “That’s a fair question,” I told him as we conferred between classes. “But believe me, if I thought you couldn’t do this, I wouldn’t have pushed Lundquist into casting you. I may be a romantic, but I wouldn’t let you destroy my first production.”

  Billy gave me a funny look. “You ... really think I can do this?”

  The idea astounded him and I guessed that he had probably never been entrusted with anything so important. He really confounded me. He was such a tough-acting, obnoxious, straight boy any signs of vulnerability from him came out of nowhere. I was still trying to figure him out.

  “Trust me. We’ll have to spend some time rehearsing, but I’ll have you belting out ballads before you know it.”

  Billy smiled a little, looking cautiously hopeful. “If you say so....”

  “Have you talked to Becca?” I asked uneasily.

  His frown was expressive. “Yeah, she doesn’t want to go to the dance with me.”

  “Sorry,” I told him, and I meant it. “Just be patient. We’ll make it work.”

  Billy shook his head, his eyes reflecting serious confusion. “I really don’t understand why you’re going to all this trouble.”

  “Purely selfish reasons, I promise. If this works, then you’ll be happy, which means I don’t get slugged or tossed into Dumpsters—and Becca will be happy, and forget that I hurt her.”

  Or, at least, that was the great big hope, anyway.

  Most of my ducks were politely lining up and quacking out a pleasant tune. The only one out of place was Becca, and I forced myself to not dwell on that. I had a club that was doing great, I had a boyfriend and it was looking more and more certain that Shawn would be back in L.A. right on schedule. I focused on all of these positives to distract me from the guilt I felt at hurting Becca.

  The biggest surprise to me was that Keith didn’t even mention it. I sat down at lunch in my usual spot with a great feeling of trepidation, but Keith just said hi and told me about some new product we got in at the store. I had no idea what the deal was, but I wasn’t going to bring it up if he didn’t. Austin and I exchanged a confused look, but then we turned our attention to Nick, who was bragging about a date he had with Jackie.

  I awoke on Saturday with a feeling of worldly maturity. I was sixteen, finally. There was something magical about the number; I was no longer a child or even a young teen to be dismissed out of hand, but I was still not an adult, still flush with youth. I greeted the day with a great big smile and then reminded myself I had to act like I wasn’t getting a surprise party.

  “We were thinking a quiet dinner in might be nice,” my mother told me over breakfast—brunch might be a more accurate description, as late as I had slept.

  “Oh?” I asked, adding an artful touch of disappointment to my tone.

  “Well, now that those hideous appliances have all finally gone to the great scrap-yard in the sky, I have something close to a real kitchen. I could make all of your favorites. You could even invite over Austin, if that wouldn’t destroy your cool mojo or whatever you kids call it these days.”

  “Oh, sure, sounds … fine,” I told her, ramping up my tragic look a few notches.

  My father came out of the office and grinned. “Sixteen, huh? Hard to believe.”

  “I know, who’d have thought it would ever get here?”

  He laughed. “I suppose it would seem that way to you, wouldn’t it?” My dad turned to my mom with a casual look. “So, we’ll be back in a few hours.”

  That drew me up short. “We’re going somewhere?”

  “We need to get your birthday present, don’t we?”

  I was nonplussed. My dad viewed shopping with the same enthusiasm one might look at getting a root-canal. “Er, okay.”

  My Dad tossed me the keys to our modest sedan, a further shock to my system. I had just recently received my Iowa learner’s permit and I had not expected to need it so soon. Clearly, this was on its way to being the best birthday of all time. I ran off to get the piece of paper that was the first step to freedom and then bounded out to the car.

  “Turn right on Jessup,” my Dad instructed me as we drove along.

  Thrumming with excitement, I did just as he asked—checking all my blind-spots and sig
naling and all that other silly stuff. God, I was driving! I hadn’t been behind the wheel since California. My smile was verging on splitting my face in two.

  “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you, Col?”

  That right there was worth more than any birthday present in the history of time. “No, but I figured your shock was a good sign,” I said modestly.

  “I’m serious, son. You’ve really thrown yourself into this club thing. Your teachers tell me you’re doing great in your classes. Some of them actually like you.”

  “I’ll work on that,” I told him with a smirk. “Can’t have that, after all.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “And … Austin does seem like a nice young man.”

  I nearly veered into a giant elm tree. My Dad had tacitly acknowledged my homosexuality in many ways since my chat with Mom, but he had never brought it up with me. I was so flustered and conflicted that my tongue tied itself into knots. My jaw worked as I tried to figure out how to talk to my dad about my boyfriend.

  Strangely, I actually wanted to.

  “Austin’s a great guy, Dad,” I told him in a nervous voice. “I’m really lucky.”

  “I just want you to be happy, son. I really mean that.”

  My heart fluttered in glorious terror. I felt misty-eyed at his approval. There had never been any doubt in my mind that he loved me, but I had always just accepted that he loved Shawn more. My brother was the son he wanted; athletic, bursting at the seams with integrity and very straight. Next to Shawn, I was sort of a like a parting gift they hand out to the losers at game shows. It had never really bothered me because in my family, even being second best had me loved and supported—if not actually understood.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I told him, fighting against a wave of sentimentality.

  “It’s going to be hard on all of us, having Shawn leave. But it’s what’s best for him.”

  My eyes flickered over to him. The decision had been made. I had done it. I had saved Shawn from being lost in obscurity in the middle of Iowa. “When…?”

  “We spoke to Jack’s parents. We’ll be moving him in over the Thanksgiving weekend.”