Prom Night, High School
Keane started out at Boston Glenn as the new bully, but by spring of their senior year he was king of the school literally—or at least he would be crowned the king tonight, Lena had no doubt.
His current GOM--girlfriend of the month, as Lena started calling them after his fifth break-up right before their junior winter break—was Cordelia Roe. This being Boston Glenn, every school year ended with a supposedly secret but always widely broadcasted ranked list of the prettiest and richest girls at the school. Cordelia’s name could always be found near or in the case of their junior year, at the very top.
And this being their senior year, she refused to settle for simply reigning over the school as Boston Glenn’s Queen Bee. She’d been campaigning for the Prom Queen tiara big time, which meant her hot hockey player boyfriend would for sure get kinged right along beside her.
“Please come to prom with me, I’m begging you,” Vihaan pleaded as Lena helped him get dressed on prom night. “My big debut won’t be the same without you.”
No, it wouldn’t. Tonight Vihaan would be doing something four years and one secret boyfriend in the making, officially coming out. It killed Lena that she couldn’t support her best friend and the guy he’d met last summer at Tuft’s summer program for high school seniors. But… “I promised Dad I’d relieve him early tomorrow morning. And he’s always exhausted after his Saturday shifts.”
Vihaan, proving just how quick immigrant kids can adopt American teenage attitudes, rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, yes. Our parents are always exhausted. There is nothing to be done about this.”
Lena winced. “But you see, there is. I could keep my promise and work…”
“…during a once-in-a-lifetime event that you will never have the chance to relive.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s okay. Now, if you were burning Boston Glenn to the ground tonight, I’d be like, ‘Forget you, Dad and show up in a party dress.’”
“With matches!”
They cackled together. Boston Glenn had been their ticket to a big league education. Lena doubted Vihaan would have gotten into Tufts or she into Mount Holyoke, her mother’s alma mater, without the world-class education the prestigious school had afforded them. But by the end of four years, saying anything nice about their ridiculously snooty prep school felt a little like a reformed criminal saying jail had made them a better person. Sure they were better, but hell was still hell.
Which was why she was so proud of Vihaan for deciding to stand up to all the Richie Riches and live his truth, as opposed to pretending to date her.
“Seriously, come with us,” Vihaan said, taking her hands.
“I don’t have a dress, and I’d only be a third wheel,” Lena answered.
“We can stop by goodwill and get you a dress. Like Pretty in Pink or whatever.”
He frowned when Lena started shaking her head before he was even done with the suggestion.
“Is this because you don’t want to watch your boyfriend get crowned prom king?”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“What do you call giving him money for two years straight?”
“A really polite extortion agreement,” Lena answered honestly.
Vihaan huffed like she was honest-to-God keeping a secret from him. “Yes, yes, yes, he’s not your boyfriend. You only give him money every school day and stare at him whenever he is not looking.”
Lena took her hands back, no longer feeling the friendship moment. In fact…. “I’m starting to regret paying your protection money these last two years. I really should have let him escalate and assault you in the showers.”
“Still a top five wank bank fantasy,” Vihaan admitted. “But do not tell Jonah.”
Lena threatened to do just that. But when Jonah arrived at her house—Vihaan wasn’t quite ready to tell his mother and brother about being gay yet—all she said to the boyfriend who had inspired her best friend to give up his beard was congratulations.
She was so, so happy for them. But as she waved after the limo Jonah had rented, a rare moment of self-pity came over her.
Not because she wasn’t going to the prom. She could care less about that school dance. But because she’d spent so much time nursing her stupendously stupid crush on Keane.
He had never outright acknowledged the envelopes. Or even said a word to her. But he chin-nodded whenever they passed in the hall. And at least once a month she’d felt something like a burn on the side of her face and looked up to catch him watching her.
Such little moments. Tiny, infinitesimal moments. But they’d been enough to make her think about him constantly. To daydream about him also being into her instead of trying to hook up with someone actually in her league.
Not that she would have had time, she reminded herself. She wasn’t naturally smart like Vihaan.
“You do not have a natural talent in most of these arenas,” her dad had once admitted when she’d lamented ever being able to get a high score on her S.A.T’s. “But you are hard work smart. Like your future husband Rohan, you must study harder than everyone else to achieve the same results. But what makes you two such a good match is that you are willing to do so.”
Maybe her stupendously stupid crush on Keane had been a good thing, Lena decided as she turned back toward her house. It would never be requited, and it had allowed her all the time she needed to work hard.
Logically, she should be thanking her lucky stars for the heart that had zeroed in on the one guy she could never have.
So why did she feel so lonely as she walked back into the house all by herself on prom night?
That Summer, Eleven Years Ago
“Wait, wait, wait. So you’re trying to tell me Band Nerd not only came to your house, but went to prom without you?” Keane asked as they slow danced at a Cambridge based bar where they’d both just learned to salsa. He did not like her answer to his question about why she hadn’t shown up at prom.
She laughed and pretended that him being there with a date had nothing to do with it.
Fun, she reminded herself. This unexpected summer romance was only supposed to be about fun.
But then the slow song faded, and a Spanish Language version of “Pretty in Pink” took its place.
“See, even the DJ thinks that’s fucked up,” Keane said.
And he continued to hold her close, simply swaying to the ultimate prom song, even though… “We should start dancing again. Practice the moves we learned in class.”
“Give me a minute, bad girl,” he answered. “I’m imagining I took you to prom instead of whatever her name was.”
“Cordelia,” she whispered into his shoulder. “Cordelia Roe.”
“Yeah, whatever, it should have been you,” he said, resting the side of his face on top of her head. “One day, I’m going to send a limo for you, baby. Make it up to you.”
Eleven years later…
“Mom! Mom!” Max called, bursting into his grandfather’s house without warning, just as her father was getting ready to put together something for dinner. “Come look outside!”
“Max, what are you doing here?” she asked, getting up from the kitchen table where she was putting together a business plan to start a non-profit of her own. A non-profit just like the Institute for Better Boys, but centered on girls instead.
She’d been looking forward to going over all the details with her father, but now Max was here. Even though, she thought he was supposed to be going to some Stanley Cup tenth Anniversary commemoration thing tonight with his father. Did she get the date’s mixed up?
No…Max was dressed in a suit, nicer than anything she would have bought him. And Vihaan and Con stood with him in the front foyer, also in suits. And holding hands.
She startled at the sight, even though Vihaan had already texted her all about his new relationship. From a therapist’s POV, it made sense that Con might have been covering up some of his own homosexual feelings by bullying Vihaan those first two years at Boston Glenn. But it was going to take her a while to wrap her head around the former Stick not only coming out, but also Vihaan committing to a relationship with him less than three months after insisting he’d never date a hockey player in the front seat of his car.
Also, why was Vihaan, carrying a dress bag?
“What are you all doing here?” she asked.
“Come outside!” Max said, grabbing her by the hand and tugging her outside. “Look what Pop got you!”
A limo…a huge stretch limo sat idling in front of the house.
One day, I’m going to send a limo for you, baby. Make it up to you.
Lena’s heart swelled, the memory of that promise resonating in her chest.
“Mom?” Max asked beside her. “Are you coming?”
“He got you a dress, too,” stepping out onto the porch with Con.
She couldn’t answer.
This was why she hated him. This was why she loved him. He was a Masshole who would do anything to win. But he always made it up to her.
She placed a hand on her stomach. Her pregnant stomach, as was confirmed a few days ago when she returned from her father’s new property and decided to stop binge watching teen dramas and get her adult life together.
Her dad had also come out to the porch now. And it felt like everyone, including the baby Keane had given her, was waiting for her answer.
Would she take Keane back? Accept his marriage proposal, like he wasn’t a walking red flag?
She took a deep breath and gave them and herself the final answer to those questions.