Friday 6:12 A.M.
Paul decided to have a cookie and some milk. He headed to the kitchen. The house was quiet. He’d taken his first bite of Mrs. Talucci’s confections and a sip of milk when he heard a car park in the alley. He recognized the rumble of Brian’s 1965 Nash Rambler. Dawn was breaking as Brian, in his disheveled tuxedo, shirt untucked, bow tie askew, slipped in the back door.
Paul asked, “How was the Prom?”
“You’re up,” Brian said.
“I just got in a little while ago myself.”
Brian sat at the table and looked up at his dad. “It was great.”
“How was Shane?”
“We talked before the dance. We had time in the limo because we were the first two to be picked up. I arranged it that way so we could talk.”
“How’d that go?”
“Good. He knows I don’t want a relationship, and he knows I’m straight. It was really kind of flattering.” He got up, took a bottle of yellow goo out of the fridge, and sipped. He made a face. “He thinks you guys are cool.”
“How so?”
Brian sipped again. “That’s not the first word that comes to mind when I think of you guys, cool.”
“What’s the first word?”
Brian didn’t hesitate. “Dad.”
Paul smiled. He offered Brian one of Mrs. Talucci’s cookies. The boy wolfed it down, swallowed some more juice, then said, “He asked me if I’d dance one slow dance with him.”
“What’d you say?”
“He said it would be the highlight of the night if I’d do that.” He sipped again. “So I did.”
“How was it?”
“A little odd.”
“That was a kind thing to do. I’m proud of you. Did the other kids make fun?”
“No. It’s not like it was the first high school dance with two guys dancing. We’re both pretty big and athletic. The people I care about know I’m straight. The people I don’t know, I don’t care about. And I’ll be gone in a few months anyway.” He stood up and put the half-filled container of yellow goo back in the refrigerator. “I gotta get changed and get my stuff for the Dunes.”
Paul asked, “You heard your baseball coach quit?”
“Yeah, that was a shitty thing to do to Shane. I heard the coach was supposed to meet with Mrs. Talucci, but quit first.” The boy smiled. “She’s a marvel.”
Brian hesitated in the kitchen doorway.
“You and Ben knew something was wrong, didn’t you?”
“Ben and I suspected.”
“How?”
“I’ve known you eighteen years. I must have learned something. You weren’t yourself. You were doing things you do when you’re down. And we know about your stash in the garage under your sports equipment.”
“You know about the candy bars?”
“We found it by accident. Just because you don’t clean your room, doesn’t mean we don’t clean the garage.”
“You guys never said anything.”
“It’s best not to let you discover all of our parental secrets. The key is you’re okay. The prom was good. You’ve got a scholarship to college. And I love you.”
In two strides Brian was on him and giving him a huge bear hug. “Thanks, Dad.” He grabbed a couple more of Mrs. Talucci’s cookies and strolled out the door.