“You’ve got to put yourself out there more, Stevie.” Edmond’s voice came through clearly on the speaker of my iPhone.
I lay on my bed and stared at the line where my high ceiling met the rising brick wall. Holding the phone against my cheek, I thought of how I’d describe the intersection of two such unique textures. Of course there was the aesthetic, the rich colors, the materials, the symmetry, but in this moment I felt more drawn to what the structure represented. The very building blocks of my loft symbolized stability, strength, and most of all, safety. They offered a symbolic balance to my current phone conversation with my publicist.
“Make yourself vulnerable, available, transparent. It’s what writers do.”
“Thanks for the explanation. All this time I thought writers wrote.”
“Unpublished writers, maybe. But you’re a successful novelist, and you want to be a produced playwright, which means you have to network.”
“I’m not good at networking. It’s all fake small talk and sweaty palms. I don’t want to waste an evening being socially awkward with people I’ve never met and will probably never see again.”
“It doesn’t have to be strangers. I got a call from Rory St. James yesterday. She wanted your phone number.”
I sat up at the mention of Rory’s name. The small-town gay activist who’d confronted her demons head-on had been in the news a lot lately after remaking herself and finding love in the town she’d once fled. The same hometown I’d left in my rearview mirror. Everyone we’d grown up with was a bit in awe of Rory, myself included. I was also impressed she even knew I existed. “Why does she want to talk to me?”
“She’s on some arts committee in Darlington.” Edmond sounded like he found the idea amusing. “They want to give you an award.”
That wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t so great either. I probably should’ve been flattered but felt only a mix of relief and disappointment Rory had called on a formality. “Just have her mail the certificate to your office, will ya?”
“They want you to go there to accept it.”
“Pass.”
“What do you mean ‘pass’? It’s free publicity.”
“It’s fluff, I’m busy, I don’t want to.” I flopped back onto the bed, unwilling to give the idea of a return to Darlington another thought. “Whatever. Just pass. Okay?”
“Fine.” Edmond acquiesced, but the flippancy of his tone made me suspect the topic wasn’t fully closed.
“Have you had any bites on the play?” I asked, ready for a change of subject.
“Not yet, but you’ll have another shot at the Theater of Youth fund-raiser next week. Especially if you agree to say a few words.”
“Not going to happen.” The tension in my neck ratcheted up a notch at the prospect of spending a night in a room full of politically charged actors and activists. “I’m not going to the actual dinner, but I’ll send a check.”
Edmond blew out an exasperated breath directly into the phone. “This is your charity of choice. You’re the one who mentioned the event to me. You said you loved youth theater.”
“I do. That’s why I’ll send a check, but I don’t want to get into politics.”
“Even politics you agree with? You won’t lift your voice for something you claim to love?”
I threw off the covers and put my bare feet on the cool hardwood floor. I didn’t have to defend myself to him. He worked for me, not the other way around. Not that I’d ever have the guts or the inclination to tell him that. Still, I wouldn’t be pushed into a political minefield. I’d lived almost thirty years by staying above the fray and had no intention of slipping now.
“Stevie, these kids need this program, and they need people in a position of power to speak for them. You’ve got the time, the money, and the talent. What do you have to lose?”
“Why do you care? If youth theater matters so much to you, then why don’t you give the speech or direct a play?” Why couldn’t anything be easy? I just wanted to give money to a good cause without fighting with anyone.
“I’m not the one shopping a new play. I’m not the one selling books. You are, and you hired me to help.”
“Right, I hired you so I could focus on my writing and you could handle all the publicity.” Actually I’d hired him because he was the only publicist I’d ever heard of. And he only took my call because I went to school with Rory, but still I paid him a nice cut of my royalties so I wouldn’t have to exert any energy on anything but the actual writing.
“You have to give me something to publicize first.”
“I gave you the script for the play.”
“Yes, you’ve got a great play, but so does half of Manhattan.”
“Fine.” I threw up my free hand in defeat. “If their plays are better than mine, I can live with that. I just want to be judged on my merits.”
“You’re adorable.” Edmond laughed. “But you clearly don’t understand how this business works. Without a solid hook you won’t get judged at all. The big names won’t even read the synopsis of an unknown.”
“I’m not an unknown. I have three high-selling novels.”
“They could be best-selling novels if you’d publicize them.” Edmond’s voice rose in volume and pitch as his frustration built. “And I could sell a best-selling author, but I can’t sell someone who refuses to put herself out there.”
I wandered across my apartment to my one big window. Ignoring the reflection of my black hair standing out at odd angles, I pressed my forehead to the cool glass and stared down into the gray streets of New York. I sighed, unwilling to be swept into an argument. I hated confrontation, and this one had already drained me enough for one day. “What do you want from me?”
“Something, anything personal to help me connect you to a producer. Give me an impassioned speech about theater education, or play up your small-town-girl-makes-it-big backstory. Hell, fuck a Rockette in the middle of Times Square to get your name in the tabloids. Do something I can spin.”
Damn. He’d led me right back to the event in Darlington because he knew I’d never consider the other two options. Well, I was open to sleeping with a Rockette, but not the tabloids, and that’s the part he cared about. “I don’t want to go back to Darlington.”
“Why not? Look what it did for Rory St. James’s career. Connecting yourself to her right now would move you way up the social food chain, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my client too,” Edmond said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Go back to your hometown for one night, talk to people you already know, accept an award without a speech, and then come home.”
“It’s not simple.” My resolve wavered but didn’t crack. I had a bad feeling about this whole thing, though I couldn’t articulate why.
“Sure it is. I get a human-interest story, and you get an award and your picture taken with a celebrity. Rory gets to mentor an up-and-coming artist. Everyone wins.”
“She doesn’t want to mentor me, and it doesn’t matter because I’m not Rory St. James. I have no ax to grind. My writing isn’t about Darlington. It’s not even about being gay. My hometown means nothing to me. It’s just a place I used to live.”
“Then why are you afraid to go back there?”
“I’m not afraid.” I was protesting, but I wasn’t sure what I felt about Darlington. Maybe fear was part of it, but more than anything the idea exhausted me, much the same way this conversation did. I’d spent my youth trying to get by, trying to do just enough to stay solidly in the middle. I didn’t want to stand out as exceptional, but I didn’t want to be an outsider either. Maybe that’s what bothered me about this award. I’d stand out. I’d be acknowledged and therefore exposed.
Still, at least I could leave after a day. Even if I did humiliate myself, I wouldn’t have to live with the consequences there like I would if I messed up in New York. Plus in Darlington no one whose opinion actually mattered would be around to see if I fell flat. I could slip in and slip out, then leave all the publicity spin to Edmond. I did want to see my play produced, and while I hated taking a chance, this one seemed the least risky of my current options.
“Come on, Stevie. You’ll be in and out, and I’ll even drive down to hold your hand along the way.”
I wasn’t sure if his presence would make me feel better or worse, but at least with Edmond around I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping up my end of the conversation since he rarely let anyone else get a word in. “Fine, I’ll do it. For one day.”
“Yes, of course, just one day. How bad can one day be?”
*
“Hey, Stevie,” someone called.
I scanned the crowd at St. Louis’s Lambert Airport until I saw a sign that read GELLER. Cringing at the blatant display of attention, I forced myself not to grab the sign out of Rory’s hands and toss it into the nearest trashcan. Instead I jammed my hands into the pockets of my olive-green cargo pants and said, “Hey, I don’t know if you remember me, but—”
“Of course I remember you.” Rory laughed easily. She was even more magnetic than she’d been in high school, and that was saying a lot. “Beth made the sign. She loves cutesy little things like that and I…well, I love her.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the silly grin on Rory’s face. Who would’ve thought the mere mention of a plain Midwestern farmer’s daughter could turn such a formidable warrior into mush. A hint of longing tapped at my own heart, but I shrugged it off and grabbed my bag. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“No worries. Beth and I enjoyed the chance to spend a morning in the Central West End. She’s in the car. We couldn’t find a place to park.” Rory nodded toward the luggage carousel. “Do you have any more bags?”
“No, just the one. I’m only here overnight.”
Rory nodded sympathetically as we headed toward the parking lot. “Are you silently thanking God for that now?”
“What? No,” I lied. I’d been counting the hours until my return flight would touch down at JFK tomorrow night. I’d actually started counting before I left as I lay awake trying to calculate how many hours of sleep I could get if I fell asleep right that instant. Of course I didn’t fall asleep right then. With all the thoughts of my return to Darlington, the pressure to drum up good publicity, and the fear of a public appearance I didn’t sleep at all, so as the sun began to peek above the crowded New York skyline, I shifted my countdown to reflect the number of hours until I’d be back in my own bed once more. Only thirty-four to go.
“It’s okay. I was in your shoes not long ago, which is why I appreciate your coming back. It’s important for the kids around here to see success stories like yours. It shows them there’s life out there, you know?”
I didn’t know, really. I’d never considered myself a success story, and certainly not a role model. Sure, I’d published a few books, but I wasn’t what most people would call famous. I still had so much more to accomplish, which of course was the only reason I’d agreed to this trip in the first place.
As we stepped outside, a blue Prius pulled to a stop and Beth Deveroux got out. I might not have recognized her if I hadn’t been expecting her. She’d grown out of her teenage awkwardness and into an hourglass frame. Her form-fitting blue jeans and a light-blue V-neck sweater made it a little clearer why Rory went all romantic at just the mention of her. I’d last seen her at her parents’ funeral eleven years ago, and she looked like a new woman now. Not just older and happier, but also beautiful. “Hi, Stevie.”
“Hi, Beth.” I tried to stick out my hand, but Beth drew me into a hug. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been hugged. Not a real hug anyway. People in New York often did that shoulder-grab-and-lean-in sort of greeting, but Beth chose a full-on arm wrap and body press.
“Are you hungry?” Beth asked, stepping back.
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay, let’s get on the road then.” Beth handed the keys to Rory with a sweet kiss, then said, “Stevie, why don’t you ride up front? You’ve got longer legs than I do.”
“Thanks.” Normally I’d refuse so I could try to avoid making conversation, but after being on a plane for two hours, I did feel a little cramped. Or maybe the stress of my responsibilities and my past had started to weigh me down as we headed away from the city and toward the great expanse of farmland along I-55.
“When was the last time you came home?” Beth asked.
“About five years ago, for my parents’ retirement party. I haven’t had a reason to visit since they moved to Boca Raton. I don’t have any other family in the area.”
“Is there anyone you want to see while you’re in Darlington?” Rory asked. “You’re welcome to use one of our cars while you’re here.”
“I haven’t kept in touch with anyone since graduation. You know how busy life gets.”
“Sure.” Rory only glanced from the road to search my expression with those trademark emerald eyes for a second. “Well, Edmond and Miles will get in around five o’clock tonight, and then we’re all going out to dinner with Jody.”
“Jody?”
“Jody Hadland, my co-chair for the arts committee. She teaches at the high school.”
“Miss Hadland? The student teacher?” Memories flooded my mind and caused my heart to beat faster. We all have that first crush, the one that confirms those nagging suspicions about our own sexuality. For me, that crush was Miss Hadland.
“You had her when she was a student teacher? She never told me that,” Rory said.
“She probably doesn’t remember me.”
“Oh no, she does. She said you were one of her most talented students. I just didn’t know it was before she got hired full-time.”
“She really called me one of her best students?” The compliment sent a flush of warmth to my cheeks. I’d had her for two classes my senior year, and while they’d been my favorites, I’d spent both of them huddled quietly in the back corner trying not to get called on or caught staring at her legs.
“Yeah. She’s the one who suggested we have you back.”
Under other circumstances I would’ve been disappointed Rory wasn’t the driving force behind the award, but the fact that Miss Hadland remembered me enough to follow my career gave me a thrill I didn’t care to examine too closely.
“She’s made all the arrangements, which reminds me. I need to call my dean at the college tonight and make sure she remembers the assembly tomorrow.”
Rory continued to ramble, but I allowed my mind to wander. The city faded into suburbs, then to farmland, but the insecurities I’d expected to suffocate me were sublimated by the pleasant memories of my first and only schoolgirl crush. Miss Hadland had given me a peek at the type of woman I’d later come to recognize as my type, the perfect mix of smart and beautiful I still found irresistible.
*
Rory knocked on the door of my bedroom at five o’clock sharp. I felt weird staying at her farmhouse on the edge of town. We’d never been friends in high school. She was older and infinitely cooler. I’d known Beth a little better, but while she was friendly with the whole town, we’d never actually been friends. Maybe I should’ve opted to stay in a hotel, but there wasn’t really one in town, just a motel, and maybe even that term was too generous for the set of rooms for rent in a concrete building by the railroad tracks. Rory and Beth’s home clearly offered the better option, even if the setup meant more social contact than I would’ve preferred.
“Hey, we need to get going soon, but I wanted to make sure you have everything you need.”
Beth had left out two extra blankets, two extra pillows, three towels, two washcloths, and enough magazines to fill a dentist’s waiting room. I held up one of the bottles of water I’d found on the bedside table. “I’m sure I could survive the zombie apocalypse in here.”
Rory laughed, shaking a wisp of chestnut-colored hair from her forehead. “Beth is nothing if not a diligent hostess.”
“She’s great and so are you. Thanks for putting me up. I hope I’m not too much of a bother.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve been here over two hours and we haven’t even heard you yet. The cat has made more noise than you have.”
I’d hidden in my room with the dual purpose of passing the time calmly and staying out of Rory and Beth’s way, but maybe I’d been unintentionally rude. I should’ve napped. I tried, but everything felt too surreal, so I settled for some quiet time staring out the window at a vast, vacant cornfield. Should I have stayed downstairs and chatted with my hosts? I already feared my ability to make small talk during dinner tonight, and breakfast tomorrow, and at the awards assembly. I hadn’t planned on downtime too.
“Are you nervous about tonight?” Rory asked casually, but I clearly read the concern in her expressive eyes. Her worry amplified my own.
“Um, no, I mean maybe a little, but I—”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. My first week back in town I didn’t leave my room once. I wouldn’t even go to the grocery store until Beth dragged me there.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry. I’ll go to dinner of my own free will. I’ve got nothing against Darlington. It’s just fine by me. Not the place for me to live, but who am I to judge, right?”
“Good for you. It took me months to leave the past in the past and start to move forward,” Rory said. “You’re a much stronger woman than I.”
“Not at all.” If I’d been strong in the face of my publicist I wouldn’t even be here now. “You had a lot more to overcome. I’ve never had a hard time letting go of the past because it never mattered in the first place. I guess I’ve just been lucky that way.”
Rory’s expression turned introspective, causing her dimples to fade.
“What?”
“Oh, I don’t know. My past was certainly complicated, but even the bad parts helped make me who I am. Without facing those struggles I wouldn’t have learned the things I learned about myself, about the people I love. I wouldn’t trade any of it.”
Damn, I admired her. We’d been raised in the same town, gone to the same schools, chosen similar career paths, and we were both gay. How had she turned out so strong, so reflective, so self-assured? Then again she’d always been that way. A born leader. I, on the other hand, had wallflower written all over my DNA. “We’re really different people.”
Rory slung one arm around my shoulder and said, “Maybe, but we’ve both ended up in the same place tonight, and who knows where we’ll go from here.”
*
“Rory! Stevie!” Edmond burst into the restaurant, and his presence in Darlington accosted my senses like the stiff February wind blowing through the still-open door. Rory immediately jumped into his embrace while I took an involuntary step back. Reaching out with one arm, he caught me by the shoulder and pulled me into an awkward group hug. “Look at this, both my little Midwest lezzies together in the spot where it all began. I’m so proud.”
He released me just far enough to hold me at arm’s length, the bright paisley pattern of his shirt dizzying me into submission. “How are you holding up, cupcake?”
“I’m fine,” I said, mortified, then in an attempt to preempt any more embarrassing questions added, “Everything’s great.”
“Damn right. This is a Kodak moment.” He pulled a camera out of the pocket of his skinny jeans but gave me little time to wonder how he’d squeezed himself into pants that tight, much less added a camera before he handed it to an attractive man just stepping in from the cold. “Get a picture of us all together, babe?”
I had no time to protest before he’d rearranged himself between Rory and me so we all faced the camera. I summoned my photo smile automatically, and the flashbulb temporarily blinded me. Everything happened so fast. I barely had time to consider what this blur of activity would look like to the other restaurant patrons, but as Edmond turned his attention to Beth, simultaneously hugging her and complimenting her hair, I took the chance to glance around.
The Highlands was the nicest restaurant in Darlington, which was about like saying it was the biggest shrimp in a salad. The carpet, a small step above the indoor/outdoor variety, reminded me of a patio or putting green. The tablecloths shone a shade off from white under the fluorescent light, and the walls held paintings of woodsy scenes or placid lakes. The dinner crowd leaned toward the older side of fifty, and while some glanced our way, most of them seemed perfectly content to focus on the huge slabs of meat or piles of carbs on their plates. Best of all, I didn’t see anyone who appeared to recognize me. The longer I lasted without having to chat with some casual acquaintance of my parents, the better.
“Apparently if I wait for my darling boyfriend to make introductions, I’ll be standing here all night.” The man who’d taken our picture extended his hand. “So, hi. I’m Miles.”
Very handsome and only slightly less polished than Edmond, he wore a less garish blue oxford shirt and standard gray slacks, but both were fashionable and fit like they were made for him. “I’m Stevie.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Edmond talks about you all the time.”
I glanced over at Edmond in time to see Rory give him a playful shove and felt a stab of envy at their easy camaraderie. “I’m sorry. He’s probably exasperated with me on a regular basis.”
“Not at all. He admires you, and yes, sometimes he wishes you’d cooperate more, but only because he’s so proud of you and wants to show you off.”
I didn’t know what to say, or if I should even try to say anything around the little catch of emotion in my throat. Miles had no reason to lie. Then again, maybe he simply loved Edmond and wanted to play the role of supportive business spouse. Still, I appreciated his attempt to include me, and his kind brown eyes soothed my insecurities. “Thank you.”
A young hostess led us to a large table in the back corner of the restaurant. While still in the main dining room, the position shielded us a little from the other patrons, and I dared to hope I could pass the evening without drawing any attention to myself. I’d have to make plenty of small talk at the awards ceremony, but why deal with today what I could put off until tomorrow? At least at dinner I knew everyone and how they related to each other. I allowed myself to relax a little in my seat next to Miles and across from Beth while Rory and Edmond chatted easily about news from Chicago. Perhaps this evening out in Darlington could be like any other night out with a group of friends. After all, we were in the Midwest, where people weren’t prone to scenes or drama. Though pettiness and gossip always flowed in the undercurrents of small towns, stoicism reigned here, and unlike in New York City, politeness generally overruled curiosity.
The waitress brought menus and water, conversations went on amicably around me, and I contented myself to wonder if the subtle highlights in Miles’s hair were natural or if he had a truly gifted stylist.
Then, from across the room, a woman drew my attention. To the casual observer she would’ve merely been another patron entering a busy restaurant on a weeknight. There was nothing unusual about the way she smoothed her hair, so blond it was almost white, as she untangled the delicate strands from the scarf she slowly unwrapped from her neck. No one would likely note anything out of the ordinary in the way her long camel coat hung open down the front, revealing a green V-neck sweater and khaki dress slacks. And nothing stood out about the pink flush that tinged her pale skin either from the cold or excitement. No one else in the room even seemed to notice her arrival or the fact that I seemed to have captivated her attention in the same consuming way she had mine.
She appeared to realize she’d been caught staring the same moment I did, and we both looked away, then immediately back at one another before grinning sheepishly. As she threaded a path between tables and waitresses carrying trays laden with food, I rose to greet her. Stepping forward to initiate a social interaction for the first time all day, I extended my hand while she was still several steps away. “Hi, I’m not sure if you recognize me, but—”
“Stevie. Of course I recognize you. Even if your pictures weren’t on the back of your books, I’d still know you anywhere. Welcome home.”
I tried not to grimace. I didn’t consider Darlington home, though I didn’t think of New York that way either. The concept of home eluded me, but then again at the moment everything eluded me. Everything but the dazzling blue of her eyes.
My eyes are blue, but not at all like hers, not so engaging or so complicated a mix of shades and hues, and not with the pure lightness that shone through them. My writer’s brain searched fruitlessly for a natural comparison—the Colorado sky? a sun-soaked sea? a robin’s egg? They all fell short, and I was staring again.
“It’s very nice to see you, Miss Hadland,” I finally managed to say. Then I just couldn’t help myself from asking, “It’s still Miss Hadland, right?”
She smiled a sweet but knowing smile. “Only to my students. Please call me Jody.”
“Classroom habits die hard.”
“Really? It’s been over ten years. Surely you don’t still think of all your teachers as perpetually in a position of authority?”
“No, honestly I don’t think of most of my teachers at all, much less as having authority in my life, but you never had any heavy authority to begin with. Student teachers rank below substitutes in the high-school food chain.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I’m glad to know I left such a strong impression.”
“No, I didn’t mean that.” It was hard to make myself clear with my foot in my mouth and my head full of clouds. “I meant to say I’ll always think of you as a teacher because you were such a good one.”
Jody’s smile grew from one of politeness to genuine pleasure. “Nice recovery.”
“I mean it. Your theater class my senior year is still my favorite of all the classes I’ve ever taken, even in college.”
“Really? Why have I never seen you on a stage then?”
“Oh, me? Never.” I hoped my nausea didn’t show. “Exposing myself on paper is nerve-racking enough. I could never lay myself bare in front of an audience. But I pulled heavily from your teachings while writing my play.”
“You’ve written a play?”
“I have…I mean it’s still unproduced. It’s not much really, just a first attempt.”
“Damn it, Stevie, stop doing that,” Edmond called loudly from the other end of the table. Both Jody and I turned toward him. I’d forgotten he was there, which is exceedingly hard to do with Edmond. “Her play is amazing. It’s very Wendy Wasserstein mixed with…I don’t know…some other smart, independent woman. And even if it wasn’t, we’re trying to sell the rights, Stevie, so telling people it’s ‘not much’ isn’t helpful.”
“Right. I’m not good at publicity,” I said, embarrassed both to be caught entranced by Jody and to be called out publicly. “This is Edmond, by the way, my booking agent, publicist, and the all-around boss of me.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jody,” Edmond said graciously. “Now sit down and tell me lots of embarrassing high-school stories about Stevie so I have something to blackmail her with the next time she won’t listen to me.”
Jody looked at me expectantly, clearly deferring her decision to my wishes. I wanted her to sit by me more than I’d wanted anything in a long time, but I wouldn’t overrule the loudest person at the table. Suddenly I wasn’t grateful to him for keeping the conversation going. I wanted him to stay out of it altogether, but I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t just stand there either. Everyone stared at me now. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m sure you two have a lot in common. You should get to know each other.”
Jody’s smile faded back into one of courtesy, and I watched in disappointment as she acquiesced and took the seat next to him. It was for the best. They probably did have a lot in common, and he’d have no trouble holding up his end of the conversation.
As I returned to my place and tried to steady my buzzing nerves, I caught a look of understanding, perhaps tinged with amusement, pass between Beth and Rory. Had I been too obvious in my favorable appraisal of Jody? I wasn’t surprised my admiration showed through. I’d meant everything I’d said about her influences on my work. She’d introduced me to theater, helped foster a love of literature, and taught me the true power of language. She deserved praise, but she didn’t deserve to be ogled by a grown woman as if I were a cross between a love-struck schoolboy and a salivating animal. So much for going unnoticed. Of all the ways I’d considered embarrassing myself, revealing a crush on a former teacher hadn’t been one of them.
I was leaving in less than thirty hours and couldn’t imagine returning to Darlington in the foreseeable future, but for some reason that fact seemed less comforting than it had in the past. At least my embarrassment would be short-lived, but I also felt a subtle pang of regret that I likely wouldn’t get another chance to talk with Jody.
*
Dinner passed easily enough. Edmond and Rory took turns holding court from their end of the table while Beth and Miles made cheerful conversation at ours, occasionally stopping to ask my opinion or explain an inside joke. They never left me out, but I had plenty of time to steal little glances at Jody. I couldn’t say she hadn’t aged in the last decade, but the signs of time were minimal. If I didn’t know she had a few years on me, I would’ve placed her in her mid-twenties. Something about her face…maybe the slight upturn at the end of her slender nose, or the sparkle in her eyes, or the way her grin hinted at something mischievous just often enough to catch me off guard. But whatever the cause, she carried an air of perpetual youth.
I pulled my gaze away to see Beth eyeing me sympathetically. Could everyone in the room tell I hadn’t been on a date in three months?
“We’d better call it a night,” Miles said, pushing back from the table. We’ve got some work to do at the house if we’re going to get it on the market this spring.”
“You have a house here?” I asked, eager for a diversion.
“Yes, I worked at the college until about two months ago, when I transferred to the admissions office at DePaul University.” He smiled sweetly. “I wanted to be closer to Edmond.”
“We miss him terribly,” Beth said. “And we hold Edmond personally responsible for cutting our gay and lesbian group by one fifth.”
“It’s not my fault you had only five gays in the village,” Edmond teased her. “Surely you could recruit some more.”
The table went quiet, and Jody seemed suddenly interested in folding her napkin until Edmond realized even though he was among friends, Darlington wasn’t the best place to publicly joke about recruitment, especially with teachers at the table. Despite the fact that Rory and Beth had clearly been granted some level of acceptance, wariness and a level of caution permeated my senses here. That awareness of my surroundings had been born from years of watching, testing, and observing what types of behaviors were rewarded, which were tolerated, and which were met with rebuke, silent or otherwise. Those lessons had guided me through my youth and stayed with me always. Rory, on the other hand, seemed quicker to move on as she rose and extended her arm to Edmond, saying, “Ladies, shall we adjourn?”
“We shall,” Edmond answered cheerfully and, looping his arm through hers, headed toward the parking lot.
We all said good-bye to Edmond, who hugged me again, and to Miles, who thankfully did not, but as we turned to go, Jody lingered.
“So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked, wishing I’d come up with something more impressive or charming or at least a question I didn’t already know the answer to.
“Yes, of course. I look forward to it, but I won’t be free before the assembly. I have a class until ten o’clock, and after that we won’t have much time to do anything but lead you to the stage.”
I didn’t know what bothered me more, the thought of the stage or the reminder I wouldn’t get another chance to talk with her. Say something, anything. My brain begged my mouth to keep the conversation going, but I managed only to say, “It’s okay, I understand.”
Jody nodded. “So you have everything you need for tomorrow?”
“Yes.” I started to back away. Who was I kidding, wishing for more time with her? I’d likely make a fool of myself, and on the off chance I didn’t, what would it matter? I’d be around for only twenty-six more hours. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, thanks.”
I took another step back and bumped into Beth. She steadied me with a gentle hand on my shoulder before saying, “I’m sure you’re tired, but it might be better for you two to run by the high school tonight. You know, to go over the itinerary and walk through the setup for the assembly.”
“Honey,” Rory interjected. “They’re both professionals. I’m sure they don’t need a dry run on something this straightforward.”
“I didn’t mean to imply they couldn’t handle it,” Beth said, her tone understanding but her gaze purposefully angling from Rory back to me. “But not everyone loves to just jump up on the stage. Having all the information ahead of time might put their minds at ease.”
“Well, I don’t want to keep Stevie out too late, but it might not be a bad idea to check things out tonight. If we do need to make any changes, tomorrow will be too late,” Jody said tentatively, her smile shy but hopeful as she turned to address me directly. “That is, if Stevie doesn’t mind.”
“No, it’s fine with me.” I might have been tired, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I lost another chance to talk to Jody.
“Good,” Beth said. “It’s best to be prepared.”
Rory wrapped her arm around Beth’s waist and kissed her quickly on the temple. “That’s my little librarian for you. Why don’t we just follow you to the school, Jody?”
“We don’t need to go.” Beth subtly steered Rory toward their car. “I’m sure Jody can handle things.”
“We’re Stevie’s ride,” Rory said.
“Jody can drop her off when they are done. Can’t you, Jody?”
“Sure.” Jody’s voice carried a hint of the awareness that warmed my cheeks even in the cold February evening. Beth had arranged for us to be alone together. Why didn’t it surprise me that the darling of Darlington liked to play matchmaker? I didn’t know if I should trip her or hug her, so instead I shrugged my acceptance.
*
Jody unlocked the front door to the high school and flipped on the lights. The main hallway flashed into view, causing the memories to surge so strong and swift I took a step back. Fluorescent glow ricocheted off every surface, from the tile floor to the gleaming red lockers and out through the double panes of glass lining the front office. I took a deep breath to steady myself, only to be accosted by the smell of institutional cleaning supplies and the lingering scent of cafeteria food. The combination reminded me of a hospital, but without the acrid tinge of antiseptic. This smell hung heavier in the air, and not nearly as sharp, like years of closed doors and body heat had worn off all the edges.
Jody led me through the main corridor. I trailed behind, firmly holding a mental lock on sentimentality and nostalgia. I stayed close to the wall, close enough to run my hand along the lone red stripe about halfway up. Had someone decided, in a last-second attempt to break the monotony of white, that this minor accent of the school color would make the place seem more cheerful? It didn’t. Red ink rarely symbolized good things, especially in a high school.
Jody stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her blue eyes questioning but her smile hopeful. “How’s it feel to be back?”
“Good,” I lied. I didn’t feel anything. I wouldn’t let myself.
“Really? You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“Do I? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Relax, it’s fine.” She reached out as if she intended to touch me but then thought better of it. “It’d be weird to come back after so long. You’re allowed to be a little freaked-out.”
“Am I?” I sighed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I don’t have fond memories of this place. High school wasn’t the proverbial best time of my life, but I don’t have the animosity Rory did. I don’t carry any anger. High school was just something I had to do, like paying my light bill or, I don’t know, flossing.”
Jody threw back her head and laughed, a beautiful sound rolling out in an octave higher than the tone she spoke in and fading into a silent bounce of her shoulders. “I’ve been here over a decade, and I’ve never heard anyone equate their experience to a four-year teeth cleaning.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to denigrate your life’s work. Sometimes words just come out before I think them through, which is why I generally try to keep my mouth shut.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re funny, and right about the flossing analogy. School isn’t fun all the time. It can be tedious, but it should never be painful. And ultimately, diligence in your studies keeps important parts of yourself from rotting away. You’ve always had a way with words.”
“Really? I feel like my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth most of the time.”
“You never spoke excessively, but when you did, or more noticeably when you wrote, you had an economy of language and precision of vocabulary far beyond your age. You’ve refined those skills throughout your career, but I saw the seed of that talent even when you were in my class.”
Pride pressed at my chest as I let the compliment sink in. I didn’t know what to say, but maybe I didn’t have to say anything, since Jody had obviously seen something to like in me, tongue-tied and all.
She opened the gym door and lifted a series of switches. Each one triggered a heavy metallic thump from the old rafters and a gentle buzz of electricity as the overhead lights slowly stirred to life.
The space seemed hollow and darkly cavernous in the early stages of illumination. Once again the smell hit first. It had the same base of cleaning products, but instead of food, the overarching scent here was sweat and scuffed rubber. The memories pushed at the back of my mind harder this time, the far-off echoes of shoes squeaking as they shuffled across the floor and the clamor of a ball hitting the backboard or bouncing off a rim. I felt rustling of fabric, the press of bodies settling into metal folding chairs, the strain of a band—without the members who now wore mortarboards—striking up “Pomp and Circumstance.”
“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” I asked, slamming those sensory doors to the past.
“Well, like I said, I’ve got a class right before the assembly, so Rory will bring you to the school. You guys can wait in the locker room if you want to avoid the crowd.” I must have grimaced because Jody stopped. “What’s wrong?”
“Probably nothing.” I blushed. “But can you maybe find some more appropriate place to put two out lesbians than a high-school-girls’ locker room?”
Jody stared at me wide-eyed for a second before letting her laughter flow freely again. “Right. Maybe the balcony would be more comfortable.”
“I think so. Go on.”
“When I get out of class, I’ll come meet you, and we’ll go to the stage.” She indicated a worn-out blue platform in the middle of the gym with several chairs and a podium. “You’ll sit with me and Rory and the dean of Bramble College. I’ll say a few words about your time as a student, and Rory will talk about your current work. Then we’ll call you up to give you the award.”
“That’s very nice of you,” I said. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
Jody eyes sparkled with amusement. “You don’t have to give an acceptance speech now, or at all really.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t intend to. It just occurred to me that I never thanked you, for the award, or keeping up with my writing, or even remembering me. It’s all very unexpected.”
“Really?” Jody seemed genuinely confused.
“Sure. I mean how many students have you had in the last decade?”
“Hundreds.”
“Why should I stand out? I wasn’t vocal or athletic or particularly involved. I wasn’t even in the top ten percent of my class academically. And I haven’t been around since then. I’m not one of those people who come to reunions or homecoming.”
“And why’s that?”
“I don’t have any glory days to relive.”
“But why?” Jody was pushing me. “You’re smart and successful. You’ve made a name for yourself. And from what limited time I had you as a student, I could tell both your mind and your sense of humor were sharp, but you keep everything to yourself, then and now.”
I sat down in the first row of the bleachers. “I don’t expect you to understand. You probably flew through high school.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re beautiful and blonde and smart and outgoing and funny…”
Her face turned red, causing me to realize I’d just showered her in compliments.
Did she think I was coming on to her?
Was I?
“Is that how you saw me? How you see me?”
I could lie. I could rein in the embarrassing emotional response I’d let slip out, but instead I surprised even myself by plunging on. “Of course. I admired you so much as a student teacher. You were only a few years older than most of the class, but you had it all together. You struck me as one of those people who always knew the right thing to do.”
“Oh, Stevie.” She sighed and sat down beside me. “Part of me is relieved to hear I fooled everyone, but it’s not fair to let you believe a lie. Student teaching was a horrible time for me. I was wracked with doubt about every decision I made. The pressure got so bad I almost quit.”
“What? Why?”
“I didn’t know what I was doing in the classroom. Mr. Owens offered no help. I felt constantly judged by the students and the other teachers, and all the time I battled panic-attack-inducing memories of my own high-school experiences.”
This news shocked me. If I couldn’t see the anguish in her eyes, I would’ve accused her of acting. “I thought people became teachers because they loved school and didn’t want to leave.”
“The opposite was true for me. I loved the course work. I loved to read and the school musicals and plays, but those were my escape, my refuge. The hallways terrified me. The cliques and backbiting made me sick. Literally—I got an ulcer at sixteen. I wallowed at the bottom of the social food chain.”
“But why? You’re smart and funny and attractive.”
Her eyes watered with emotion. “You’re the only one who saw me that way. I’m short and scrawny, a book nerd and a theater geek. I never wore the trendy clothes, and I never swooned over the boys.”
Things fell into place. “Did people know you were gay?”
“Most of them just knew I was different, and they threw a lot of names and slurs my way. Some of them happened to fit, but in the late nineties, Oquendo, Illinois wasn’t a hotbed of gay culture, so homosexuality wasn’t on most people’s radar. I didn’t even know for sure I was gay until I went to college.”
“But you did know during student teaching, and you understood what high schools were like. You understood how bad they could be. Why choose such a hard career path? And why choose Darlington?”
“I grew up not far from here. I know what these kids’ lives are like. The name-calling, the bullying, the backstabbing almost crushed me, and no one even noticed. The teachers were too busy to care, or even worse, they played along. It was every person for herself. Having to face the torment alone was the worst part.” Her shoulders sagged under the invisible weight of those memories. I could almost see a cloud of desperation settle over us until she sat up and lifted her chin. “I swore if I became a teacher I’d do better for my students. I could offer them a little shelter. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could make a small-town high school celebrate differences, but even if I couldn’t stop the rising tide of hate, I could weather the storm with them. I could let them know they didn’t have to struggle alone.”
I got a chill. This was the stuff legendary teachers were made of. How many lives had she saved? But at what personal cost?
“You probably think I’m crazy.”
“No. You’re amazing, inspiring. Maybe if I’d had four years with you as a teacher I’d be a completely different person today. You’ve sacrificed so much for your students. I just wonder what kind of toll all that work has taken on you.”
She brushed off my concern. “I haven’t given up much, and what I have, they’ve given back tenfold.”
“What about the toll the closet takes on your identity and your personal life?”
She rolled her head from side to side slowly, as if trying to release some pent-up tension as she considered the question. I got the urge to massage her shoulders, to run my thumbs down the soft skin along the graceful curve of her neck. Instead I clasped my hands together tightly in my lap.
“I’m out to my parents, my brother, Rory and Beth. I don’t deny anything when asked outright, and people who are sensitive to these things, people who are looking and know what to look for can always tell.”
I’d realized from the first time I’d seen her that we shared the undeniable connection neither of us would’ve dared speak but both clearly understood. Could the unspoken sustain someone forever? “Don’t you want to come out on a wider scale? Don’t get me wrong, I’m no flag waver, but I enjoy the freedom of being able to write without censorship. Or date openly, even if it doesn’t happen often.”
“I won’t say it’s not hard at times, but not because of my own desires. It’s all the small-mindedness I encounter in my students, and more frequently my colleagues, that hurts most. When people make a fag joke or say ‘that’s so gay,’ I’d like to say, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m gay and I’ve made a good life here.’” She shrugged again, pushing on with less passion and more reason. “But if I were out I’d be seen as pushing a personal agenda rather than standing up against bigotry. I’m in a better position right now by staying closeted.”
“I admire you, really, but I couldn’t do it. I paid my dues to get out and live my own life. It’s hard enough to have strangers judge my work. The thought of putting my whole life out there for scrutiny all the time would paralyze me.” I shivered. “I might never leave my bed in the morning.”
“Some days I feel that way. For all my talk about making sure students know they aren’t alone, my own life can get pretty solitary.”
“Do you date?” I asked, torn between wishing the best for her and not wanting to think about some lucky woman who got to hold her at the end of a long day.
“Not often.” She looked around the gym. “Even if I did have a chance to meet women, this is a lot to compete with. The strain of my job often crushes possibilities before they have a chance to blossom.”
“It must be hard to feel romantic while looking over your shoulder.”
“I still live in Oquendo, which gives me a half hour to unwind at the end of the day and keeps students from just driving by my house to see when I’m home.” The resignation hung heavy in her voice and slowed her words. “But I’m here several nights a week working on the school play or conferencing with parents. Even when I go to St. Louis to get away, I’m always running into a former student or someone from town. Some times are better than others, but you’re right. I can never fully relax.”
I hated to think of her tense all the time, constantly worried about how she might misstep. Then again, I was no stranger to the consequences of social pressure. Maybe we carried similar baggage, just for different reasons.
“You know,” Jody said softly as she stared across the gym. “My biggest worry isn’t that I’ll never meet the right person. It’s that I won’t be able to recognize her through all the smoke and mirrors I’ve built up around myself.”
I didn’t know what to say. Jody’s confession caused a deep ache to settle in my chest. I wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything would be all right, to say she was amazing and doing the right thing, and when the time came, all the walls she’d constructed would fall. But how could I alleviate her fears when I shared them? I liked to think if the right woman came along I’d be able to risk anything for her, but the walls I’d erected had never faced a serious test, and they’d been built on a much less noble foundation than Jody’s.
“I’m sorry.” Jody stood. “I didn’t mean to keep you out so late, and I certainly didn’t mean to dump all my insecurities on you. I’ve been a terrible host and an all-around conversation killer.”
“No, please don’t say that.” I rushed to assure her. “This is honestly the best night I’ve had in a long time.”
“Wow, you don’t get out much, do you?”
I laughed. “No, I really don’t, but that’s beside the point. I’ve enjoyed talking to you. I wish we had more time.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes.” I could hardly believe I’d not only said that, but meant it. I had twenty-four hours left until I landed back in New York, and that thought still comforted me, but I wished Jody wouldn’t be a thousand miles away.
“Thank you, but I’d better get you back to Beth and Rory’s before they start to worry.”
I checked my watch. Ten o’clock. Where had the time gone? Beth and Rory would no doubt wonder what we’d been doing, but I suspected hope would be their dominant emotion rather than worry.
Back in Jody’s car, I watched the few lights left on along Main Street fade behind us. The stars were much clearer here than in the city, so I stared at them even though I really wanted to stare at Jody. “Do you ever think about leaving? I mean I know the kids need you, but there are a lot of kids in need in a lot of places.”
“I don’t rule anything out. I don’t know if I want to teach in Darlington forever, but if I decided to leave, it wouldn’t be because I got tired or gave up.” She pulled into the long gravel driveway of Beth and Rory’s farmhouse, then killed the engine. “I won’t run from anything, but some days I do wonder what it would feel like to run toward something or someone.”
The words caught in my throat, the emotion behind them so raw and achingly beautiful. I should’ve kissed her. She was so close and so beautiful there in the starlight. I should have leaned in and taken her soft, pink lips with my own. I should have run my fingers along the smooth skin of her cheek and through her light strands of hair until I cupped the back of her head, holding her loosely but passionately against me.
What I should not have done is thank her for the ride and tell her I’d see her tomorrow, then fumble my way out of the seat belt and make an awkward retreat to the house. Yet that’s exactly what I did.
At least I’d given myself plenty to obsess about while I lay awake all night.