Chapter Twelve

Dane tapped lightly on Clarissa’s door and then opened it. “Punkin?”

She didn’t look up. She had her earbuds plugged in, and her phone was next to her on the pillow, probably blasting out the latest Maroon 5 love song. She had her iPad open on her lap, and her fingers were flying over its surface. He cleared his throat and repeated himself. She glanced up, failing to hide the irritation on her face. She gave him a look that said “What?”

Dane looked down at the carpeting for a moment, trying to conceal his hurt. Since he had told her he was gay, she’d been distant, as if his revelation was a personal affront. Maybe it was. Maybe it was hard for her to get over her dad being a different man than she thought. But still, couldn’t she cut him a little break? At least try to understand? Try. That’s all he asked.

He stood there waiting, wringing his hands, in her bedroom doorway. Finally, she got the message and yanked the earbuds out. “I know. I know. It wasn’t a choice. You didn’t ask for any of this,” she said, parroting back to him the different ways he’d attempted to explain to her his new sense of self, his acceptance.

“You’re right, Clarissa.” He sighed. “But I wasn’t stopping by to tell you those things. I just wanted you to know I’m heading out for a couple of hours, and I might not make it home in time for supper. There’s deli ham and turkey, some swiss cheese, and that spelt bread you like in the fridge, so you guys can make sandwiches.” He grinned. “And salt and vinegar potato chips,” he added, like the snacks were pure gold.

“I hate those,” Clarissa snapped.

“Probably because the last time you had them, you ate a whole bag and then barfed.” Dane closed the door on his daughter before he could see her reaction. He felt bad, but he couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face.

He headed downstairs, where Joey was in front of the TV, watching Judge Judy. She was telling some poor abashed defendant not to pee on her leg and tell her it was raining.

“Judge Judy? Really? You like that show? I had no clue.” Judge Judy must be a recent development in his son’s viewing habits. Dane didn’t imagine teenage boys were the judge’s target audience.

“Yeah. She’s cool for an old lady. She tells it like it is. I like to watch her give these doofuses an earful. It tickles me.”

Dane chuckled. “Well, it’d be cool if you’d watch something a little better for your brain—”

Joey cut him off. “Dad, it’s training me to be an attorney.”

“All righty, then.” And Dane let it go. It did make a certain amount of sense. “Anyway, I’m heading out for a bit. Go ahead and eat if you’re hungry.” He repeated what was in the fridge and pantry, which made Joey pause the hatchet-faced judge in the middle of her latest diatribe and race for the kitchen.

Adolescent boys are so much easier. As Dane headed out the front door to meet Seth Wolcott for their first visit with Truman, he thought, Maybe not.

*

Seth waited outside the Reids’ little house for him. He had his nose buried in his Kindle and didn’t look up when Dane parked his car across the street. Dane pulled his key from the ignition and simply sat for a few moments regarding the young man across the street, telling him things he probably would never have the nerve to say in real life.

You are so good to be doing this. So many guys your age would be doing anything but. They’d be out living it up in a bar, or looking for hookups online, or whatever it is young gay men do these days. Dane found the prospect of Seth looking for hookups, either online or in the real world, was a depressing thought. Scratch that. He found the thought caused a completely irrational twinge of jealousy to emerge right there in his gut, where he could really feel it.

And he told himself, You have no right to feel jealous. My God, the kid is at least ten, maybe fifteen years younger than you. And besides, you don’t even know him. Not really. And another thing—you don’t need to be thinking about guys, not yet. Not when Joey and Clarissa are still struggling with the idea of a gay dad. Not when you’re still struggling with the idea of being gay yourself. Give yourself time. Maybe in ten, twenty years, you’ll be ready for a more physical thing. Dane chuckled at this last thought. And then another notion popped into his head. But he sure is cute.

As if he had heard Dane’s assessment, Seth looked over at him. Dane hurried to get out of the car for fear of having been caught staring. His scalp tingled and heat rose to his cheeks. He was thankful it was winter and already growing dusky so his blush would be hidden.

He hurried over to Seth, a big grin plastered on his face. “What’re you reading?”

“The Fault in Our Stars. I’m thinking about it for my college-prep lit class. Maybe next year.”

“Good book,” Dane said. “You ready for this?”

Seth’s smile wavered. “I don’t know. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Nothing would make me happier than helping this poor kid out, but I’m not all that confident about my ability to do so. You know?”

“I know. But I think you’re worrying too much about your lack of formal education. I know you have a good heart, and I think that counts for more than any degree.”

“So sayeth the man who’s been an educator for how many years?” Seth turned to follow Dane to the Reids’ front door.

“I’d rather not say,” Dane replied, hoping he didn’t sound too coy. Hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he wanted to minimize the difference in their ages.

Why should that matter?

Dane followed Seth up to the front door. He noticed how broad Seth’s shoulders were, how thick and curly his hair was, and—damn it—how high and tight his ass rode. He wondered for a moment what it would feel like to bury his fingers in those curls. Or, better, to grab a handful of that ass and squeeze until the poor guy yelped. These are not appropriate thoughts at all! Shame on you!

So he said, to change the subject, “I didn’t realize they were this bad off.” The house looked like something a strong gust of wind or a rise of the Ohio River’s current, a block away, could sweep off its foundation. The house seemed exhausted, as though it could collapse on itself back into the earth—with relief. He frowned as he saw how Patsy, or maybe Truman, had made an effort to block out winter’s chill by tacking old dry cleaning bags across the windows for insulation. He noticed how the paint on the trim peeled, revealing rotting wood underneath. Patsy, or maybe Truman, had tried to perk up the gray and depressing exterior with a little plastic pot of fake red geraniums near the front door. The effect was heart-wrenching.

The thought “poor Truman” had never been more literal.

But when Patsy flung open the front door, she couldn’t have been more in contrast with the house’s run-down exterior. She was vibrant, smiling, alive. Dane thought once again how young she looked—she could pass for early twenties. This afternoon she had on a pair of old jeans, ripped at the knees, and an oversized Ohio State sweatshirt hoodie, scarlet and gray. She was barefoot and looked like a child.

“Hey there,” Dane called out, hurrying to catch up with Seth.

“Come on in, guys. I’m so glad you could make it. Truman will be too.”

After they were settled in the cramped living room, Patsy closed the front door behind them. The place smelled like cooking grease and wet dog. Dane hoped it was something Truman and Patsy had gotten used to. The living room was a collection of mismatched thrift store furniture representing the 1970s and 1980s in particular. There was a teal vinyl-covered couch and matching recliner. Dime store framed floral prints decorated the walls, while along the top of a low bookshelf was arranged a row of framed photographs. They were all of Truman—a chronicle of his life from what looked like the day he was born practically up until today.

The TV was one of those with the picture tube in the back, and it looked big, black, and boxy. It was a relic to Dane, like those old refrigerators with the motors on top. At least it wasn’t on.

“Take a seat. Can I get you somethin’? I just made a pot of coffee.”

“That sounds great,” Seth said. He sat on the couch.

Dane took the recliner.

Patsy called from the kitchen, “Truman’ll be right back. He’s taking Odd Thomas out for his after-supper walk.”

“Odd Thomas?” Seth wondered. “After the Dean Koontz character?”

Dane nodded, but Patsy didn’t say anything. They listened as she brought mugs down from the cupboard and poured coffee. “You guys like sugar? Cream? I got Coffee-mate.”

“Just black for me,” Dane said.

“I’ll take lots of both,” Seth said and grinned at Dane. He winked. “I like my coffee like I like my men.”

“White?” Dane asked, horrified.

“No, silly! I meant sweet.” He reached out to nudge Dane’s foot with his own.

Patsy came in holding two steaming mugs aloft. Dane recognized the Fiestaware; he had the same stuff in his own home. The pottery was just down the river, so almost everyone around here owned at least some Fiesta.

“That smells good.” Dane accepted a mug from Patsy.

Once they were settled, Patsy said, “Truman’s doing a lot better.”

“Really?” Seth took a sip of his coffee. It must have pleased him because he smiled.

“Really. Him and me, we had a long talk last night. He opened up.” Patsy smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t know that he got it from me, but my kid’s got a good head on his shoulders.” Her smile widened. “I really think he’s gonna be okay.”

Dane didn’t want to say that it was awfully soon after Truman’s suicide attempt to be so optimistic, but he hoped she was right.

“You’ll see when he gets back,” Patsy said. “Sometimes just talking things out can help us see what we need, that things aren’t as awful as we think.”

Dane felt a pang. He wished that were true with Clarissa.

“Here he comes,” Patsy said, excitement rising in her voice, as though this was a surprise party.

Dane looked up to see Truman’s silhouette through the sheer curtains. A little dog trotted along ahead of him.

Patsy stood. “Damn that kid. If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a thousand times, ‘Don’t let Odd off the leash,’ but do you think he listens?” She turned back to them, Dane supposed, for support. “That dog’s gonna get run over by a car if Truman’s not careful!”

Seth just shrugged and said, “Kids.”

Truman came inside, bringing with him a gust of bitter, almost Arctic wind. The little dog, Odd, rushed into the room. He circled around, almost chasing his own tail, yapping joyously. Then he got busy sniffing both men, pointed nose going from crotch to crotch.

Patsy raised her eyebrows. “See? Odd fits, don’t it? Weirdest looking—and acting—dog I ever saw.”

Seth laughed.

Dane patted his lap. “Come here, boy!”

Odd jumped into Dane’s lap, licked his face, and finally settled in for whatever attention he could get. Dane began rubbing him behind the ears and petting him. If he stopped, the dog would nudge Dane’s hand with his nose to get him to continue. The dog’s presence made him remember talking with Katy last fall about getting the kids a puppy for Christmas, a plan he’d never seemed to be able to follow through on. Now he thought maybe it would be a good idea, a way to help them bond again.

Patsy stood. “I gotta get ready for work, unfortunately. Dinner shift. This is fried chicken night—all you can eat—and we get swamped.” She sighed. “Great tips, though.” She left the room.

Odd hopped down unceremoniously from Dane’s lap and trotted after her. Dane watched the dog.

Truman said, “He’s fickle like that. But he’ll be back.”

Truman looked different here than he did at school. Bigger somehow. Tonight he had on a pair of skinny jeans and a paisley-print button-down shirt. Around his neck he wore a bright scarlet scarf that picked up some of the red in the shirt. Dane thought it was clothes like these that got Truman into trouble. Maybe they could talk about that at some point. Perhaps Dane could even buy him some regular Levi’s, a pair of sweatpants, a couple of T-shirts.

They were quiet for a while, and Dane thought it was because none of them knew what to say to break the ice. At least he didn’t.

Finally Seth set down his coffee on an end table and leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “So how are you doing, Truman? You feeling better?”

“Better than what?” Truman asked. He got up and went into the kitchen. They heard him rummaging around, doors opening and closing, the slap of the refrigerator as he shut it.

He returned with a bright orange Fiesta plate. On it he had laid out slices of American cheese and deli ham, cut into squares, and saltines. “A little somethin’,” he said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.” He set the plate on the coffee table, shoving a stack of People magazines over to make room.

The food was a distraction, Dane realized. But the three of them went at it with gusto, and in a few minutes, all that was left were crumbs.

Seth repeated his original question about how Truman was doing.

“Funny you should ask that,” said Truman. “It’s weird. A few days ago, if you’d told me I’d have a totally different outlook on life in general, I wouldn’t have believed you. But last night, after breaking down and telling my mom all my secrets, getting everything off my chest, I felt so much better.” He glanced over at Dane. “Remember when you said how we never know what’s coming? How we can’t predict anything from one day to the next?”

Dane nodded.

“You were right. I don’t know why, but just letting go and opening up a little was like lifting this weight even I didn’t know I was carrying around off my shoulders.”

Dane nodded again, wishing he had some wise words of encouragement and validation to add, but all he could think of was how what Truman said about getting a weight off one’s shoulders applied to him. Coming out—to both his kids and accidentally to the whole school—had let him breathe easier. And, except for Clarissa, the reaction had so far not been as big of a deal as he once imagined. The lack of interest from most people was almost disappointing.

Truman glanced down at the floor, rubbing at a cracker crumb in the shag carpeting with his bare toe. “The talking, and in this really weird way, the fool thing I did on the roof, really changed things.” He chuckled but then looked serious again. “That last part? Whew. Never would have thought trying such a shitty loser move would have actually somehow made me feel better. But it did.” He shrugged. “I guess it showed me how low I could sink and, more importantly, that people like you guys cared.”

“That’s great, Truman,” Seth said softly. Dane looked over at Seth and could read the admiration Seth had for the boy in his features.

Truman sighed. “Tomorrow I’m going back to school.”

He smiled again, but there was something so sad and wistful in that smile that Dane felt his heart clench.

“It’s easy to pretend things are all cool when I’m here at home with Mom and you guys. But it’ll be a whole ’nother story when I get back in the hallowed halls of good ole Summitville High.” He looked at both of them in turn and then back down at the floor.

Seth leaned forward. “We’ll be there, Truman. And no matter what, you can come to us for help any time you need it.”

Dane said, “He’s right. If anyone gives you a hard time, just let us know.”

Truman grinned, but there was something bitter in the expression, like a fly in a bowl of honey. “I appreciate that. But I can’t go running to you guys every time somebody calls me a fag or trips me in the hallway. Or punches me in the kidney in the lunch line.” He barked out a short laugh that brought Odd Thomas out from Patsy’s bedroom. “Oh yeah, all that and more have been part of the daily adventures of yours truly. Except now I don’t go to lunch, so that kind of shut down the lunch line torture.” He paused. “And I bet those guys really miss it.”

Dane could see that Truman really dreaded going back to school—and with good reason. He wished there was something more he could do, like getting him into a private school in Pittsburgh or something. But even if he did that by some miracle, who’s to say the teasing and the bullying would stop? It could just be the same script with different players, albeit more affluent ones. No, Dane knew, like he knew this fact for himself, that it wasn’t what was outside that needed the help; it was what was inside.

We can’t change the world—only our reaction to it. Truman needed to be strong, somehow, in his own self-worth to truly combat the fear and hatred he encountered far too often for a boy his age—for a person of any age, really.

Seth, of course, proved to be the wiser of the two of them, and he said what Dane was thinking. “Listen, buddy, when I first came out, I thought the whole world was gonna be against me. But you know what? It was incredibly freeing. For one thing, being honest showed me that not as many people as I thought were against me or, in fact, that they even cared. Most people, I think you’ll find, are too busy dealing with their own crap to be as concerned with yours as you might think.” He blew out a breath. “And the ones that had a problem with it? You know what I said to myself about them?”

Truman leaned forward, eager to know. Dane leaned forward too.

“I said, and you’ll pardon this and promise me you understand that I’d never say this in the classroom, but I said…” He paused for a moment, for effect maybe. “I said, ‘fuck ’em.’ If they couldn’t accept me or didn’t like me for who I was, for something that was really unchangeable and real about me, then fuck ’em. They didn’t deserve to know me. And their problem—which was being afraid, because really that’s what all hate’s rooted in—was not mine.” He sat back, presumably to let the words sink in.

Truman grinned. “That’s a great attitude. It’s easier said than done, though.”

Seth shook his head. “No. You can’t cop out like that. You can’t change anyone else. But you can change you.” Seth stood and lightly touched Truman’s chest with his finger. “You need to know, as I know your mom has told you and we’re here to tell you today, that you’re okay. There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. With. You. You have lots of great attributes, and I’m sure, just like everyone else on the planet, you have some bad characteristics. But just being who you are, who the Lord made, is not one of those bad characteristics. Bud, you need to hold your head up high, banish any shame, and let the world know you’re one of God’s children and they need to be okay with that. And if not?”

Truman said, “Fuck ’em.”

Both Dane and Seth couldn’t contain their smiles. And Dane couldn’t contain the feelings Seth stirred up inside. He was certain his fellow teacher had no idea Dane was soaking up his words like a sponge, appreciating them, absorbing them, filing them away for later, darker hours. Yes, this time was supposed to be for Truman and his healing, but there was nothing wrong, was there, if Dane got something out of it too? In many ways, he and Truman were on the same level, developmentally speaking.

“That’s right,” Seth said. “You’re a fast learner.”

“Putting it into practice, though, might be a little harder than it sounds.”

Seth nodded. “Don’t be so negative, kid. Yeah, you’re right. It’s not easy. What is? The teasing and the bullying won’t stop. But if you, slowly but surely, do change who you are and how you react to it, on the inside, you’ll be so much further ahead. Because once you love who you are, really love him, warts and all, the ‘slings and arrows of outrageous fortune’ become a lot easier to bear.”

“Shakespeare,” Truman murmured.

“Very good!” Seth cried. “What play, though?”

“Hamlet.” Truman grinned.

Seth nudged Dane. “This kid is going places.”

Dane nodded. He felt strange. He wanted, suddenly, to go off and be by himself, to think about the things Seth had said, to absorb them. He realized his own coming-out process wouldn’t be complete until he loved himself—and he didn’t know if he did, not yet. He carried around so much guilt about all the years he’d worn a mask and the secrets he’d kept from those who loved him. And then there was Katy—surprisingly Katy. She was no longer even with them, but he still experienced her presence. He just didn’t feel anything in regards to what she would think about him and the truth he’d kept concealed from her through all the years of their marriage.

“He sure is,” Dane forced himself to say. He realized he hadn’t been doing much to allay the boy’s pain, to make him more confident about facing that first day back at school, and thought that maybe now would be a good moment to offer the kid some advice, while at the same time forcing his mind away from himself and his own struggles. So he returned to a thought he’d had earlier and uttered something he thought would be helpful.

“And Truman? Can I give you some advice about when you return to school tomorrow? I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I want you to know I’m only saying this out of love and wanting you to fit in.”

He glanced over at Seth, whose eyebrows had come together questioningly.

“The way you dress? The pride T-shirts and—” Dane cut himself off to gesture up and down at Truman’s person. “—that getup you have on right now. They’re kind of screaming to the world you’re gay. And I think that makes you more vulnerable, more of a target. Now maybe if you just wore some jeans and a T-shirt, maybe some Chucks, you might not open yourself up to so much to bullying.” Dane smiled and tried to put caring and benevolence into the expression. Since that first day, when Truman had worn that “It Gets Better” T-shirt with its rainbow flag, Dane had thought the boy courted some of his own trouble.

He glanced over at Seth, expecting a smile or some words of agreement.

But he didn’t get what he expected.

What he got was an open-mouthed stare from Seth. Truman had shut down, and his gaze hovered somewhere above Dane’s head.

Had he said the wrong thing? He was just trying to help the boy fit in! Help him not stick out so much as a target. Was there something wrong with that?

Apparently there was. Seth didn’t say anything for a while, and when he did, he began with a glance at Dane, sending a weak smile in his direction. He scratched his head and soon turned back to Truman.

“Listen, Mr. Bernard here means well.”

He glanced nervously at Dane again, who wanted to ask “What did I say? What did I say?”

“But I have to disagree with him.” He smiled at Dane, begging with those incredible hazel eyes—for what? Forgiveness? Understanding? “See, Truman, being yourself is all about holding your head up and telling the world you’re proud of who you are. You shouldn’t hide that. You shouldn’t dress a certain way to fit in if it’s not you. You shouldn’t try to change the way you talk or the way you walk because you think it’ll make you less of a target and, I might add, just like everyone else.” He leaned close to Truman and put a hand on his knee. “You should celebrate who you are. Be proud of the differences. Now, I don’t like to deal in ‘shoulds,’ but that’s one I think bears saying. Who you are is unique. Special. Don’t hide it. Don’t dress it down because you think some narrow-minded fool doesn’t get you.”

Dane silently peered at his own clothes—his Oxford-cloth button-down, his khakis, and his Asics running shoes. “Should I dress differently?” he wondered, realizing too late he was speaking out loud. This wasn’t about him! But in a way it was, in more ways than Dane expected. Still, he shouldn’t be asking such things, not with Truman sitting between them. “Never mind,” he said quickly.

Dane looked to Seth and nodded. “Mr. Wolcott here is right. He’s absolutely right. Forget what I said. I’m still learning. Be yourself. Be proud.”

Dane didn’t really recall much of what else they said. He did know it was more of the same: encouragement, the speaking of support and of being available to Truman.

By the time they left, Dane felt oddly shaken.

*

Outside, Seth said, “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad.”

Night had fallen, and with it, the temperature had dipped. Dane shivered and rubbed his hands together, blew into them for warmth. “Oh, you didn’t.”

Seth put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, but I did.”

Dane stopped and stared at him. “Maybe a little. Is how I dress so bad?”

Seth laughed. “You know what? I think you missed my point. Gay people come in all different shapes and sizes. We all dress different ways. We like different movies, books, TV shows, music. Everyone who doesn’t know any gay people—or rather, think they don’t know gay people—wants to stereotype. Depending on who we are, they want to put us in drag, in leather, in flannel and work boots. You dress just fine for you.”

Seth looked him up and down, and in that look, which lasted so long it made Dane feel a little giddy, Dane read appreciation.

Or at least hoped he did.

His guess was confirmed when Seth finished up by saying, “You, sir, look just fine. Very fine. Just the way you are.”

They went quiet after that. Dane felt a little embarrassed. He’d never in his life known how to graciously take a compliment, and especially not one from another man. The guy he saw in the mirror every day was a big, lumbering oaf. Sort of the like a Lennie from Of Mice and Men, except a Lennie with brains and an English degree. That Seth saw something different was intriguing, scary, and—exciting.

“It’s fucking freezing out here. It must be in the single digits.” Seth’s gaze met Dane’s in the darkness, which had now fallen completely. “Do you wanna go grab a bite somewhere? The lunch meat, cheese, and crackers didn’t quite do it for me.”

Dane thought of his kids at home, eating lunchmeat and cheese, and wondered whether he should just beg off. He was torn. He knew that if he went home, Joey would still be glued to the TV, and Clarissa would most likely continue to pretend he didn’t exist. They probably both would have already made themselves something to eat. In fact, Joey was already tearing into the food when Dane left the house.

Or…he could go have dinner with this handsome young man who was asking him. Of course, it wasn’t a date, and Dane reminded himself that Seth was most likely simply hungry. We all have to eat…

“Why not?” Dane said. “Let me just call my kids.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and rang Joey’s cell. His son assured him that they’d eaten, homework had been done, and Joey was now watching an episode of Orange is the New Black on Netflix. Clarissa had gone to her friend Jerri Lynn’s house down the street, where she was once again spending the night. Dane couldn’t say anything about that—not now. But he could object to his twelve-year-old son’s viewing habits.

“I told you, Joey. You’re too young for that show.”

“Yeah, Dad. Whatever. I’ll turn it right off.”

“You’re not a very good liar, son.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

“I guess so. Try to find something a little more appropriate. There’s lots of alternatives.”

“Okay, Dad. Right away.”

“I’ll be home in a couple of hours. And if I see any women’s prisons on the TV when I get there, you’re going in the Special Housing Unit.” Dane knew his son would understand the reference to the SHU from the show.

He ended the call and smiled at Seth, who had begun to shiver. Snow danced in the streetlight behind his head. “You wanna just take one car?” Seth asked. “I can bring you back here once we’re done.”

“That’d be nice.”

Once they got in Seth’s car, a Nissan Leaf, Seth turned the heat on and the blower to high. Warmth was coming out in no time. Seth grinned. “Better?”

“Oh God, yes.”

“Where to?” Seth asked, putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb.

“Well, certainly not the Elite. It’ll be swamped on fried chicken night.”

“It’s that good?”

“It’s heaven. You’ll see. But not tonight.” He found himself wanting to take Seth someplace quieter, where they could actually talk and not have to shout to be heard.

“If you make a right up here at Etruria and then go up the hill, you’ll be in the part of the town we call the East End. There’s a little Italian joint there run by a local family. It’s only a bar and a row of booths, but the lasagna’s so good it will make you cry. Not to mention gain ten pounds.”

“Sounds perfect. And Dane? I don’t gain weight. My metabolism still thinks I’m an adolescent boy and burns everything right up. In fact, I’d love to be able to gain ten pounds.”

“I hate you,” Dane said softly, wondering if he’d be satisfied with the chopped salad they made at D’Angelo’s.

“What’s that?” Seth asked.

“I said I envy you. I’ll have to run five miles in the morning just to stay even.”

“You look great. I like a man with a little meat on his bones.”

Dane laughed. “Well, I have plenty of that! Meat, I mean.” He thought how dirty that sounded, and heat rose to his cheeks. He was glad it was dark in the car. Damn his fair complexion!

Seth didn’t say anything, but Dane could see he raised his eyebrows. Whatever that meant…

*

D’Angelo’s was, as Dane had hoped, quiet. There were a few men at the bar, nursing shot glasses or bottles of beer, watching an old episode of Mike and Molly on the TV above the bar. Only one of the four booths was occupied—by an elderly couple whom Dane recognized as the grandparents of one of his honor students last year, who’d gone on to Case Western Reserve University.

He was wondering if he could get away without stopping to talk to them. Harriet, he thought the woman’s name was, was a notorious talker. From past experience, Dane knew they’d be stuck for at least fifteen minutes at their table, and he wasn’t in the mood.

He wanted to be alone with Seth.

Just then Mary D’Angelo, who owned the place along with her husband, Sam, greeted them. She held a stack of menus and wore a black apron. Her gray hair was cut short.

“Hey, Dane! Just you and your friend tonight, honey?”

“Just us two, Mary. How you been?”

“Good. Good. Can’t say the same for Sam, though. He’s gotta have that back surgery they’ve been threatening for years. Goes in the hospital next week.” She led them to a booth that just happened to be before they’d pass the older couple’s table.

“Thank you, Mary.” And Dane really was thankful, in more ways than one. “You tell Sam to take care. I’ll keep him in my thoughts and prayers.”

“Aw, ain’t that sweet?” She waited for them both to sit and handed them menus. “Can I get you guys a beer to start? Maybe a glass of red?”

“Wine would be nice,” Seth said. “Chianti?”

“Is there another kind?” Mary asked and laughed. She regarded Seth, then shifted her gaze back to Dane. “Who’s your buddy?”

“Mary, this is Seth Wolcott. He just started at the high school this semester. Teaching English and theater.”

Mary smiled and nodded. “Well good luck, Seth…and welcome. I’ll get you your wine.” She hurried away.

Seth looked around the room, and Dane saw it through Seth’s eyes. Dane didn’t think he’d ever realized how cliché the place was, but also how romantic. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and the lighting was dim, cast by flickering candles in red glass holders on each table and the accent lighting behind the bar. Above them, the ceiling was patterned black tin. The floor was a well-worn checkerboard of black and white. The checkerboard theme continued—quite naturally—with the tablecloths, only these were red and white. The booth seating and bar stools were covered in black vinyl, which had the look and feel of leather. Frank Sinatra was singing over the bar’s speaker system, “Strangers in the Night.”

“This reminds me of a Billy Joel song,” Seth said. “You know the one.” He grinned.

Dane filled in, “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant.”

Seth nodded, his glee that Dane had picked up so easily on the musical reference apparent. He raised his eyebrows and offered, “Maybe we should get a bottle of red and a bottle of white.”

Dane chuckled. “You may be able to handle drinking like that on a school night, but I’d be on my ass.”

“And wouldn’t that be a sight?” Seth looked far away and said softly, “A very pretty sight.” He gave Dane an evil grin.

“You’re terrible, Mr. Wolcott.” Dane felt something akin to helium in his gut—giddy and scared all at once. Was the guy flirting with him? It had been so long since Dane had flirted with anyone of either gender that he really wasn’t clear on what signals to look out for. But if Seth was flirting, flattering and exhilarating as it was, Dane was in no way prepared to flirt back. He didn’t know how. He wondered if it was even right to flirt with a coworker. And the whole man-on-man thing was hotter than hell, Dane could admit to himself, but also mighty strange to a guy who was so buttoned-up he’d rarely allowed his fantasies to even stray much in that direction over the years of his marriage. So he changed the subject and immediately felt both disappointment and relief at doing what he thought was the right thing.

“So, Seth, how are you adjusting to our little town? Must be a bit of a culture shock, coming from Chicago. I can’t imagine.”

Seth blew out a sigh. Before he could respond, Mary showed up with their wine and a platter of homemade bread and a little bowl of olive oil and balsamic vinegar infused with crushed red pepper and garlic. She backed away quickly.

“I can’t say it’s been dull,” Seth answered, dipping a piece of bread in the seasoned oil. “It might be small-town, but so far, it’s pretty big on excitement. And, sadly, that’s not all a good thing.” He took a sip of wine.

“Yeah, Truman seems to be the school’s punching bag. I think, though, he’s beginning to develop some inner strength to deal with those bigots and idiots.”

“And that’s just what he needs.”

“I bet kids were a lot more tolerant in Chicago of people being a little different. I mean, living in such an urban environment must make the kids more sophisticated or something, right?”

Seth snorted. “You’d think! But not really. I mean, yeah, there was more tolerance for gay kids. There was even a gay social and activism club at the school, and it had a pretty good-sized membership, so there were definitely kids who were out. But they still faced the same things Truman does—the bullying and the teasing, the name-calling. Sometimes worse. We had a kid who got bashed right in the school parking lot a couple years ago—poor kid ended up in the hospital with a concussion and a few broken ribs. Not pretty.” Seth frowned. “But I guess it is a little easier in a big city, where the kids see gay people all the time.”

Dane drank some more of his wine and took his time eating a piece of bread. “What about you?”

“What about me? Was I out? Yeah, sure. The kids all knew. Some of the jock types snickered about it, but really, it was no big deal. And it certainly meant nothing to the administration. Hell, our principal was gay.”

“I can’t imagine.” Dane looked away, staring at but not really seeing the specials board mounted above the bar. “I can’t believe I came out to the whole school last week.” He said it with a feeling akin to shock, as if it were registering just now, as if, really, it were someone else who had taken this step.

Seth smiled, and even in the dim flicker of the candle on their table, Dane could discern the warmth in his eyes. There was something, Dane realized, about the combination of candlelight and a man’s eyes that could be mesmerizing. He found it hard to look away.

Seth said, “But don’t you feel better now? Now that it’s not a secret anymore?”

“I guess.” Dane wasn’t sure what he felt. He knew if he’d made such an admission at the Catholic school a couple of towns over, he’d probably be seeking new employment.

“Can I tell you something?” Seth asked.

Before Dane could answer, Mary returned. “What did you guys decide on?”

Dane said, “Gosh, Mary, we haven’t even looked at the menu.”

Most waitresses would have toddled off, saying something to the effect of “take your time,” but not Mary. “Hey, don’t bother with the menu. Let me tell you what’s good tonight. We got a nice big pot of pasta fagioli.” Mary pronounced it “pasta fazoo.” She nodded to Seth, “It’s beans and elbow macaroni simmered in a tomato sauce that’s to die for. You eat a bowl of that and have some of that bread there, it’ll fill you right up.” She winked. “And warm you right up too. How does that grab you boys?”

“Sounds delicious,” Seth said, and Dane nodded.

“Two bowls, then? I’ll bring you a nice escarole salad to start.” She walked away.

“I like her,” Seth said.

“I do too. She’s sweet and salty. Like the mother you always wished you had,” Dane said. “But you said you wanted to tell me something.”

“I did?” Seth asked.

Dane had the feeling Seth’s innocent act was just that—an act.

“Yeah.”

“Slipped my mind.” He looked around. “Hope she brings those salads right out. I’m starving.”

Dane wondered if Seth realized his foot rested on Dane’s instep. He was pretty sure he did. Seth didn’t strike him as the unobservant type. Dane shifted in the booth, wishing he could readjust the erection growing downward in his pants.

It was both painful and pleasurable.