Chapter Eighteen

The Summitville High School gymnasium had been transformed. Thanks to yards and yards of white crepe paper, scores of silver Mylar balloons, and several strategically placed rented disco balls, the scene of basketball games and tortuous gym classes had become a portal to a magical wonderland. The decorating committee had arranged round tables around the perimeter of the dance floor. Each one boasted an arrangement of fresh ivy cut from senior Cathy White’s parents’ old redbrick home, which had an endless supply. Flickering fake candles topped each table.

The DJ was queuing up her playlists on the stage overlooking the scene of that year’s prom. Right now, something soft and ethereal was playing.

Seth told Dane, “That’s Helen Jane Long. I listen to her when I’m feeling meditative. Very new age. I’m surprised the DJ would choose that for a high school dance.” He looked up at Dane in the pale, shimmering light and couldn’t believe they were at the prom together. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to jump for joy. Of course, for all intents and purposes, the official line was that they were chaperoning the prom together. Dane was, after all, the designated senior class adviser, and Seth had led the decorating team, using money left over from the staging of West Side Story as that year’s spring musical.

But here, in this moment, before they opened the doors to the prom-goers gathering outside the gym, expectant in their tuxedos and gowns, it was just the two of them and the pink- and spiky-haired DJ across the way, but she was paying them no mind.

“She’s just messing around. Testing sound levels, I’m sure. She’d get booed off the stage if she tried to play that.” Dane cocked his head and listened. “It is pretty, though.”

“Wanna dance?” Seth leaned into him.

Dane laughed, abashed. “What? Now? Here?” Dane eyed the room nervously, as if a thousand spectators hid in its corners, in its shadows.

“Yes. Before anyone comes in. Before the place gets swamped with adolescent pheromones and chatter.”

“What about the DJ?”

“She doesn’t care. I think she’s a lesbian, anyway.”

Dane peered into Seth’s eyes, and the ocular connection, as it always did, melted Seth in some places while hardening him in others. Dane touched Seth’s cheek, and just the simple gesture caused a tingle to rush through Seth’s entire body.

He loved this man! He couldn’t help it. They had tried to be sensible, to not rush heedless into love, not when Dane was still nursing his family through the loss of Dane’s wife and his kids’ mother, not when Seth should have still been tending to his bruised and cheated-on heart.

But love didn’t wait for the right time, as they both had learned. Love kept its own timetable, and how that schedule ran was a mystery. Secret trysts had gradually become more and more public—well, some parts of their relationship still remained very private. They did have some propriety, after all—until they were dating, in full view of not only the school but Dane’s kids, who were surprisingly blasé about their father having a boyfriend.

Even Clarissa. Especially Clarissa. Seth knew it had taken her a while to adjust, but once she had, she embraced her father with passion and a fierce protectiveness. Seth would never want to cross her.

“So do you? For me?” Seth suddenly realized he desperately wanted this moment—just the two of them, alone, in the flickering light—in each other’s arms.

“Well, maybe just a quick sweep around the dance floor.”

They embraced—and began to move. As they stepped out and into open space, the DJ increased the sound of the music. Seth found himself melting into Dane’s huge bear hug, his feet feeling as though they had left the floor. For a moment the room, the cheesy decorations, and even the music disappeared in the flickering light. For Seth, all that existed was this man, his warmth, his perfect fit as he embraced him. He laid his head against Dane’s chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

Seth thought of the slow fire of their relationship, how it gradually ignited and then leaped into flame, refusing to be denied. Over Dane’s shoulder, he saw the DJ watching them, grinning.

The song ended all too soon, and Seth let Dane be the one to break away.

“We need to open the doors now.”

“Let the hordes in.” Dane nodded. “Can’t we just barricade ourselves in here? Have our own private prom?”

Seth winked. “I’ll give you your own private prom—later. At my place.”

“We don’t have to go there. Joey’s staying at his buddy Ethan’s tonight, and Clarissa will be here and then at the after-prom. She won’t be home until morning.”

“I like having you at my place,” Seth said. “But are you actually saying we could spend the night at your house? In your bed?” They had made love at Dane’s—when the kids were gone. Afternoon quickies on their lunch hours. Hurried mornings after the kids headed out to school. But never a whole night…

“I think it’s time.” Dane smiled. “And I think the kids will be okay tomorrow, facing you over pancakes and sausage.”

“Well,” Seth said, “as long as I don’t have to cook them.”

“Or better yet, maybe I’ll take you to some seedy motel out on Route 7,” Dane whispered in Seth’s ear. “Make you my sex toy.”

And Seth suddenly wanted to leave right now.

“Big words, big man.” Seth started toward the bank of double doors opposite them. The noise from the crowd outside was a rising roar of voices and laughter. Seth glanced back at the DJ, who gave him a thumbs-up and launched into the theme for that year’s prom, Paramore’s “Ain’t It Fun?”.

As the music swelled, so did the crowds nearing the doors. Seth and Dane pushed them open and then stepped back, smiling and watching as a tsunami of teenagers entered the gym, smelling of perfume, cologne, hair spray, and most of all, hormones.

“Easy!” Seth cried. “No pushing!”

They flitted to tables, the more popular kids grabbing the ones immediately adjacent to the dance floor first, even though no one yet had the nerve to be the first to dance.

Seth eyed Dane across the heads of the crowd, smiling. Dane had worn a simple dark suit, and it made his shoulders look even more massive, while the dark color accentuated how trim the big man actually was. Seth hoped Dane appreciated the work that had gone into what he had on: a simple navy-blue silk suit, white shirt, and blue-and-red-striped repp tie. He had tamed his curls with gel and left his glasses at home, putting in the contact lenses he seldom wore.

Tonight would be a first—spent at Dane’s house. Seth hoped it would be the first of many.

*

It wasn’t until much later, after everyone had settled at the various tables and the dancing had begun in earnest, that the last couple to make the dance entered the gymnasium.

Seth nodded to the double doors. “Just like him to wait to make an entrance.”

He grinned, and Dane followed his gaze.

And there stood Truman, poised and waiting at the entrance to the gym. Seth felt his breath catch a little, having a quick vision of a scared boy who wanted to be invisible, atop a rooftop, ready to jump.

“Just like him,” Dane said and chuckled. Dane gave a low whistle. “Look at that getup. Kid’s got balls.”

Truman, who was always at a loss for money, was never at a loss for imagination. And he was ever the richer for it. Tonight he wore black. A black sarong (probably a curtain, but who was analyzing?), black combat boots, and a cropped black jacket that Seth suspected belonged to his mother, Patsy. Under the jacket, a white T-shirt with one of Truman’s sayings scrawled in marker across the front. Truman was too far away for him to decipher what the boy had chosen to highlight on this T-shirt.

And next to him stood Darrell Adams, an older boy from Truman’s neighborhood, brother to Alicia, who was in the same grade with Truman and who had become his best friend, ever since she’d stood up for his sartorial choices in one of Dane’s classes.

Seth leaned into Dane. “Looks like Truman is getting along very well with the Adams family.”

Dane snickered. “The Adams family.”

Seth shook his head. “Truman doesn’t have bad taste. That kid is hot.”

And Truman’s date was hot. A couple of years older than Truman, Darrell Adams towered over him by at least a head. His dark skin stood out against the all-white tux he wore. There were no crazy embellishments on his suit, just the simple tuxedo, with a black cummerbund and bright-orange silk tie, which matched the dyed strip in Truman’s hair. The funny thing was, he was paying no mind to the crowd in the gym, who were slowly quieting as they noticed the couple standing poised, hand in hand, at the gym’s entrance. No, Darrell only had eyes for Truman. He stared down at his date with something Seth thought approached wonder.

And Truman looked back up at him.

“If they don’t both have stars in their eyes, I don’t know what to think,” Dane said. “I feel so proud of that kid.”

Seth nodded as the newest couple to the prom moved forward. As if arranged, the dancers on the floor parted to make room for them. The song that was playing, some dance tune by Lady Gaga, halted abruptly. Seth looked over to see the spiky-haired DJ fiddling with her controls.

And an odd selection emerged from the speakers, from a band Seth was sure was popular when these kids weren’t even born—the Flamingos. The song? “I Only Have Eyes for You.” Darrell moved confidently to the center of the dance floor, as if the song, the dim lights, and the crowd stepping back to form a circle around the couple were all his and Truman’s due. He stood and waited, hand extended, for Truman to follow. When Truman caught up, Darrell took him in his arms, and they swirled around the dance floor as everyone watched, smiling.

Seth shook his head to clear it of the fantasy. Actually only a few people noticed Truman and Darrell come in, but here was the thing—none of them seemed to care. Once upon a time, there would have been pointing and laughter, nudging. Name-calling. Even as recently as Seth’s high school days, the thought of two boys attending prom together was unheard of, would have been an event to involve the school board and make the papers.

Seth looked around at the kids, more and more of whom had noticed Truman’s arrival. Sure, there were a few smirks, a few rolls of the eyes, but nothing that appeared truly cruel or threatening.

“Things have come a long way,” Dane said.

He took Seth’s hand and squeezed it, intertwining their fingers. The gesture was not lost on Seth. Dane had never allowed them any kind of public display of affection, especially not at the school. Yet here was Dane, clutching his hand. Anyone could see. And Dane, clearly, was not afraid. Seth squeezed back and felt a lump form in his throat. Sometimes the smallest gestures could have the biggest impact.

Darrell and Truman actually waited by the doors until the DJ played the next song, which was a slow one, Beyoncé’s “XO.” Seth wanted to stand and applaud the DJ’s choice. The song, with its lyrics about bright light even in the shadows, was a perfect metaphor for the young couple taking to the dance floor. He squeezed Dane’s hand tighter as Truman and Darrell actually began to move together to the music—for real this time.

No, no one stepped aside to make room for them. That was fantasy. But reality was even better, Seth thought, because of all of the kids dancing right alongside Darrell and Truman. The pair—black, white, gay, gender flaunting—were just another couple on the dance floor.

And that was a beautiful thing to see.

And then Seth saw something that surprised him, maybe even made his heart ache a little. There in the corner, hardly discernible in the dim light, was the star quarterback of the football team, Kirk Samson. He looked handsome and masculine in his tuxedo, and his date, Amber Wells, stunning in a shimmering turquoise dress, her black hair in a messy upsweep that looked elegant nonetheless, clung to him, perhaps to try to get him to notice her.

Kirk stared at Truman and Darrell, clutching a glass of punch in his fist. Seth could read, even from across the dance floor, the longing and the envy on the young man’s gorgeous face as he watched Truman and Darrell swirl together on the dance floor.

Seth didn’t say anything to Dane, not yet. The moment was so clear, so sad, that Seth didn’t think he could put anything about it into words. His gaydar had never picked up on Kirk Samson, but now it was dinging wildly, and Seth could see a hidden boy, unhappy and wishing for a different life.

Amber stood on tiptoes to whisper in Kirk’s ear, and whatever she said made him laugh. But the laugh looked strained, his face tight. He clutched Amber to him, and she, mistaking his despair for affection, clung to him, laying her head on his chest. Over the top of her head, though, Kirk continued to watch Darrell and Truman dance.

“He wishes he could be them,” Seth said to Dane.

“What? Who?”

And Seth nodded toward Kirk. “Can you see it?”

Dane didn’t say anything for a long time, and at last, in a voice tinged with regret and pain, he said, “Oh yeah. I can see it, because that was once me.”

“Once?”

“Yeah…and for a long time. Until you came along.” Dane studied Seth’s face for a moment, and then he said something that completely undid Seth. “Wanna dance?”

“You’re kidding.”

Dane shook his head. He stepped away from Seth a bit and held out his hand. “The time has come.”

Seth took Dane’s hand, allowing himself—in a little shock—to be led to the dance floor. There they did attract some notice as Dane took Seth into his arms and began moving gently with him in a little circle, shifting gracelessly from foot to foot. Seth chuckled a bit, but only on the inside. Dane was a terrible dancer. But here he was, in front of God, the school, and everyone, dancing with his man.

And no one said a word. No one cried out in disgust, or fury, or with recrimination.

They all simply danced.

And Seth made a point to let go of his fear of past hurts, of prejudices, and to feel the warmth of this man in his arms, trying desperately to dance, simply to please him.

He glanced over and saw Truman and could at last read the legend he had written across his T-shirt.

Seth smiled.

It said “One word frees us from pain: Love.”

Seth stood on tiptoes to whisper in Dane’s ear, “I love you.”

And Dane looked down at him, smiling. “Ditto.”