A series of vivid memories from our trip flashes through my mind as I walk away from the church. I need a little distance from Hayes to let them wash over me. Hayes asking me to dance in Barcelona. Hayes sweeping in with Aisha in London and faking it to save me. Hayes showing off his body and then flirting with Otto by the lake. He deserves an answer to his question about how much he’s changed, but I’m enjoying the memories too much to let them leave my mind quickly.
“Brady, do you think I’ve changed?” he asks, catching up to me.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I do.” I make my voice certain and clear. “Much less reserved, and I like it.” Hayes nods, smiles and then pushes his lips together. He likes my answer.
“Okay. My turn,” Hayes says. We walk slowly together without any particular destination. At each corner one of us guides the other in a direction. It’s all random and easy. But knowing he could ask me anything makes my pulse quicken.
“In London you mentioned that you wanted be a kindergarten teacher.”
“Yeah, I did. It wasn’t a big deal. I also want to walk in a Balenciaga show on a Paris runway and learn to do a release catch on a trapeze. But I don’t see any of those things happening. Have you seen the shoes they wear in the circus? No thanks.” I try to blow it off like he didn’t just mention something I think about all the time.
“Brady, I’m serious.” We are walking side by side on a wide empty street, our steps in perfect unison. “How you were talking about your niece at the fountain. You lit up.”
“Well, she’s my niece, that’s all,” I say with careful nonchalance, but it does little to diminish his driving serious tone.
“When I think about all the things that make you Brady, like how you’re a great listener, the way you can make any small task fun. You treat each person you meet with respect. And… This is a big one. You think milk and cookies are a complete meal.” We both laugh. He’s not wrong about the cookies. Not any of it really. “Add it up, Brady. It makes perfect sense.”
Even I can see the sum total of his data easily. We walk quietly past outdoor cafes with enough people seated to be busy but not crowded and shops selling the kinds of things residents need like hardware and groceries, not trinkets.
I shut it all out for a few seconds and try to imagine the first day of my first class. Kids a bit older than Gemma walking into a room where I’ve made colorful bulletin boards and curated the perfect collection of inclusive picture books. A terrarium in the corner with a turtle named Tortilla that the kids feed on a rotating basis. And crayons. The wonderful fresh, waxy smell of new crayons.
“You’re right. But I start law school in the fall.” I let the vision I was having fade. I thought this trip might somehow change my future, but that was a reach. It was just a delay, and I have to face reality. “I’m already enrolled. I have a class schedule, a spot in the residence hall.”
“But is that what you want to do? Do you really want to be a lawyer?” Hayes asks.
“No, I’ve never wanted that, but I never wanted anything, so I’ve been going along with the plan to not upset anyone. It makes other people happy, and maybe that’s enough. I never even thought about being a teacher before this year with Gemma, and then it was too late.”
“Why?” He’s not pushing. I look in his eyes and I can tell he has a desire to know, or at least a desire to help me figure it out. I’m trying to put it together in my brain for him and for me. The reason I never thought about pursuing it is because I couldn’t imagine doing it without him. All this stuff with teaching came up while we weren’t speaking. He was the one who always supported me. He was the one who made me think I was smart and clever. He was the one who helped me pass Biology. When we were together, I could see myself through his eyes and that made so many things possible. The year of being broken up and out of touch made me feel like the only path I could follow was the one my parents offered. But I can’t tell him all this, even if we are in Poland.
“That’s a great question,” I say, staying within the boundaries of our agreement, hoping he can’t tell I’m stalling. “My parents would cut me off.” It’s not a reason I’m proud of, but it’s the truth. “And it’s not just the money. I have spent my whole life training to be a Gibson, from boarding school to college. If I changed course now, I would disappoint so many people.” I swallow hard. “Law school is what’s expected of me, and I guess I’m not sure who I am without that.”
“You’re Brady. You’re a natural teacher. You’re smart, and funny and you take care of people. You are honest and…”
“Hold up there.” I raise my hand and stop walking. “Let’s not forget how I got you here.” I lied and he knows I lied. I can’t change that no matter where I am.
“Yeah, but you came clean about that,” Hayes says, thinking my deceit started and ended with the fake-dating ruse. But it didn’t.
“There’s more I haven’t told you,” I say, hoping I can get the words out.
Chapter 37
Poznan
Hayes
“What is that?” Brady points down the street to an opening where I see trees peeking out from between the buildings. At first I think he’s delaying, but then I see it too.
“Is that what I think it is?” I ask.
“Let’s find out,” Brady says. Our pace quickens and as we get closer it becomes clearer.
A ivy-covered gate with a neon sign above it reads ‘Klub Stonewall’ in blue letters with a pink high heel in the corner. The small pride flag that caught our attention sticks out of the gate in such a way that you wouldn’t see it if you weren’t looking. But if you know, you know.
We walk through the gate; there’s a bar at the back and few tables under an archway with a canopy of green vine. A few tables have queer-presenting people about our age and I hear house music in the background.
“I swear if a young gay boy told me he was thinking about coming out, the first question I would ask him would be, ‘Do you like house music?’ Because it’s one thing to like boys, but you have to be able to put up with a lot of house music. It’s everywhere,” I say.
“I know, right?” Brady bops his head. “It’s the soundtrack of our lives.”
