Hayes said he “knew all summer.” All summer, while I finally felt capable, while I discovered who I could be, he knew none of it was real. This job, my new direction, this version of myself that I had started to uncover and started to actually like. All of it due to my parents’ money and Hayes’ silence. It was one thing to keep it from me, but another to let me find myself this summer and know that it’s all been a joke. How am I supposed to go to Boston with him when I know he doesn’t even believe in me?
I crawl off the bed toward the closet. Hayes will be back from his run soon and I cannot face him. Maybe I should have joined Maude on the yacht last night, danced on the deck and poured expensive champagne down my throat. That’s where I belong. No expectations. No problems. I thought Hayes was the one person who saw me as more than a trust fund kid.
I open the closet and push our clothes to the side to see two garment bags with the tuxedos for the wedding. Suddenly I know what to do next, and the clarity allows me to stop my tears. I take my garment bag out and sit on the edge of the bed with it on my lap. I wipe my eyes and run my hand over the smooth fabric of the case containing my tuxedo for the wedding. That’s where I belong, not at a grad school for education that I have no chance of getting into, not with the brilliant doctor who obviously thinks I’m not smart enough to keep up. What was he planning to do? Take my teaching certification exam for me so I can be the version of me that he thinks he loves?
The door opens and Hayes bounces in from his run panting but full of energy. “Hey, I’m glad you’re up, babe. I want to talk to you about…” He kisses me on the cheek and then goes to the wet bar where he pours a glass of water and downs it with two gulps without really looking at me.
He walks back over to me and sits on the bed. “There is something I want to… no, something I need to and should have…” He finally sees the garment bag on my lap. “What’s that?”
“The tuxedo my mom brought over the other day.” I turn my face away from him so he can’t see that I’ve been crying.
“Is someone coming to pick it up?”
“No,” I say. I’m not going to make this easy for him or myself.
“Okay.” His voice rises, showing confusion and concern. He puts his hand on my thigh and I feel the electric pulse I always do when he makes contact, but this time it’s wild and uncontrolled, like a downed wire hitting a puddle of water. I pull away from him and stand up with the bag draped over my arm. “So why do you have it?”
“So I can get the alterations done. I don’t want it to look sloppy.” I turn toward him for the first time and when he sees my face, his drops. He knows I’ve been crying. But now, ice water runs in my veins. I need every ounce of strength to walk out that door. “For the wedding. I’m going to the wedding.”
He jumps off the bed and stands in front of me. “Oh, God!” He puts his hand softly on my shoulder and I can feel it shaking. I back away from him. “You overheard me with Aisha.”
My expression does not change. I pick up the white case next to me and hand it to him, still holding my tux. “You forgot your earphones.”
“Oh, God. Fuck. Seriously fuck. I swear on my mother’s grave I was coming up here to tell you. I should not have kept it from you. I know…”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” Some of the anger breaks through the wall of sadness surrounding me. I’m barely present in this moment. It’s like this is happening to someone else.
“I’m sorry,” Hayes says. “I’m so sorry, Brady. I fucked up. I should have told you. I want to be honest with you. I swear.” He’s reading my face, looking for his words to have an impact, but they don’t.
“Hayes, I want to be honest with you too. Since we’ve been in Capri… since…” I try to find the exact moment where I started having doubts about myself. Was it when my mother arrived? Was it when the plane took off from Poznan and we left the most magical city of the trip? When did I start realizing how hard it would be to maintain the version of myself that Hayes has found a way back to loving? A version of myself that was built on a lie.
Hayes can sense the doubt rising inside me.
“It’s all been fast. I know. We can slow down,” Hayes says. “You can join me for spring semester, or next summer if that’s better.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s next summer or the summer after that.” Maybe I’m using what I overheard as an excuse. This is my opportunity to find a way out of all this responsibility. Who ever heard of a trust fund kid becoming a kindergarten teacher? It’s pretty stupid.
“Brady, you want this. I know you want this. I know what happens in your voice, in your eyes when you sing that Motown song on phone with Gemma or talk about having your own kindergarten class. Your entire face lights up.” He’s searching my eyes. Trying to find a way in, but I won’t let him. Maybe my resolve is collapsing, and no matter how much I want this, I’m not ready for it. I’m as much of a fuck-up as my parents, and Hayes, think I am.
Gemma and my sister fly in tonight. I’ll be able to be at the Silversteins’ when they arrive. I don’t know how I can walk away from Hayes. I’ve wanted him for so long. But at least tonight there will be a soft landing with my sister and niece there.
“I do,” I say. “I want it very badly, but it was your belief in me that made me think Icoulddo it. I felt like we were a team again this summer.”
“We were,” Hayes says.
“But this summer was based on a lie,” I say.
He squirms and rubs his face and looks around the room. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Yes, I get that. But it’s more. Last night, when we saw Maude and she mentioned the wedding.”
“This damn wedding. Again?” He stands up and marches over to the window, trying to control his emotions. “Brady, if you want to go, then go. I’ll even go with you.” He starts searching through the closet, randomly pushing the hangers. “I’ll wear the tuxedo. I’ll dance with your mother. I’ll…”
“It’s not just me going and you staying. Or you going because of an ultimatum.”
“I can’t believe we are back here again,” Hayes says. “You are choosing them again, aren’t you?”
“I am not,” I stand up in protest. “This is about us. It’s about you loving all of me, even the parts that come from privilege. I need you to see that. If you love me, you have to love all of me, including the parts that make you uncomfortable. I love that you see me as more than a rich kid, but I’ll never be able to erase that piece of myself. That’s part of the reality of who I am. Hayes, let’s face it, we do not do well with reality.”
