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“What did we just do?” asks Bobby finally, wide-eyed.
I shrug. “I think I might’ve just come out to the whole fuckin’ town, that’s what I did.”
“Yeah, I think you did!” agrees Bobby laughingly.
I break a smile, then kiss him again, silencing his laughs. His hands slip around my back, and I do the same, pulling his hips against mine and holding him close.
When we separate our faces, I give him a warm rub up and down his arms. “You look really, really good tonight.”
Bobby smiles, then nods at me. “You’re lookin’ fairly dapper yourself, Mr. Strong.”
“So what do you say? Are we ready to face the music?”
“I’ve been ready all night.”
With that, we hold hands and head right on back to the noise of the pavilion, where everyone is mingling and chatting amongst themselves. I reckon a common question most—if not all—of the tables are asking is what the heck that kiss was “between the Parker and the Strong boy”. Bobby and I pay no attention to it, caring instead to hang with our parents, who have gathered at a big table right by the wall where I found Bobby in the first place.
That’s where we belong: among friends and family who don’t buy into all the scandal and craziness of Spruce’s gossipers.
Okay, maybe that’s a bit naïve of me to say.
Did I forget whose son I am?
“What in the goose-lovin’ hell??!” exclaims my mama when we first approach the table. She’s trying to keep her voice down. It isn’t working even a tiny little bit. “I’ve got two gay sons now? When were you gonna tell me?? Why am I bein’ denied over and over again the opportunity for a fabulous comin’ out party?? Why do my sons hate me so friggin’ much??”
I have to hug and console my mama for several minutes and give her a hundred soothing, apologetic sentences before we’re back to rights. Also, I set her straight about the fact that I’m not sure what exactly I am, but know I’m attracted to women and men.
Or maybe more accurately: women and Bobby.
Of course, Patricia has to brag (in her soft-voiced, sweet kind of way) that she knew way ahead of time about the pair of us, and is now so excited for the world to know, too. That seems to change my mama’s tune, turning her from a caught-off-guard mess to a, “Well, I mean, of course I saw the signs, yes, I was quite sure, I just, I just didn’t know for sure, yes,” as she anxiously sips her wine.
Soon, people start to get braver and make their way over to our table to offer their congratulations on our performance. One woman in a purple dress says our dance inspired her to attend more dance recitals and shows at the school, even though her daughter graduated years ago. Another woman proudly tells us that she just donated an extra hundred dollars to a silent raffle after seeing our “impassioned dancing”. There’s a young man who approaches us and is especially impressed that Bobby isn’t even a trained dancer, but “just a soccer player jock”, in the young man’s words. Bobby smiles especially brightly at that and thanks him, his face burning its usual shade of red when he’s complimented.
At first, months ago, I had thought maybe Bobby and I were just doing a fun dance to help support the movement of working to keep the arts alive in the schools.
I had no idea how much our little performance would mean to so many people in Spruce. Husbands. Wives. Their inspired kids. Relatives. Teachers and administrators, and about everybody else.
And more importantly: to so many people with full and heavy wallets—as well as full and heavy hearts.
It’s overwhelming.
Billy looks like he’s hyperventilating when we encounter him by a tall vase of multicolored tulips. “We’ve raised over three times as much as we did last year, and the night’s not even over.” He wipes sweat off his forehead that’s not even there, knocking a hand into the bowtie of his smart-looking tux on accident. “I have no idea how we managed this. We sold all the art. We got over two hundred more donations after y’all’s dance alone. And now there’s talk about rebuilding the decrepit Spruce High auditorium that’s probably at least a century old. I … I …” He looks at us suddenly. “I haven’t even had time to process what you guys did. Are you two an item now? Did I miss something? When did this happen?”
Bobby smiles, then gives him a shrug. “Under everybody’s nose is probably the most accurate answer.”
Billy lets out a nervous laugh. Then he studies Bobby as a deep thought circles in his brain. “I owe you an apology, Bobby … but I don’t even think you realize I owe it to you. I …” He sighs. “I may have had some doubts about whether you could hold your own, especially with Jimmy as a partner. Boy was I wrong. Dead wrong.” Suddenly Billy wraps up Bobby in a hug, then slaps his shoulders. “And I would say somethin’ like, ‘Hey, welcome to the family!’ with regard to you and Jimmy, but you’ve basically already been a part of it for quite some time. I’m so proud of you. Both of you.” Then he gives me a wink. “When Spruce High has its brand new auditorium, I wouldn’t be surprised if they slap your name on it. Strong, that is,” he adds quickly. “Not Jimmy. That’d be strange.”
