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It makes Ryan much more happy than it makes him sad to see this play out on the other side of the glass. It’s not his joy, but he’s glad it exists, that he can exist beside it, that he can know someone who’s taking part in it. He doesn’t feel left out, because he knows he’s taken himself out, because that’s what felt right to do. He doesn’t feel separate from Avery here. If anything, he feels a little closer, to be able to see him as he’d be if Ryan weren’t around, to know that his happiness isn’t relying on Ryan, it’s only complemented by Ryan.
“Who are you?” a voice asks behind him.
Ryan turns, and after his eyes adjust, he sees two deck chairs farther off on the lawn. Dennis is sitting in one of them.
Before Ryan can answer, Dennis leans forward, squinting, and says, “Oh, wait—you’re Avery’s boyfriend, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you. I mean, nobody’s actuallytold meabout you, but I’ve heard things.” There’s a bottle of vodka at Dennis’s feet, and when he sees Ryan noticing it, he picks it up and holds it out. “Would you like some? I can pour it right in your can. The Andersons have far too much trust when it comes to their liquor cabinet.”
“Aren’t they here?” Ryan asks.
“Upstairs. They’re not going to interrupt. As I said, they have trust. Trustingactors…can you imagine? Here—sit down. Join me.”
Ryan can’t think of a compelling reason not to, so he goes deeper into the shadows, then sits down in the second deck chair. Now the living room looks like a scene on a screen, volume turned low.
He puts down his can for a second, which Dennis takes as an invitation, picking it up and adding some vodka to Ryan’s Coke. Since Ryan knows he’ll be driving later, Dennis has just rendered his soda undrinkable. But he doesn’t say anything.
“So, what did you think of our little production? I saw you in the audience on multiple occasions. Surely you must have thoughts.”
“I liked it,” Ryan says, trying to leave it at that.
“Youliked it,” Dennis repeats, as if Ryan’s just handed him an epiphany.
“I laughed,” Ryan adds, then instantly regrets it, remembering who he’s talking to.
“You laughed! Well, of course you laughed. But tell me, Avery’s boyfriend—did youfeelanything?”
Ryan knows thatI felt proud of Averyisn’t what Dennis is looking for here. So he just keeps quiet, correctly assuming that Dennis will go on anyway.
“I suspected as much,” Dennis says. Both of them are facing forward, the dancing still unfolding in a rectangle of light. “You see,Don’t Forget Your Shoes!is, by pretty much any standard, a dreadful play. There are dozens if not hundreds of other plays that could actually speak to what’s going on in our country. But no. The high school would rather weput our minds in mothballs. If we play it safe, if we don’t make people feel anything, especially not discomfort, then no one will complain, and if nobody complains—well, that’s the definition of victory in the administration’s mind, isn’t it? But here’s the thing—I don’t accept that. I know it’s pretentious as fuck for high school students to consider themselves artists. But you know what, Avery’s boyfriend? I’m an artist. Or at least an aspiring artist, because one of the first steps to being an artist is claiming it, devoting yourself to it. When given drivel likeDon’t Forget Your Shoes!,what does an artist do? I’ll tell you—they see it as a challenge. The whole thing was designed to take people away from their cares, from their feelings. So what if you somehow turned it so they were forced backtowardtheir cares, their feelings? Wouldn’tthatbe art? Do you follow me?”
“Sort of.”
“I’ll take it. You have to understand—most comedies could easily be tragedies. Are you familiar withTwelfth Night?”
“Not really.”
“Considered by most to be Shakespeare’s greatest comedy, or at least one of them. It ends with two marriages. One involves a woman who marries a man she’s never met before because she thought he was his sister disguised as a man. The other involves a man who marries a woman who he fell in love with while he was her boss, and while she was pretending to be a man. So I ask you, in realistic terms: Does either of these marriages strike you as particularly promising?Or do you think that perhaps the dynamics at work here, and the sublimating of homoerotic desire, will lead to heartbreak, recrimination, and hostility? Same withDon’t Forget Your Shoes!A young man has his fiancée, his fortune, and his dignity torn away from him by family members he always thought were on his side. Does that soundhilariousto you?”
“Only if you’re not that young man,” Ryan says.
“Exactly!” Dennis calls out, so loud Ryan half expects the people inside to turn to the window and look. But they keep dancing and laughing. “I tried to tell people about this, but they didn’t want to hear it. Which only made me understand Lucius’s rage even more. Now it’s over, and all I can say isgood riddance. Your boyfriend wanted me to calm down? I’m perfectly calm now. And look—he’s searching for you.”
Sure enough, Ryan can spot Avery leaving the dancing, peering out the window, not quite seeing them. Ryan attempts a wave. Dennis calls, “Out here!”
—
Avery isn’t surewhat to make of the scene in the shadows, Ryan and Dennis sitting like old friends at the edge of the party. It’s too dark to read Ryan’s expression, but his posture isn’t relaxed.
“What’s going on?” Avery asks. He tries to make it sound light, but he doesn’t sell the line.
“Your boyfriend’s been humoring me,” Dennis replies. “And I appreciate that.”
Ryan gets up from his chair as Dennis punctuates his appreciation with a swig of vodka.
“I’m surprised you’re here,” Avery says.
Dennis laughs. “So am I. But I figured it might help me step out of Lucius’s skin, to be here and to see everyone back to normal again.”
Avery realizes this is the most conversational Dennis has been since rehearsals started. He wonders if this is actually what Dennis is normally like.
