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Dennis goes on. “Look, no hard feelings about earlier. I was in the zone, you weren’t in the zone, and as a result you took us all wayyyyyy outside the zone. Inside this meek little play we were handed, there’s a Sam Shepard play waiting to get out…but I couldn’t really free it myself. There were moments I thought I was getting you there—you’ve got the rage inside you, too, and I could see it flashing behind your eyes. But I understand now that it was me you were pissed off at, not Lucius. Fair enough. Can I offer you a drink? I don’t have any cups, but I’ll happily give you a swig.”
“I’m good,” Avery says. Ryan is now beside him. They exchange a look.
Dennis gets to his feet more steadily than either Ryan or Avery would have anticipated.
“No hard feelings?” Dennis asks.
And Avery thinks, no, the feelings he has toward Dennis are no longer hard. They are liquid now, easily digestible. The play is over; what use is there in being angry or annoyed?
“No hard feelings,” Avery says.
Dennis takes this as an invitation to come in for a hug. Instead of backing away, as he would have onstage, Avery accepts it.
“Someday,” Dennis says, “all this will be forgotten. But maybe some of it will be remembered.”
Then he turns around and points to a spot to the left, beyond the backyard.
“See that? That, good sirs, is my house. I think I’ll return there now, without this bottle in hand. My time here is done.” Then he turns back to Ryan and Avery. “I think you two are a good couple. You’re good, both of you.”
With that, he puts the bottle down in the grass and walks gently into the night, stepping over the backyard fence as if it were a mere prop, not waiting to see if his exit garners any applause.
—
Ryan is honestwith Avery.
“I don’t want to go back inside yet,” he says. “I want to stay out here with you.”
Avery looks concerned. “Are you having a bad time?”
“No—it’s not that. I’m having a good time, and I really want to hang out more with Liz and Hannah. It’s just…I like getting to be alone with you.”
Avery’s concern dissolves. “I can’t argue with that.” He gestures to the deck chairs. “Shall we?”
Ryan sits back down in the chair he was in before. Averymoves Dennis’s old chair so their armrests overlap. Avery sits, and his and Ryan’s arms overlap as well, palms kissing, fingers intertwining.
Inside, the dancing has turned to all-out singing. Ryan can’t make out what song it is, but he watches as Avery’s friends chorus into each other, exuberantly belting with unselfconscious glee.
Avery watches alongside, imagines what it must be like to see this scene as a near stranger.
“Nobody’s ever going to mistake us for the popular kids,” Avery says. “I can’t say I mind that at all.”
Pope is standing on a chair, using a pretzel stick to act as conductor.
“I’ve never had a group,” Ryan says. “I have friends and everything. But never a group, not like this. There are groups I get along with, but I’m not a part of them, you know? You definitely have a group.”
Avery rubs his thumb over Ryan’s thumb. Just a little something to keep his heart warm.
“I’m new to groups, too,” he tells Ryan. “And honestly? I don’t think I noticed how much of a group we’d become until now. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I won’t be seeing them every day after school. It all passes so fast.”
“I was thinking how you were just starting rehearsals when we met. That was one of the first things I learned about you, that you were in this play.”
“Now here you are at the cast party. I’d say that’s progress.”
Ryan leans over and Avery leans in. They haven’t found the exact right angle yet, but they’re close.
“You know,” Ryan says, “I’ve never been to a party as somebody’s boyfriend before.”
“An oversight on the universe’s part,” Avery observes. Then he asks, “How’s it going?”
