Short Stories - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

The rest of the night was spent getting Isaac accustomed to using both legs again. With Dr. Pam's helpful suggestions, soon enough he was walking just like me or Lonnie or anyone else, if only a small bit slower.
Unsurprisingly, this caused quite the reaction at school on Wednesday. It didn't go unnoticed that Isaac had ditched his wheelchair after months of being tied to it, and was now walking as if nothing had happened. When he strolled into our third period, he looked just as he had the first time I ever saw him--tall, confident, his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, and wearing jeans that I appreciated so much more now that I was dating him.
Just like on that first day, his eyes instantly landed on me, and when I smiled at him, he came and sat in the vacant desk next to mine.
"Looking good," I said, and he smiled happily.
"Feeling good."
I woke up on Saturday morning feeling very, very nervous.
It was weird. For the entirety of the week, I'd faced the prospect of prom with nothing but excited anticipation. I'd envisioned myself laughing and twirling and thoroughly enjoying the last dance I would ever attend as a high school student. It wasn't until I opened my eyes on the awaited morning that a feeling of dread began to settle over me.
I couldn't help but fear that I was making a mistake. Isaac had just finally recovered from a series of weeks that must have been awful for him. He'd had three days at school that were fun and carefree. Was I, with my suggestion, signing him up for a quick end to that happiness?
Though, if I was being completely honest with myself, my worries were hardly focused on Isaac. He was tough; I knew that after what he'd been through this year, he'd be able to handle a few homophobes.
But what about me? Aside from receiving some of the backlash from Calum and Luke, I didn't know what it was like to be picked on. Even in my worst days, before I was adopted, I'd never faced bullies. I'd never been mocked or mistreated, unless a few awful foster parents counted. Having never really been tested, I didn't know how I'd handle a negative reaction.
And there was bound to be one. Our school may not have been in the middle of some heavily religious, gay-hating town where coming out would lead to relentless hatred from all sides, but it wasn't the most open-minded place, either. There was only one out gay kid at Westview, and the reaction to him was telling enough.
I was sure that many people wouldn't care in the slightest, and that some would even be supportive. But there were, I knew, also large ranks of guys and girls who would find it necessary to show their distaste. Perhaps I would even lose friends over it.
This worry followed me all throughout the day. My dad tried to ease my nerves, but I couldn't quite shake the last-minute fear. To think, I'd felt so good about it wen I first presented the idea to Isaac . . .
Before I knew it, the time was six. It would be an hour before Isaac and Callie arrived. I had to force myself, despite the invisible lead weights that seemed to be holding my legs in place, to get ready. I couldn't find a shred of my previous excitement as I buttoned my white dress shirt and pulled on my black suit, or even as my dad helped me organize the blonde mess that was my hair and fix my maroon bow-tie, making jokes all-the-while to try and lighten my mood.
When the doorbell rang downstairs, he seemed to finally lose patience with my sulking, because he grabbed me by the wrist before I could grasp the doorknob, forced me to turn around and look at him, and said, "Listen. This is going to be a night you look back on for the rest of your life. It's one of the last exciting things you'll do before you're off to college. If you're so terrified of coming out that it'll ruin your night, then by all means, don't, because you need to enjoy this night to its fullest, and if you think you'd be more comfortable that way, nobody can tell you otherwise.
"But I know how much you care about Isaac, and if what you really want is to be his date tonight, then you're going to have to try your hardest to focus on only him, because he'll make all of this worth it, and you don't want to ruin that by being in your own head. You'll find that the only people who matter tonight are the ones that don't care who you're dancing with. Whatever choice you make doesn't matter to me, as long as you know it's the choice that'll make you happiest. Please, promise me you'll have fun tonight."
The doorbell rang again. I stared for a moment at my dad, having not at all expected him to have so much to say, but appreciating every word nonetheless. "I . . ." I struggled to find words, overcome for a moment with just how much I loved the man standing in front of me. Then I said, "I promise," nodding insistently and inwardly trying to convince myself. As the doorbell rang for a third time, I turned to open it, but turned back right as my fingers touched the knob to give my dad a fierce hug. "I love you, dad," I whispered, because sometimes I felt like I didn't tell him enough.
"I love you too," he said fondly. "Now, for the love of god, please let that poor boy in."
Laughing, I finally opened the door to find a rather impatient-looking Isaac. Standing next to him was Lonnie, who beamed when she saw me, a camera in her hands, and before anyone could so much as greet each other, she cried the word, "Pictures!"
I was hardly listening, though, because I was too busy ogling my boyfriend.
His suit was all-black, down to the button-up underneath and the tie adorning it, save for a pocket square that was the same deep red as my tie--a lucky coincidence, because we hadn't bought our suits together. It did just about everything a suit was meant to do for a guy, and I quickly fell victim to the notorious tuxedo-effect.
It was only when Lonnie nudged him that I noticed he'd been staring at me in a similar way, and he seemed to struggle for a moment to focus his eyes on my face. When Lonnie and my dad exchanged an amused glance, I made a weak attempt to pull myself together for the sake of my own dignity.
Clearing my throat, I managed to say the word, "Hey," without sounding as ridiculously gay as I felt at the moment. Success.
"Hey," Isaac smiled, his cheeks still a bit pink. "You look great."
For some reason I was blushing, too, as if this was the first time he'd ever complimented me. "You t-- "
"Yes, yes, you both look beautiful and you're just dying to rip each other's smexy suits right off, we get it."
Isaac jumped. Callie had appeared in the doorway next to him, and I'd been too busy in my gay little haze to notice her approach. On her arm was Marcus Powell, a cute guy from the music club that had liked her since middle school; for years she'd pretended to have no interest, but I always knew she had a thing for him as well. He, Lonnie, and my dad laughed as Isaac and I turned bright red.
We were ushered outside, still blushing, by Lonnie, who was itching to capture the moment. When I finally found my words again, I made sure to whisper a handful of profanities to Callie, who only smirked in response. She looked beautiful, but I wasn't about to tell her that after her little comment. Ryan Matthews was my name, and being petty was my game.
She really did look incredible, though; with her hair curled and a soft pink dress hugging her figure and flowing around her feet, she was absolutely stunning. For all the laughing Marcus had done at my expense, he clearly couldn't take his eyes off of her any better than I could look away from Isaac.
After twenty minutes of excessive picture-taking, the four of us were able to file into Isaac's car. Not, of course, before I could point to my dad and mouth the words no funny business; I knew he no longer had his sights on Lonnie--they were good friends, nothing more--but it had become a running joke between us, and I couldn't leave them alone together at my house without making it.
I sat in the passenger seat as Isaac drove--something he continually insisted on doing ever since he got his leg--holding his hand over the console and laughing as Callie and Marcus belted along to the songs on the radio very badly, even though they probably could have sounded great if they wanted to. It wasn't until we were in line to enter the venue where the dance was taking place that I noticed my nerves had vanished.
"Ready?" Isaac said, offering his hand, as we stood at the front doors of the building, the music inside already reaching our ears.
"Are you nervous?" I asked him.
He laughed, and for the first time that night, I caught a trace of fear in his eyes. "Of course I am," he admitted. "You?"
I thought for a moment. "Not more than I should be," I decided finally and, placing my hand in his, said, "Ready," right as Callie's voice behind us grumbled, "There are people behind you, Mister and Mister. Get a move on."
Laughing, we stepped into senior prom.
For a few moments, we remained unnoticed. The area was relatively crowded, the building was dark save for decorative lights and strobe lights, and people were busy with their own conversations. But every few steps, someone would do a double take, then whisper what they'd seen to their friends.
A sort of domino effect ensued.
Soon, there were too many eyes on us. It wasn't as if every head had turned, or silence had fallen around us--that extra shit only happened in movies. But enough people were glancing over and away every other second, as if that was any less obvious than downright staring, to make those nerves from this morning creep up on me again. Callie kept up a conversation to pull our focus from the attention we were getting, but I saw Isaac glancing around just as I was, hardly listening as more and more people watched, some of them looking less than happy.
I heard Trevon Johnson--one of Calum's old goonies--loudly jeer to his friend, "Since when is our school so full of fairies?" One of the boys from the basketball team, Van Harrison, stared with disgust on his expression as we passed, and I could tell exactly what he was thinking when he looked at me: I changed in front of that guy for four years.
Most of the kids here knew who Isaac and I were, and that only worked to make things worse. I just wanted to get to the packed dance floor already, where only those nearest would be able to stop and look.
Somehow, though, that seemed so far away. What I needed now was a distraction, or I was going to go crazy before ever getting a chance to have fun.
Conveniently, one presented itself.
"KITTY!"
The shrill cry had several heads turning away from me and Isaac. The only person who didn't seem confused was Callie, who let out an excited squeal and whipped around in the direction of the voice, exclaiming, "Babe!"
Marcus looked rather affronted as a boy tackled Callie in a squeezing hug and said, "Hun, you look gorgeous!"
His expression eased considerably, however, when the boy pulled back to reveal the face of Benny Cormack, the one un-closeted gay guy that the school had to offer. Well, one of three now, I guess. His hair was dyed pink, his tie was blue and sequined, and his face bore makeup as intense as Callie's. Benny was, as some might say, a total flamer.
"Right back at you, love," Callie giggled. I knew they'd been friends for a while now, but I'd never had any classes with him, so I didn't know him for much more than his name and his sexuality.
"Said like a true fag-hag," Benny laughed, slinging an arm around Callie's shoulders. Now that people knew what was happening, eyes began moving from him back to me and Isaac, who were still holding hands--rather tightly. Benny followed their gazes, his eyes widening as he took us in.
"Oh, hellllll yes!" he said excitedly. "This is the shit this place needs!"
I didn't really know what to say to that, and neither did Isaac, so we stayed quiet, blinking stupidly.
"Oh, loosen up, boys," Benny drawled, extending a manicured hand. "Benjamin Harper Cormack, resident founder of the one-man lgbt club that exists in my mind, at your service."
Despite my initial surprise--Benny could be a lot to get used to--I found myself laughing as I shook his hand after Isaac. "Hi, Benny. I'm-- "
"Literally everyone in this room knows who you are, babe," Benny grinned, clasping his hands together. His mention of our peers had me glancing around again, pulled suddenly from my distraction. I realized that quite a few people were still watching our interaction, and I felt myself tense slightly. Benny seemed to notice, because he said, "Oh no. That won't work."
Isaac raised his eyebrows. "Huh?"
"Y'all are coming out of the infamous closet tonight," Benny began, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "What you might not realize is that there are actually three ways to do it. One: you can trip over your own feet and face-plant out. Two: you can awkwardly shuffle out with your heads down--a lot of people take that route. Or, you can backflip the fuck out wearing rainbow capes and singing Cher, and land with your asses in the air."
Callie snorted next to him, Isaac spluttered a cough, and I felt my neck heat up, very aware of the still-listening ears around us. "Option one, you break your cute little noses. Option two is boring as shit. Option three sends our wigs flying to Jamaica. So choose option three."
Again, I wasn't sure how to respond, and Isaac looked completely lost, but that didn't seem to be an issue, because Benny hardly took a breath before continuing. "Listen, people are always gonna stare at things they don't understand. They stare at me because they ain't never seen a black gay before--we do exist, you know--and because they've never seen someone so damn wonderful.
"They stare at you because they don't understand that not every gay man has to be a total fag like yours truly," he gave a small bow to accompany his words, "And because they can't believe that two of the hottest bachelor jocks in this shithole have been secretly bumpin' booties under everyone's noses. We're iconic—of course we get attention.
"Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, that's not going away, so you kids gotta own it. You either gotta live for it, if you're an attention whore like me, or ignore it, but you can't be scared of it. I don't even know you and I'm happy as fuck for you, and if they're not, who in god's hairless asshole cares? Just say fuck 'em and get your cute asses to the dance floor and act like all the gross straight couples here tonight," Benny finished, placing a hand on his hip.
Isaac was opening and closing his mouth, clearly at a loss for words. But I was laughing, shaking Benny's hand again and saying, "My wig just flew to Jamaica."
I couldn't help but admire the guy. He was so unapologetically him, and that was all anyone should ever try to be.
Then I turned to Isaac. "You heard the man," I said, excited again. "Let's dance!"
I could see Benny's words finally having the same effect on Isaac, and, with a shit-eating grin, he pulled me through the crowd, trying to look past each judging stare. We were followed by a laughing Callie, a dumbfounded Marcus, and a smirking Benny--along with his whole entourage of friends. Then we were dancing as a group, and all I was thinking about was how much fun I was having now that I ignored the turning heads; the awesome thing was, eventually most of the heads lost interest turned back, and it was just me and my friends.
We jumped and danced and laughed and screamed along to the loud music until we were all sweating and had to push our way back through the crowd to find an empty table to cool off at (and for the girls to stash their heels at, because Callie wouldn't stop whining about how her feet hurt).
We didn't find an unoccupied spot, exactly, but one where Harper Davis from the music club was sat with her date. She beckoned us over excitedly, and apparently she was friends with Benny, too, because they created a scene similar to the one I'd witnessed when he spotted Callie.
The table had six chairs but there were eleven of us, so we did a bit of stacking to fit. Harper sat on her boyfriend's lap, Callie sat on Marcus'--he looked very pleased about it--and Benny's friends sat on each other. Benny sat alone, claiming, "I love y'all, but if you kids think I'm gonna let you wrinkle my suit, you've got another thing coming."
I planted myself happily on Isaac's lap, snuggling back into his chest as his arms wrapped around my waist. Any ounce of fear I'd had before had evaporated, leaving me feeling light and giddy. I knew we were still getting stares and some glares, but no one had approached to say anything unless it was a friend showing their support, and I found that Benny's advice worked like a charm; I ignored it all.
Benny left briefly to grab drinks, shocking us all when he came back successfully balancing eleven cups of punch on various parts of his body. When asked how he did it, he answered, "Magic gay powers bestowed by Jesus," and we all laughed.
I was the first to bring a cup to my lips, craving hydration after all of that dancing. I took a sip and nearly spit it out.
Isaac laughed behind me. "Spiked?" he asked.
My face screwed up, I nodded. "Yup," I croaked. "Looks like we're taking an uber tonight. Someone dumped some strong shit in there."
Apparently, that was all he needed to hear. I watched, wide eyed, as he tossed the drink back and, after a few gulps, had emptied the cup, not wincing once.
I was positively gaping. "Isaac," I breathed, not trying in the least to hide my shock. "Who would've guessed?"
Smirking, he said, "There's a lot you don't know about me, babe."
"To Isaac being a closet animal!" Callie toasted, and everyone laughed and raised their glasses.
Twenty minutes later, we were hurrying back to the dance floor, considerably less sober than we had been before. And, as expected when teens got tipsy, the area started to heat up quite a bit.
Callie was backed up against a flustered and excited looking Marcus, Benny was at the middle of a grind circle with his friends, and I was pressed against Isaac, my hands in his hair. I was reminded again that my boyfriend was fucking hot as hell, and suddenly, I found myself wishing that we were somewhere else. My bedroom, maybe. The back of his car. Hell, I'd settle for a broom closet.
If I didn't chill my horny ass out, I would soon have a rather embarrassing problem to deal with. Thankfully, the angels were on my side tonight, because the song soon faded to a much slower one, and everything calmed down in succession.
I let my arms fall around Isaac's torso as his hands settled at my waist, gently holding me close, making me feel all mushy and cute and in love again. After a few moments of slow swaying, I felt that urge that I was so used to by now; the urge to lean over and kiss my wonderful boyfriend. The feeling was always a menace when we were in public, when kissing him wasn't an option.
Except it was an option now. And that was really, really exciting.
Without another thought, I raised my head deliberately from Isaac's shoulder and pressed my lips against his, meeting no opposition on his end as his arms tightened around my waist and he kissed me back.
And kissed me, and kissed me, and kissed me.
Now, I wasn't a massive PDA fan. But I was a little drunk and very happy, and this was prom for god's sake--everyone made out at prom, it was like a rule of science. Around me, there were boys and girls with their faces glued together like there was no tomorrow. I remembered Benny's advice from before, to just act like all the gross straight couples here tonight, and I figured, well, all of his other advice had worked pretty well so far.
So I kissed him shamelessly, and I loved it.
Then, so suddenly that I was nearly startled by it, I was overcome by this intense, fantastic feeling all over, because there I freaking was, out of the stupid closet, dancing with the boy I loved at prom, kissing him like in all the cheesy romance movies. More than ever that night, I didn't care about the eyes I could feel on me, because this moment belonged to me and Isaac only. It was something I'd dreamed of as a growing teen, and now I was living it, and it was as cliche and romantic and lovey-dovey as I could've hoped it to be.
Isaac pulled away and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then wrapped his arms around my neck and hugged me close, his nose resting against the top of my head. I could hear his heartbeat in his chest, slow and calm and comfortable. Exactly how I felt.
And that was, I thought, how it was supposed to be. Beyond all of the heart-racing heat, beyond the frayed minds and the burning touch, there had to be a level of simple, genuine comfort. A feeling of trust and self-disclosure and love over lust. Then it was real.
This was real. I wasn't sure anything could've made me happier.
It wasn't long before the slow song was over, and I turned to look around for what felt like the first time in months. My eyes instantly landed on Callie. Rather than focusing on Marcus--who was, now that I looked around, nowhere to be seen--she was standing facing me and Isaac with her phone raised. Benny was standing beside her, staring at the screen with a cheeky grin on his glossed lips. "Now this is the good. Gay. Shit. I signed up for," he said.
"Did you take pictures of us?" Isaac laughed, and Callie just winked and said, "You'll thank me later. This shit is cute."
"Send me the ones of them playing tongue-tag, will you?" Benny joked to Callie in a whisper-yell, and for the hundredth time that night, he made us all laugh.
I didn't even complain about the pictures, because there was a good chance I would thank her later. It was about time my Instagram got a bit gayer.
Marcus reappeared the next moment next to Harper's boyfriend, each carrying a few more cups of punch. I took two eagerly, though I wasn't sure the spiked drink would be any help in soothing my parched throat. "Ryan, babe," Callie giggled, her eyes wide and amused, "You sure you can handle all that?"
"Oh please," I said as I took a sip.
"That's gay for 'yes'," Benny said loudly to Marcus, who chuckled. "Ah, we love a good bottom."
I choked on my drink, and Isaac and Callie burst into laughter.
So yeah, prom was great.
Almost as great at what happened afterward, when Isaac and I returned to my house to find it empty, a note from my dad on the fridge saying, "We're at Lonnie's house. We were teenagers too once. We know what happens on prom night. Just be safe about it."
All I'll say is that it was an epic way to end an epic night, and that Benny was a very intuitive little man.
I was on such a happy high for the next few days that I wasn't even bothered to go back to school and find that some headass had written a few not-so-nice words on my locker. As a matter of fact, Isaac and I laughed about it for a solid ten minutes. Benny was right--we just had to own it. And with him always around as the newest face in our queer little friend group--it seemed some kind of permanent bond had formed at prom--we couldn't forget it for a second.
13 Months Later
I kept my cool in the courtroom. My butt stayed planted to my seat, and I settled for a polite clap. Beside me on my left, I could see my dad putting on his best mature adult face, as he liked to call it, and on his left, Lonnie struggling to do the same, though she hadn't been able to keep the tears from escaping her eyes. Callie, sat on my right, looked about ready to burst, and next to her, Benny Cormack was clutching his lucky bow-tie and grinning like an idiot.
On the other side of the gallery sat two frustrated, disappointed families. Andy Anderson looked like he was holding back a string of profanities.
Across the bar was the defendants' table, where three people sat. Calum Berkeley, Luke Freeman, and their lawyer, looking agitated and glum.
Then there was Isaac, sat next to his lawyer--the prosecutor--at the plaintiff's table, smiling in a subdued way, trying to remain respectable when I could see in his eyes that he wanted to jump onto the table and start dancing.
It seemed like a million years ago that I'd crossed the dividing bar, leaving the gallery to sit in the witness stand next to the judge, trying my best not to stutter as I told my story, working to keep my cool under the strain of questions asked by the defending lawyer.
Then my part had been over and I'd been back sitting in the gallery next to Lonnie, Callie, Benny, and my dad.
More questions for both parties. The most stressful minutes of my life, as the jury disappeared into their chamber for what felt like a century. The verdict.
After over a year of struggling through the tedious lawsuit process and five days of trial in this very courtroom, finally there came a decision. Guilty.
We remained calm within the room, even down the hall and out of the building. I didn't even flip Calum off as I so, so dearly wanted to.
The moment we stepped outside, the act fell.
I jumped onto Isaac's back, nearly toppling him over, as Callie let out an ear-splitting screech of victory that I could only hope couldn't be heard inside, though I was fairly certain that it could be heard somewhere in northern Russia. Benny--who was now Callie's roommate in their apartment over by Colorado State University, and had remained a best friend to Isaac and I ever since prom--was jumping around and dancing to his own screaming rendition of The Edge of Glory by Lady Gaga. Lonnie broke down completely, sobbing and cheering and nearly collapsing had my dad not been there to steady her. I absolutely could not, for the life of me, stop showering my boyfriend--who was running in circles with me on his back singing Eye of the Tiger--with kisses.
It was a while until any semblance of calm returned.
A long while.
And we probably—definitely—looked like an asylum breech to all of the passing pretentious people in their suits and pencil-skirts, but we'd earned a moment of crazy after the whirlwind the last year had been.
We won. Isaac won. I said this from the start and I'd say it again: he deserved it.
Later that evening, when we were all crammed into a booth at Red Lobster, waiting for our bill and stuffed to the brink after a celebratory meal, I leaned my head onto Isaac's shoulder, feeling like I could've fallen asleep right there. The others were engaged in some happy conversation or another, but I was content enough to just sit there using my boyfriend as a cushion.
I felt an arm wrap around my shoulder and tilted my head just enough to see Isaac smiling down at me, his grey eyes amused.
"Sleepy?" he asked.
As if to answer his question, I yawned, and he laughed. "So, mister," I said, pushing an index finger against his chest; I could hear the drowsiness in my own voice. It would be so nice to just cuddle up in our little dorm at CU right now, fall asleep to some music . . .
That wouldn't happen, though. We still had one more important thing to do before we could make the three-hour drive back to Denver.
"You can finally take that thing off," I finished. Isaac chuckled, pulling me a little closer, and said,
"Thank god. I think if I have to wear it for another week I might lose the rest of my leg, too."
I laughed softly, placing a kiss on the small patch of skin between his neck and the neckline of his shirt. His temporary prosthetic had been bothering him a lot for the past month or so; it wasn't meant to be worn for so long.
Now that we'd won the case, he and his mom could work together to buy the permanent leg knowing that the money would come back to them soon.
"I'm happy for you," I whispered, shutting my eyes. I felt Isaac's fingers on my jaw for a moment, then on my hand, lifting it and pressing it to his lips. And I was smiling, for no reason except that he made me very, very smiley.
"I'm happy for me, too," I added, because past me would never have pictured myself entering my second year of college out and proud, happier than I'd ever been, with a boy I loved so much it hurt. A boy who I'd been dating for over a year now, who I was sure I wanted to marry sometime in the future, who had gone through so much but never forgot to make me feel more valued than I'd ever thought one person could make me feel.
Maybe Isaac could tell where my mind had wandered to, because the next thing he said was, "You know when it all started for me?"
I opened my eyes to see him staring at our hands, rubbing circles against my knuckles with his thumb. "When?"
"Well of course, there was the initial oh god he's cute the first time you smiled at me in Hagsburg's class," he said, and I chuckled at the memory of our witch of a macroeconomics teacher, Mrs. Pragsburg. "But the real moment for me was . . . do you remember the first duet we did together?"
"I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend," I sang quietly. Isaac nodded, smiling.
"I realized I was crushing when I thought to myself, I wouldn't mind if this song actually applied to us," he admitted.
"And now it does," I mused.
"And now it does," Isaac repeated. He kissed the tip of my nose, his hand squeezing mine. "So yeah, I'm happy for me, too."
Across the table, I heard a groan that could've only come from Callie. "Just buy the rings already," she grumbled in a way that anyone who knew her would know was laced with affection.
"Y'all are giving me diabetes," Benny sighed. "And I already have diabetes."
I stuck my tongue out at them--nineteen years old and still as childish as ever--and said, so that only Isaac could hear, "I'm happy for us."