Prom Night

Dear Readers,

Everything is going according to plan.

-Steve

For a minute, I couldn't help but stare at him. Shock washed over me, intermixed with hurt, as if a needle full of misery had been injected into my veins. Whatever had been built last night was beginning to crumble all around us. It was like watching the 1871 burning of Chicago and being powerless to stop the devastation as it swept across town. There could be nothing that I could say to him that would change the act that he had just completed. Hurt dug into me, and I knew, just like the fire, after this conversation was over, all that would remain would be the bone and fingernails of what was once a pleasant dream.

Then came the wave of anger.

"You're married!" I couldn't help the growl of my voice. It bit into the tension between us, making a heavyset man at a nearby table give us a strange look before returning to his oatmeal. My hands gripped the side of the table with white knuckles, wanting nothing more than to erase all memory of the night before. Casual sex was one thing; casual sex with a married man was another. All I could think of when it came to tampering with a relationship like that was disgust. Disgust with the person breaking the relationship apart and the memory of how my uncle had refused to date again after his wife of fourteen years left him for her coworker.

Regret seemed to drip from James's face. "Technically...engaged. I'm not married yet." He swallowed before continuing. "I'm sorry, please-"

"Oh, great, engaged is so much fucking better!" My voice went lower so no one would hear, and I had trouble keeping the edges of emotion from creeping into it.

"Dominic..." James stared at me pleadingly, "Please, just let me try to elaborate before you castrate me. Then, I swear, any repercussion of this discussion or of last night, I accept full responsibility for..."

I stared at him, uncertain.

Finally, as if he could no longer take my stare anymore, James looked down at the plate of eggs he hadn't touched. "Christ, you'll never believe a word I say, and, Dominic, I don't expect you to. I just need to say this so, regardless of what you ultimately decide to do, you'll at least know how I feel. I accept any consequence that goes with all of this... And although I know I'm the last person that you want to be around right now, I truly am sorry..." He trailed off, eyes meeting my gaze of pure ice again, then continued, "For whatever it's worth."

I stayed staring, feeling the vibrations of the confrontation rattling my bones. Chills raced over me, telling me to do nothing more than to sprint from the hotel. But, instead, I stayed, and I waited for him to go on.

As if seeming to get the cue, James swallowed again and looked back at the tabletop. Then, trying to piece together what words would not set me off further, he pushed his plate away from him and clasped his hands together. "Her name is Caroline... We met in college, and there never seemed to be any huge problems with her. So, I guess, in the end, it was only natural that we should..." He paused, trying to choose the words carefully, and finally gave up, "You know..." Another pause. "But, as you had mentioned before, something was... I don't know."

My sight never left him for a moment, watching the way he struggled with his words and attempted to condense his form and shrivel away.

"Last night wasn't a lie, Dom... It was the first night in months that I felt like I wasn't just doing something because it was safe. I felt...Hell, I don't even know what I felt. But it was real, whatever it was. I should have said something; I'm not going to sugar coat that..." One of his hairy hands went up to rub the scruff around his mouth again, as if James wanted nothing more than to vocalize the best words to describe exactly how he was feeling. "I didn't plan on kissing you; I certainly didn't plan on anything else after that. For me, it was just getting lost in what I felt was..." His voice lowered, "beautiful."

I caught the last word despite his obvious humiliation in admitting last night felt more natural than it did with his own fiancé. I bit my lower lip and looked around the tabletop. I was unsure if I wanted to hear more of it or if he was telling the truth. I found my anger losing intensity, being replaced with more hurt.

A long silence passed between us, and then finally, James went on, "I allowed myself to get lost in last night, and I'm sorry... As soon as I went into the bathroom to wash up last night, I knew I should have told you everything, even before our first kiss. But then it was too late...and now, because of me, I hurt an innocent person. I never wanted to hurt you, although I don't expect you to believe that. And no matter what you decide to do or what consequences I face, I want you to have the best life possible. I want you to be happy, Dominic, because if last night was only the tip of who you are..." A tiny bit of moisture seemed to coat his blue eyes when I found them, as if he were about to cry. I knew he wouldn't be able to go on with that sentence; the hurt in his face was too much. "Whatever you decide to do," he swallowed, "I deserve it. You're well within your right to go to the school board."

The anger flared again, like the fires of Chicago, at the mention of the last sentence. "Are you fucking serious?" I snapped. His blue eyes looked back at me with hurt and remorse. "Are you fucking serious, James? Do you think I'd go to the school board? Do you really think this is about the school board anymore?"

He stared down at the table again, as if he were trying to distance himself. Then, after a long hesitation, he spoke, "I'm just telling you what your options are, Dominic."

"Fuck your school board," I hissed and got up from the table. I couldn't take it anymore, the pain riddling my body with its pin pricks. Before James could respond, I already had my backpack slung over my shoulder and was pushing through the patio doors into the breakfast lounge. I didn't look back as I charged into the lobby to the front desk and checked out. I heard frantic footsteps behind me as I handed over my room key, but it only made me want to leave sooner.

A minute later, I was almost at a run across the parking lot to where I parked my car. In the morning sun, it usually looked like just another powder blue 1989 Plymouth Horizon that was badly in need of more clear-coat on its right front fender. But this morning, it was a sleek rocket ready to blast me away from misery. Fidgeting with the key, I tried to stuff it into the ancient lock and fumbled, noticing for the first time that my hands were shaking.

I could still hear the footsteps rushing, which only served to further motivate me. I tried again, failing, then at last managed to get it in and unlock the car. In a heartbeat, I threw the bag onto the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. I didn't bother with a seatbelt but immediately started it, listening to the motor groan to life. I slammed it into first gear, and with a squeal of the suspension, it was off. While I had rarely stuffed my foot to the floor, the Plymouth responded with surprising quickness, allowing me to shift up into second, then third and fourth until I was punching fifty before I even left the parking lot.

The hills of Destin, Pennsylvania rushed by as I raced the car out of the lot and weaved it in and out of traffic on the two lane road heading away from the corporate parks. Only when I was two miles away, racing past the white block building of my high school did I begin to relax. My heart was pounding, my emotions still churning with confusion.

How could he think of doing that to me?

The question was laden with shards of glass around it, hurting every corner of my mind as it bounced around inside my head.

My Plymouth whined as I shifted down into third, slowing down. I had no wish to be pulled over by the police, especially after the morning I had just had. Instead, I found myself turning onto 19

th

Street, stomping on the brakes to avoid ramming into the rear end of a Prius making a turn into a car dealership. Absentmindedly, I slapped the wheel in my shock.

"'

You're well within your right to go to the school board.

' Are you fucking kidding me?" Anger coursed through my veins at the memory of his words. Since when did this concern anyone but the two of us? And how could he believe that I would be capable of destroying his life? The very idea was a betrayal to the invisible trust that wrapped around us the night before, shattering it like a sledge hammer against a glass bottle.

Well within my right to go to the school board... I fucking should.

As soon as my mind processed the sentence, I regretted it. He had hurt me, yes, but did that make it worth it? When I assessed the pieces of my predicament in my mind, I attempted to set the hurt aside. What I had when I tried was last night, a night that I had... I stopped in my assessment once more; had what? Fallen for him? No, that wasn't logical. It was sex, and in a hotel room, no less. Now, it was sex with a man that was engaged.

Stop that, and look at the facts!

The light turned green, and I let my foot off the clutch. The Horizon yelped and stalled, rocking forward. In my search for some peace of mind, I had forgotten to replace the car back into first gear. Behind me, a Mazda began blaring its horn as I quickly moved the shifter into first, slammed my foot on the clutch, and flipped the key in the ignition. With ease, the Plymouth roared back to life, and I quickly began easing the car forward, paying attention to the drone of the engine telling me when to shift up.

At last, having left the last traffic light behind and motoring down a winding road heading away from town, I began to pick up the pieces of the problem at hand again. It was sex that, I had to admit, was good. No matter what, I couldn't deny it. I believed that even a part of me was attempting to entice him further this morning when I got out of bed naked. For that, I knew, I would never be able to live with myself if I had gone to the school board. Regardless of the fact that I was not the type of person to destroy someone's life, knowing I had enjoyed it and had wanted more, on some level, would intensify the guilt associated with it.

But how much of it was bullshit?

That was the trillion dollar question that needed an answer. Surely, James had seemed true when he attempted to explain himself to me and accept responsibility for his wrongs. But was it a game? I found myself going back to the moments of the past when I had been lied to before in intimate relationships. Kara had been one of the biggest liars of all, and how much different was James from her? Did I switch from an arsenic and tonic last night to a straight shot of cyanide?

Bitterly, I recalled how Kara had told me how badly she was looking forward to the prom with me. She had even made a point of whispering in my ear when I showed up at her house to pick her up that she was wearing something special for me for a very special night. She lied to me, using me as the turn key. And what had James done? He escorted me around the hotel, telling me that he enjoyed the evening. For what? To tell me that he was getting married.

They were the same, both of them. Regardless of how different James seemed on the outside, he was still the same bitch that Kara was.

They come in all different packages with different names, but they're all the same.

I slammed the gearshift into fourth, and the Plymouth groaned as it accelerated.

The game was over.

***

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Handled that one nicely, didn't you!

James Monaco's mind screamed at him as he watched his hurt student storm away from the table. The last thing he had wanted to do was to upset Dominic even more than he had already. Knowing that he had made him feel worse than before. For a moment, James sat in the aftermath of his own wrongdoing, trying to piece together how swiftly the air had changed since his time with his student last night.

He should never have slept with the boy; that much was true. Not only was his career now over, James knew he had hurt someone who was completely innocent. Noting this, they were consequences he would have to live with. He could not go back. No matter how many times he apologized or tried to accept further responsibility, James knew that there was nothing he could do. That fact alone was enough to disgust himself. He buried his face in his hands, elbows on the table top to support himself.

What the hell made you think it was okay?

The question pounded away at his brain, until James could not help but admit that he didn't try to convince himself last night that it was. He tried to rationalize how he was blind to thinking about the woman who would become his wife soon, but the only answer that his mind found was that there was no thought. Instead, there was something- he didn't know what- deep rooted within himself that found Dominic's kiss to be like sugar to a child- addictive and, at the same time, a fuel source for the heart. From the moment their lips met, James was under a spell without a name that crossed the boundaries of years and professionalism and even sexual orientation. It was...what? Need? It couldn't be.

What the fuck else do you call it, scumbag?

He didn't know. He only knew that it couldn't stop there. Raising his face from his hands, he quickly got to his feet and began walking inside. At first, his steps were hesitant, and on some level, James understood that he was crossing into further unknown territory. He passed some of the tables, jacket in hand, allowing this to sink in.

Feet heavy, they seemed to want to scream at him to stop. Tell him that he had done enough damage already. But another part of him, far away and almost a whisper in its volume compared to the voices of his conscience that he normally followed, told him to move faster.

He did.

Foot by foot, his trail to the patio doors and then to the lobby began moving faster all around him as his pace quickened. By the time he reached the lobby, he was almost at a dead run. The blue eyes that now registered with such hurt at knowing the destruction he caused spotted Dominic. He began rushing towards him, the others in the lobby seeming to melt away as his subconscious desire to be close to the boy, to attempt to comfort him, and to console the wrong he had done, took over.

Weaving between guests as best he could, James rushed after the boy he hurt. His mind pounded with trying to figure out what he would say- what he could say without worsening the situation. But, try as he may, nothing came to mind. Clumsily, James bumped into a woman on her cell phone and almost collided with an elderly man in a wheelchair. He tried to focus on keeping himself from causing mayhem, but his mind was a blur of thoughts. The image of Dom's face haunted his memory, making a crystal clear vision of the fact that nothing would be the same after this.

Before he could stop himself or attempt to call out to him, James was running across the parking lot, watching as the figure of the eighteen-year-old boy climbed into a powder blue Plymouth. He was halfway across the lot when he heard its rickety engine cough to life and start off. At first, James was sure he might be able to catch it. But then, the car was leaping into action, its compact four-door body cornering like it was on rails, rocketing into the main aisle and toward the entrance of the hotel parking lot.

Sighing, he slowed and finally stopped, watching the rusted blue blur disappear into the haze of traffic on Freeman's Street. His heart sank, knowing that not only had Dom been hurt but that he no longer wished to see him at all, even platonically. It was as if his bundle of nerves were being twisted until his stomach yelled "uncle" and could no longer stand to look at it. Frustrated, he threw his suit jacket to the ground and turned back to the hotel, blue eyes searching for any window on the third floor that might have been theirs'. But why? It didn't matter anymore; last night had changed something within him but had been swiftly strangled by his own stupidity.

If you try, you can probably still catch him. Get to the car!

The strange voice of his mind seemed to scream at him, until he was unaware that he had fished the key to his 2007 Jeep Sahara out of his pocket. He looked down at the mix of black plastic and shiny metal, turning it over in his hand. He wanted to drive after him and ignore all the traffic laws. But he stopped himself and, instead, after a long pause of allowing the pain to wash over him, carefully picked up the suit jacket and stalked across the lot to his own car. Normally, the dark green hardtop was overlooked and considered average sized. But now, it seemed larger, just the way an angry parent appears to a teenager during a heated confrontation.

He got in the car and tossed the jacket onto the passenger seat without a care. On any given day, taking care of it would have mattered to him. Today, it did not, as it was a symbol of his wrong. He sat there, allowing how frivolous that symbol was now. Ever since his time student teaching, it was the coat that suggested business to him. It separated him from the rest of the world, commanding respect. Now, it was just a jacket, dusted from the parking lot and wrinkled from the night before. No longer did it command respect; it insulted his soul.

James was not sure what he could ever do for Dom to let him see that all he had told him was true. Disturbingly, a part of him knew that he might not be able to convince him. Regardless of this, James still felt the need to try.

Tough luck, fucker.

He cursed himself. Why had he been so blind to the consequences of his actions? How could he be so careless as to not think about the bigger picture? Caroline. The name was a knife to his ribcage in knowing how he had let her down too after making a commitment. After all, James was her man; she had told him enough times to make it clear. Last night, regardless of how right it may have felt, was a violation of that.

Still, it seemed far away right now, despite his inability to assess why.

The truth seemed, James knew deep down, whether he wanted to admit it or not, that he had been living a life of safety. It was a truth that scared him when it entered in his mind. But, trying to debate it, he could found himself powerless to discredit it. There had been something missing as Dominic had suggested, for the past few weeks, and it scared him to no end. Was he making the correct choices?

Sitting in the silent car, James pondered this. He had been seeing Caroline since college; they met at a gathering at the Carlton student center through a group of friends. They had found each other equally stimulating, intellectually and had quickly developed a relationship. Despite his time having dated off and on throughout high school and his first year of college, Caroline remained to be James's longest relationship. She was well accepted and liked by his family, and her parents treated James like the son they never had. So, what was the problem?

James could not be certain, but something within him had felt emotionally uncomfortable when Caroline asked him during their fourth year together if he would want to get married. He couldn't understand what had brought on this feeling; Caroline was a wonderful person. It had kept him up for two nights after they discussed it, until James chalked it up to normal nervous tension with change. For a while, it seemed to disappear entirely, until a few weeks ago when it began to creep back into his mind. James had been feeling terrible for keeping such feelings inside. They were poison inside of him, and he wished they would diminish again.