Prom Night

Dear Readers,

It all has been building to this. For almost ten years of sticking by me and reading every chapter, I'm very grateful for all of you taking the time to read. I truly hope all of you enjoy how it ends as much as I've enjoyed writing this story. As this was the best way I could think to end it.

There's also one last Stevie Nicks song I used to help tell the story; that's cited at the end.

Thanks again,

Steve

Prom Night: Chapter 09

Throughout my relationship with James Monaco, I learned a lot. Some of it was about my sexuality and what kind of relationship I wanted with another man. But another part of that—perhaps a darker part—was that I learned that I can keep a secret. Or, at least, the extent of which I can keep a secret. Because there are some secrets which are better left untold...and there are some which probably should be revealed, if only for the sake of being a fair and good person.

There are plenty of things I've never told a soul. And there are plenty of things I probably should have told someone about, if only to prevent one secret from becoming a catastrophic secret. The kind of thing that can hurt.

I thought about such things throughout most of the day on Tuesday. Concluding for the millionth time that, when it came down to it, a relationship should never fall into either of those categories. Because, when it came down to it, a relationship was only a union of two people who want to see if they can build a life together. And if something so precious could be so beautiful, why should it ever be kept secret?

James and I had done more than our fair share of secret keeping. And while it made me feel bad thinking I had been having a relationship with a soon-to-be married man and lying to a lot of people about it...I also couldn't help feeling like it was beyond both of us. Like some kind of unstoppable force between the two of us drawing each other together, no matter how much we may have wanted to be good people.

It could never have worked like that. Because, like I said, a relationship should never be a secret when it's two people who care about each other. To make it work would have taken effort and rectifying some of the lies and wrongs we committed.

But for whatever moral high ground I could take musing such things out to myself as I listened to Stevie Nicks or spent hours at my keyboard typing...I was human. That meant allowing a piece of my heart to hold out hope for some kind of miracle. The kind of ending only John Hughes could write.

I skipped the last class with James. As awkward as things had been the day before—Monday—something about our uncomfortable exchange together kind of wrapped it up too neatly for me. I didn't want to sit through another class hoping for a smile or an indication that he missed me or even a goodbye. I just wanted to accept the circumstances for what they were and let him go to live his life with his future wife. Because I had already done more than enough to fuck with his handsome head, just as he had done more than enough to fuck with mine.

So instead of class, I took a stroll around part of the school. The security guards were as relaxed as the students, and they knew I was a good enough student that they didn't bother to ask me for a hall pass. A few of them waved, and I waved back. Walking alone with my thoughts, remembering that all of this had started with a short walk on prom night—what felt like centuries ago.

We weren't bad people. We were just two men who cared so much about each other that we couldn't help ourselves. And that was a problem because we got to know each other at the wrong time. And in a way that made the future impossible for us.

It would all change tomorrow night. With today as the last day of school, I knew I'd be walking across the football field tomorrow night starting the next chapter my life—as a single, gay high school graduate. All I had to do was hang on a little longer; it wasn't far to the finish line.

The halls were deserted. My footsteps were barely a whisper as I strolled past the various rooms with their doors shut, the sounds of movies being played muffled behind many of them. I passed the library and neared the gymnasium, the sun bright through the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out upon the neatly manicured shrubs along the building. And across the student lot, I could see the football stadium—looming with its steel bleachers like a great coliseum where the jocks battled every fall.

I wondered how many football games had been won and lost in that arena. I wondered how many people had trudged across the fifty-yard line to accept their diplomas. All of them were people who would probably rarely return, because that's just how high school was. Another hurdle and another gateway into adulthood, where kids attended to participate in some kind of mock rehearsal for life. Getting assignments in on time as they would eventually get tasks done at future jobs. Making and breaking both friendships and romantic relationships as they might as adults.

And once it was over, they scattered to the winds. Maybe they'd be back once or twice for a reunion here or there. But it was never quite the same because they were older and different people now than back then. Because no matter how many memories were made or experiences lived, high school was never quite as it was back in the day—back when the worst that could happen was getting detention for something stupid or being the butt of some ridiculous joke.

I stood there watching the world outside, knowing that after tomorrow I'd never know high school the way I'd known it now. And knowing there would probably come a time when I would forget some of the rougher points between James and I—that the hurts I knew would be lost in the memory dust of time passing. I didn't want to forget him or the love we had, no matter how brief it was, but like David Bowie had once sung, I knew I couldn't change the passage of time. So I tried to smile, while I started to cry.

***

Dominic Anderson wasn't the only one feeling the weight of the last day of school. While James Monaco knew his student was in the school since he saw him in the halls earlier that morning, he couldn't help but find himself staring once again at that empty chair. Knowing it meant Dominic had probably skipped his class—and only his class—on purpose.

As he let the class watch as much as they could see of

Raiders of the Lost Ark

because he didn't feel like trying to maintain the ruse of teaching any longer, James considered calling the Front Office to radio for Security to find him. But it was the last day of school and the last day before Dom graduated. The rest of the class didn't really notice his absence, and Harrison Ford couldn't have cared less as he ran for his life from an enormous boulder. So, he let it go.

His mind was too filled with memories of his former younger lover to do much of anything. His ears still rang with the words of their exchange yesterday—when Dom had addressed him by his teacher name again. It was all over, he knew, and in the end, Dom had given James exactly everything he could to ensure his protection. After graduation tomorrow night, there would be nothing more to worry about. And with the weight of that setting in, James knew it all meant one thing. That Dominic truly loved him.

This thought followed him the rest of the day and all through the night and even through the next day. It wasn't a fearful thought at all, like many of his thoughts had been, but a guilty thought. Knowing he'd messed things up with the one person who actually made him happy. Someone James knew would have stopped at nothing to do his share of building a fulfilling life with him.

James was safe, but at what cost? His own misery. And somehow, that empty chair only amplified it when he thought back on it. Knowing that his future would be filled with many of those Dominic-less moments, all of which might as well have been the equivalent of an empty chair.

"I really fucked up, didn't I?" He concluded when he'd finished confiding this to Toby on Wednesday evening.

Toby yawned, perched on James's lap. And while he said nothing, his feline gaze kept returning to the front door, looking for the other man he adored.

"I wish you could talk, old boy." He forced a smile. It faded quickly. "If only just to have someone to talk to...who talks back."

The cat mewed.

"Very funny," James laughed. "Can you put that into words?"

Toby looked at the door and then back at James.

"I love him, Toby."

Again, the cat looked at the door, then back at his owner.

"Yeah...I'm a shit."

And as if in reply, the playful feline leaned up towards James's face...and playfully swatted at his cheek.

"Noted." James said quietly.

He looked at the time; it was 4:53PM.

***

The rumble of Todd's big diesel pickup could be heard coming from the end of the road. I sat on the front porch steps with my graduation gown still on its hanger under its cover of cellophane, a mixture of emotions running through me as my mind wandered through the oncoming evening's events. I listened as the rumble changed in pitch with every shift in gears when he swung into the driveway and eased up to park behind my Plymouth. And the sound was welcoming, chasing away some of the unenthusiasm.

"How's it doing?" Todd grinned when he climbed out of the truck. He was dressed in the closest thing to a suit my mother could convince him to wear—a red button down and his best black jeans.

I forced a smile. "Better now."

His plastic sunglasses were dark enough to hide his eyes, but I felt them on me. He opened his mouth to say something when the front door opened behind me.

"I don't understand why I need to wear long sleeves," my father protested. "It's almost ninety degrees outside."

"It's your son's graduation." My mother waved him off. "Do you really want to look back on the family photos and see everyone dressed nice while you look like you should be on a beach somewhere?"

"If it means not sweating my ass off, maybe." He laughed.

I didn't look back to see their argument, but I could imagine my mother's eyes rolling. Out of my parents, she was always the more stylish of the two when it came to social gatherings. She might have been able to get dirty working long hours in the garden and kick back afterwards with my father over a beer, but when it came to special occasions like weddings and graduations, she made Martha Stewart look like a slob.

"Can I at least roll the sleeves up?"

"No," she insisted, "You look great."

Todd started laughing. I just shook my head.

My father came down off the porch, but when I didn't move at first, he turned back. Looking from me to Todd. "Are we all ready to go?"

I nodded. "Definitely."

But before I got up, my mother took a seat on the steps beside me. "Actually, there's something we should all talk about while it's just family." She put her arm around me and drew me in close. I could smell that same sweet perfume she'd been using since I was a kid—the kind of scent that became classic of her at celebrations. And I wished I had felt like celebrating the way she did. "Recently, Todd, Dominic shared with us something very personal about himself—something very special—"

"Mom—"

"—and we told him that he should also tell you, in all fairness." My mother smiled at both of us. I looked down at the cellophane covering my green graduation gown, wishing I could just go to my room. "So, Dominic, why don't you tell Todd?"

"Mom—" I started again.

"Actually," Todd came to my rescue, "we talked last night. He came out to me. We're cool, right, bro?" His gaze never left me when I met it, the black void of his sunglasses imploring me to play along.

I opened my mouth to talk, stopped, and finally managed. "That's what I was trying to tell you, Mom."

"Oh," she laughed. "I'm sorry, then, I just want you to know that we love you and that we're proud of you. No matter what, baby."

"No matter what?" I turned to her.

She smiled. "No matter what."

I felt worse than ever.

But if Todd had saved me once in that hour, he saved me again when he asked if I wanted to drive over to the high school with him and let our parents take a separate car. I gladly accepted. I could count on one hand the number of times I'd ridden shotgun in his rusted Dodge 3500. And I knew today his reasoning wasn't just because I was graduating from high school in forty-five minutes.

My mother's station wagon led the way, and when there were probably four car-lengths between us, Todd finally broke the silence. "He dumped you, didn't he?"

"It was kind of mutual."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Actually..." I paused. "Yeah." And then I let it all loose, holding back nothing in the same way I hadn't held back on paper. Todd listened while we drove, stopping only once or twice to ask for clarification, and then when it was through, we were silent for a minute or two.

"I'm really sorry, Dom," he finally said.

"It is what it is."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it any less difficult, does it?"

"True. I guess part of me keeps hoping he'll come back." I picked at the cellophane, the happy green of the graduation gown almost mocking me.

"Maybe he will, though."

"And maybe he won't." I countered.

"Probably not," he offered, "in all honesty...I mean."

I nodded.

"But...if he can't accept himself and can't even try, does he deserve you?"

I thought for a while, watching the houses pass by. Some of them had signs in their yards done up in my school's colors congratulating seniors. Finally, I said, "He doesn't. That's kind of why I walked out that night, I guess."

"Exactly. This dude needs to show you effort if he's going to be with you."

I nodded, all my thoughts and re-thoughts from the week confirmed.

"And if he can't show you effort, he shouldn't be with you."

"You're right. Love is only good if there's effort and consistency behind it."

"That's right." Todd nodded. He downshifted the Dodge, and as if in agreement, the large hulk of steel gave a growl of its own. "So, I'm guessing Mom and Dad still have no clue, right?"

I stared at him. "Do you think I've gone completely batshit?"

My older brother laughed. "Fair. I just want to make sure this isn't going to get out of hand."

"It's already way out of hand."

"You can say that again." He shook his head. "So, as much as it sucks, I think the best thing—if you really love him—is to do what it sounds like you've been doing. Let it go, let him go, and take this to the grave."

I forced a smile. "That's exactly what I plan to do."

"Good."

It was 5:15PM.

***

By five-thirty, James couldn't stop staring at the clock. Without meaning to, he found himself pacing around his apartment. His mind a complete wreck of conflicting emotions and conflicting logic. This was all so wrong. He was wrong. And now, he'd not only lost the love of his life but would probably never see him again. Yes, they might have lived in the same town, but it was more than likely they wouldn't run into each other. And then when Dominic went off to college, what then? He'd be even further away.

Only a half hour to go before the graduation ceremony started. If he quickly changed clothes and freshened up a little...

What are you thinking?

His mind stopped cold.

He wouldn't want to see you anyway. He made that clear when he skipped his last class with you. And what would you say, anyway? Goodbye? Good luck? Forget it,

the rational side of his brain demanded.

But in the same way he knew that such reasoning was logical, James understood it was also a voice that spoke in fear. It came from a place of wanting to blend in instead of being different, of being gay.

He loved Dominic. If he was honest with himself, James loved him more than he'd thought he could fall in love with someone. And while that scared him because it was so unique and happened so quickly, his gut told him that missing the graduation would be the worst mistake of his life. That this was the one chance to at least say goodbye.

But you could go to prison,

that same rationale spoke to him. Because, while Dominic might have loved him enough not to tell, his parents would surely be there at the ceremony. He'd already gambled enough with his future; did he really want to continue?

James wished he knew.

He looked at the clock again. It was 5:41 PM.

***

Procession was a blink. I didn't really recall lining up alphabetically or even forming the rows our instructors had made us practice the day before. It was all just a blur because I didn't want to be there. There was nothing left for me at my high school, so why the hell should I care?

But that didn't stop my participation. They herded us onto the field and then into our rows, where we sat in unison—just as they showed us—and listened as our fearless principal, superintendent, and finally, our guest speaker droned on through their pleasantries. Just as rehearsed.

"Go forth and conquer"... "Someday we're going to hear magnificent things from all of you"... "Believe in yourself"... "Follow your dreams"...

I swear I never heard as many awkward attempts to be inspiring as under that hot ass sun. The humidity squeezing every joy out of us as we sat and fiddled with our graduation gowns. Joking and laughing but trying not to be too obvious about it.

Finally, when our class president finished her speech, someone broke out the beach ball. A few of my classmates got in a couple of fun hits till our school security guard intercepted. He wandered behind the stage with it where he popped it with one of his keys. So much for a little comic relief.

I looked at my phone.

It was almost six-thirty.

***

By the time he'd made up his mind—really made it up and got his keys—it was just after six-fifteen. And while the drive to the high school wasn't far, James Monaco was propelled forward. He didn't know why or what he was going to do. He wasn't thinking. But there was a sense of urgency in this moment that couldn't be ignored. He had to see Dominic.

Even if it was the last time he'd see him, James didn't care. He needed one chance to at least say goodbye—to at least say the things which were chewing him up. If it was over, that was fine. But at least when he was old and gray, he could say that he tried. Really tried.

"Get the fuck out of the way!" James beeped the horn at the car in front of him. And when it break-checked him, he passed on the double yellow line. Making the sign of the cross—something he hadn't done since he was a kid—in the hope a cop wouldn't pull him over. When he jammed his foot to the floor of the Jeep, it gave a growl as it leapt into action. And suddenly, the other car was behind him and growing smaller in the rear-view mirror.

His eyes caught a look at himself in the rear-view just before he turned back to the road. James looked like hell. He was still in his work clothes, although his tie was loosened to mid-chest. And he hadn't even shaved that morning. What the hell was he doing?

He didn't know.

His heart was racing, and he was firing on pure adrenaline. But it was the most alive he'd ever felt because—even if it would hurt—he would get to see the man he loved one last time. James took a deep breath as he passed yet another car—this one having had enough sense to get out of the way long before the big Jeep was right on its bumper.

The road ahead was closed for construction. Without a thought, he whipped onto the nearest side-road and opened his phone to Google maps. Looking for a way to reroute. If he could just get there as fast as possible...