“Yes, Melvin?”
“Yeah, well, Mr. Bernal, I guess you could say Jane Eyre is a feminist because already as a child she starts challenging social norms by asserting her independence and questioning authority.” Xavi nodded, trying to squish the smile currently threatening to take over his entire face. It was times like these where he just felt like jumping into the air, screaming from the top of his lungs,This is why I fucking teach!It was magic, pure and simple, when words written hundreds of years ago resonated with today’s youth. When Charlotte Brontë’s words transcended time and space and became as alive and vibrant as the day they’d been written.
“Yes! Exactly, Melvin. Are there any specific places in the book where the author shows this?” Melvin nodded eagerly as he started reading a passage from the book. The classroom was quiet, everyone’s attention on Melvin as his high voice rose and dipped with Charlotte Brönte’s profound and epic words.
“Thank you, Melvin,” Xavi said as he moved to the other side of the classroom. “Any comments, guys? Anything that springs to mind?” Hands rose across the classroom, at least seven or eight students wanting to participate in the discussion, and once again, Xavi’s chest swelled with pride. These were kids from his ownneighborhood with working-class backgrounds, second- and third-generation immigrants. These kids were going places, making their hard-working parents proud. They were—despite the ridiculous lack of social mobility in their country—demanding a place in the world, asserting themselves just like Jane Eyre had almost two hundred years ago. Many of them were already looking at colleges, filling out applications, and applying for loans.
“Meera?” Xavi’s gaze settled on a girl in the third row, and she pumped her fist victoriously while Manny, two rows behind her, mumbledcoño. Xavi shook his head, laughing. “You’ll get your chance, Manny.”
“I always do, Mr. Bernal,” Manny tipped his chin and winked. He was the class Casanova, with his big dark doe eyes and full lips.
Focusing back on the third row, he nodded. “Meera, please go ahead.”
“Yes. We can also see feminist traits in Jane’s relationship with Rochester.” She bit her lip as she looked down at her papers.
“That’s right. How so?” Xavi had always taught his students to back up their analysis with arguments, with proof, which was why they always did exceptionally well on tests compared to their peers.
“Because she finds a balance of equality in her relationship with Rochester. She secures her own independence financially but also on a personal level by realizing her own worth, and that makes her an equal partner to Rochester despite her coming from a different social class and being a woman.”
Now, Xavi did in fact jump just a little, as a massive smile took over his entire face. “Yes! Yes, exactly! You’re spot on. Thank you, Meera.” The girl blushed adorably, just like she had the week prior when she’d shown him the essay for her college application and he’d compared her writing to that of Bobbie Ann Mason. Meera was applying to Columbia, and Xavi had no doubt she’d get in.
Checking the wall clock, Xavi clapped his hands together. “Good work today, class. I think you’re really starting to understand how we can still apply literary works likeJane Eyreto today’s societal discourse.” Leaning against his desk, he folded his arms across his chest as he took in his students, ready to sprint out of class the minute he dismissed them. Xavi’s kids didn’t abide by any school clock; no, they waited for him to dismiss them. “Just one more thing before you go,” he smiled, and they all started moaning, expecting homework or Xavi announcing an upcoming quiz. “Calm down,” he chuckled. “So, my friend is in a play down atDa Luxin Allentown. You guys know the movie. It’sVictor/Victoria.” They’d watched it last semester, and most of his class had loved it and the discussions regarding gender identity it had led to. “Tonight’s opening night, so if you wanna stop by, it’d be amazing. The play starts at eight.” There were a few head nods, and some typed it into their phones. “Okay, that’s it. Great work today.”
There was the eager screeching of chairs and laughter as his students scrambled out of class, before the classroom was once again quiet. Xavi was done for the day. He was planning on hitting the gym before going grocery shopping. Then tonight he’d get to watch Lulu dance and sing, which was just about his favorite thing in the world, but also a level of hell that bore no resemblance.
They were twenty minutes into the show when Lulu entered the stage with a group of seven other dancers. In true nightclub singer fashion, they were dressed in tight corsets on top of black leotards, black fishnet stockings, and the highest heels Xavi had ever seen. How Lulu could dance in shoes like that blew his mind. It looked good, though, the way Lulu’s long legs went on for miles and miles, olive skin peeking through the holes in his stockings, to end in those black stilettos.
Lulu was all the way to the right, as the dancers swayed to the lazy, seductive tones of a piano and a saxophone making love. Although Lulu only held the role of a minor character, he stole the show from the moment he entered the stage and started moving. He always did, and Xavi wasn’t all too surprised his friend had gotten himself a stalker. He was fucking breathtaking, with his black hair swept away from his face by a sparkling diamond headband, his huge almond eyes even bigger under the bright stage lights, smoky eyeshadow surrounding them.
Then the dancers started singing, rotating around the stage, twirling amongst each other, slender arms floating through the air, like the wings of exotic birds. Black swans, perhaps. A dizziness spread through Xavi’s body as he tried to keep track of Lulu in the hypnotic blur of black, until the dancers eventually gathered in the middle, forming a closed circle. The music stopped, and the lights dimmed, as the entire audience seemed to be holding their breath right along with Xavi, his lungs struggling for air. Then the circle broke, the dancers scattering across the stage, disappearing behind the red velvet curtain, leaving only a sole dancer left in the middle of the stage under the spotlight.
When the dancer started singing, Xavi felt like he was being reborn, just like he did every time Lulu sang.The boy who came out of the fire, the older people in the neighborhood used to call Xavi, their voices filled with awe, when he, Abe, and their mother had first moved in with histias. That’s how Xavi felt now, and every time Lulu sang, like he’d just walked out of the fire, his body still humming, itching from the aftermath of the flames, his lungs still battling to catch that elusive life-giving breath of air. Because that was what Lulu was to Xavi, what he wouldalwaysbe to him; as important as the air in Xavi’s lungs.
Caressing every syllable, Lulu swayed seductively to the music, his voice deep and sultry, lazy and sexy, as his gaze found Xavi’s in the crowd.Da Luxwas a small venue, and Lulu had reserved a spot for Xavi right in the middle, three rows from the stage. When their eyes locked onto each other, Xavi’s breath got caught in his throat, burning him up from the inside with a desire so deep, he nearly bolted from his seat. Digging his fingers into the armrests, he somehow withstood his urge to run. On nights like these, it felt like this beautiful creature was singing just for him, and in a make-believe world where Xavi wasn’t scarred and broken, perhaps it could’ve been so. Perhaps Lulu could’ve been his, and the words ofMr. Sandmancurrently floating from Lulu’s lips toward Xavi could’ve been meant for him, Lulu’s frail chest rising and falling with as much longing as Xavi felt.
Lulu continued to sing, oblivious to what he was doing to Xavi.Oblivious.Xavi had no idea how he’d managed it over the years; hiding the truth from Lulu, but somehow he had. It took all his strength, obviously, but somehow he’d managed. Joe knew, of course. He’d known since that awful night in the hospital when the truth had been written across Xavi’s face in bright neon letters:he’s my entire world.There’s nothing without him.Over the years, Joe had urged him to come clean and confess his feelings to Lulu, but something had always held Xavi back. No, notsomething. His scarred, broken body held him back. How could Lulu ever want him like that, like a lover, fervently and passionately, when Xavi could barely look at himself in the full-length mirror in his bedroom?
On the stage, Lulu suddenly disappeared, swallowed up by a black blur. The other dancers were back, circling him, hiding him from Xavi, until he reemerged, two other dancers carrying him on their shoulders to the front of the stage, like an offering to Xavi. Their beautiful voices merged into a choir, singing of the same kind of longing that currently flowed through Xavi’s body. “‘Mr. Sandman, bring us a dream.’”A dream.“‘Give him a pair of eyes with a come-hither gleam.’”Come-hither.“‘Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci.’”A lonely heart.
Xavi brushed his hands along his face, the words blending together. He knew something had to give. He couldn’t continue like this, living in this torturous limbo between friendship and desire, desire and friendship. It was becoming unbearable. Even more so now that Joe wasn’t always there, acting as a buffer betweenthem.
“‘Mr. Sandman, someone to hold,’” the alluring voices rolled over him like a siren’s call.Someone.There had to be someone out there. Someone for him. Someone he could be happy with. Content. Someone who could be to him what Noah was to Joe. A realistic kind of love and not just this back and forth, this push and pull between hope and disappointment.
“‘Would be so peachy before we’re too old.’”Old.Xavi would be thirty soon. He’d loved Lulu for nearly twenty years, leading nowhere, only kidding himself, delusional. Hoping, wishing, dreaming for something that would never happen. Lulu would never want him. Not the way Xavi wanted him to.
“‘So please turn on your magic beam.’” The spotlights zeroed in on Lulu, still perched on the shoulders of the two other dancers, unattainable. Untouchable.
“‘Mr. Sandman, bring us, please, please, please.’” The dream—because it was a dream, just a dream, would never be anything more—of him and Lulu together started dissolving before his very eyes in a blur of tears as the music faded into the background.
“‘Mr. Sandman, bring us a dream.’” It was only ever just a dream. An illusion. It was only ever in the movies that the beast got the beauty, not in real life.
The theater erupted around him as Lulu took a bow center stage, flanked by the other dancers. Like an epiphany, the truth surfaced inside Xavi at the same moment. He had to move on. He didn’t know how, not yet, but he had to move on. He just had to get through these next eight days with Lulu, then he’d move on. It was time. It had been for a while now. It was time.
Chapter Six
Lulu
Opening night had been a raving success. They were sold out, and the small theater was filled to the brim. Weaving through the crowd, accepting congratulatory cheek kisses, with words likestunning, amazing,andbreathtakingflying toward him, Lulu was only searching for one person in the sea of people. Only one person’s praise mattered, had ever mattered, really. After all, that song had been for Xavi, his best friend, the man of his dreams, hisoso. At least, Lulu had sung the words like he and Xavi were the only two people in the theater, in the world.
