I don’t have time to deal with that, so I signal to the band.My stomach is trying to slither out my asshole now, but I get up on the stage and stand in front of the mic and pat myself down, and that’s when I realize I don’t have my cards.
My mind goes blank.
For a few seconds, I stare out into the semi-dark of shadows and purple light.People are starting to look toward the stage, wondering why the music stopped, but the sounds of conversation and laughter continue.
I can’t getoffthe stage now, not without saying something, but since I don’t have my cards, the best I can come up with is “Excuse me.”
A couple of people look over at me.Most of them keep doing what they’re doing.
“Excuse—”
A whistle cuts through the night.Gray’s standing near the stage, and as he takes his fingers out of his mouth, he grins at me.
And just like that, it’s easy.
“Good evening,” I say.“I’m so glad you’re here tonight.As you know, the Wahredua Intimate / Sexual Partner Violence Initiative is hosting this Greek Life outreach, and we’re happy you joined us for a chance to learn about intimate partner violence and what you can do to prevent it.Purple is the color chosen to represent awareness of intimate partner violence, and every year, intimate partner violence…” And then I’m off, running through the speech I’ve practiced a hundred times.It’s supposed to take about two minutes.As far as I can tell, it’s like one single blurred second, and then I hear myself saying, “…the founder of WISP, Gray Dulac.”
Polite applause rolls across the lawn as Gray takes the stage.He touches my arm as I move back to give him room.It’s nothing over the top.It’s something a friend could do.Even a casual acquaintance.But it’s like this flower starts to open inside my chest, and it’s hot and white, and for a second, I’m sure everybody can see it, so I scramble off the stage.
And for a few seconds, the relief—that my part is done—is so intense that I can’t keep track of what Gray’s saying.
“—grew up in a home where intimate partner violence was part of my everyday life.I didn’t know what it was called.I didn’t have a name for it.I didn’t even understand, not until later, that not all families were like mine.”He laughs, but the sound is rough with emotion.“And it’s taken me a lot longer to work through what it meant, growing up like that.It’s something I’m still working on.I started WISP because I don’t want children to have to grow up like that.Because I don’t want anyone to feel trapped in a relationship, to feel like they don’t have the resources to save themselves and the people they love.And I started it because in many communities, talking about intimate partner violence is still taboo.I hope you’ll enjoy tonight’s activities.Sam did a great job making sure this would be an event that would be fun as well as educational.But more than that, I hope you’ll join me tonight in making a pledge to end intimate partner violence.”He pauses, and to my surprise, a cheer goes up, echoing out into the night.Gray smiles, leans forward, the movement making the speech intimate and personal, like he’s talking to one person.Like he’s talking to me.“Thank you.”
When he steps down from the stage, the band begins to play, and the crowd starts to break up into their knots of conversation—and a large chunk of them swarm the bar.Gray’s not smiling anymore as he comes down from the stage.He looks washed out, exhausted, and I wonder if he’s ever said anything like that before.Not in front of so many people.Not to me.Part of me knew, I guess.Or suspected.But it’s one thing to have an idea, and it’s another thing to hear him say it.To hear the old fear and pain in his voice.To know that behind the smooth smiles and easy confidence, there’s that little boy who didn’t know what to do.
I think I’m about to start crying.
That goes right out the window, though, when Robin rushes Gray.He wraps Gray in a hug, and it looks like he has to restrain himself not to jump up and wrap his legs around him too.Gray rocks back and immediately starts trying to pry Robin’s arms loose, but Robin is holding on, saying something, and Gray is saying something back.
When I reach them, Robin is saying, “—so brave,” like he’s said it before.“You poor baby.God, my heart was breaking.”
Gray looks at me over Robin’s shoulder.He’s got help-me eyes; it makes me think of when little kids squeeze a puppy too tight.
“Robin, I think you’re on duty in the safe space until eight,” I say.
Robin lets go of Gray and whips around.He glares at me, and then he says, “He’s hurting, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“I’m fine, actually,” Gray says.“Thanks, Robin.”
Robin gives me another glare, like he’s sure I’m going to mess everything up, and then he sniffs and bounces away toward the safe space.
“You were amazing,” I tell Gray.
He rolls his eyes as he takes out his vape.
“You were,” I say.“You did such a good job.”
“I don’t know about that.”He hits his vape, holds it, and then exhales slowly.When he’s done, he rubs his eyes.“I mean, thanks.”
“Are you okay?”
“Not at all.I’m very fucked up.”But there’s a little hint of that cocky smile again.“Oh, you mean tonight?”
I wait because that’s what you have to do sometimes.
“I’m fine, Sammy.Thanks.”And then, “Seriously, thank you.This is incredible.I don’t know how you managed to do it.”
“A lot of it was donations,” I say.“And the college counseling center had some money left in their budget.Speaking of which, I want you to meet somebody.”
