“It’s over?”I say.
Gray looks around.There’s a kind of desperation I haven’t seen in his face before, and finally, he says, “Fuck, Sam.Fucking—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” He stops again.“Can we talk about this in private?”
“Why would we talk about it in private?”I say.“You were fine talking about it five seconds ago.”
Hurt crosses his face, and for a moment, he looks off balance.Then he’s back, his voice calm but cool.“All I meant was we hadn’t talked about it.”
“We hadn’t talked about it.”
There’s the tiniest movement like he wants to look over at Mr.Somerset and Chief Peterson, but he doesn’t.“I don’t know what you want me to say.Wehaven’ttalked about it.And I’d really like to have this conversation in private.”
“We’re having it right now,” I say.There’s this part of me that can’t believe how calm I sound.And there’s this other part of me that keeps hearingWe haven’t talked about iton repeat.Like weneededto talk about it.Like we hadn’t both known.But, then, I guess we hadn’t.One of us hadn’t.“Right here.What do we need to talk about?”
The pause is longer this time, and the answer limps out of him.“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
“Stop fucking doing that.”He puts his hands on his hips, and his shoulders go back, andthisis the Gray I remember, the one I thought I knew before the last few weeks.“How about if you’re even gay, for starters?”
Mr.Somerset says, “Sam, you don’t have to answer—”
“Be quiet,” I tell him.
Mr.Somerset shuts his mouth.He looks at me like I hit him.
“This isn’t any of your business,” I say.“So stay out of it.”Then, to Gray, I say, “Why do I have to be something?We’re—” I almost sayin love, but we aren’t, and this hot flush runs through me, prickling my face.“We’re having a good time.Why isn’t that what matters?”
“Because it does matter, Sam.”Gray sounds like I’m stupid, like he can’t believe how stupid I am.“Because we’ve been living this weird half-secret, and it’s not going to last forever, and then shit is going to hit the fucking fan.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
“Is he right?”Gray asks.“Am I ruining your life?”
“No.”
“Great.So your family’s okay with all of this?No big deal?”
And I don’t have anything to say to that, either.But there’s this ugly satisfaction on his face, like he wants to be right, and it’s like my mouth opens all on its own, and I don’t even know what I’m saying until the words are coming out of my mouth.
“Why would it be a big deal?”I ask.“Like you said, it’s over.”
When I turn, I can’t look at Mr.Somerset or Chief Peterson.I’m a few yards away when Gray screams after me, “Yeah, you’re fucking right it’s over!”He sounds like he’s out of breath.“Fuck you!Fuck you!Fuck!You!”
20
Gray
It’s a blur after that.The haze of rage at Sam, and John-Henry, but mostly at myself.And it’s blurrier after the shots I line up at the bar and rip one after another.The band is still playing, and the party’s still going, and people are dancing and laughing and having a good time like the world didn’t just implode.
I’m dancing with Robin, and he’s sucking on my neck.
I’m on one of the folding chairs, Robin grinding on me, hands up my shirt.
I’m lining up shots again.
I’m puking onto somebody’s shoes because I’m a fucking lightweight now.
Turns out, they’re Ben Fields’s shoes.He doesn’t say anything.Or maybe he does; it’s hard to hear him over the waves of nausea, through the sideways cloud of purple light.
