“You want to teach kindergarten.” He says it easily, like it’s already a thing, when it is at best a whisper. “You want to teach five-year-olds about bugs and counting and being kind. And you’d be fucking great at it.”
“Yes – I mean not the bugs, because eww, but yes,” I say gently. What has gotten into him? “Aren’t you still mad?” The words squeak out since I’m not sure I want to know. “Why are you being so understanding?”
He takes another gulp of water from his glass to steady himself. “This is a job, like working at the garage. Focus on what needs to get done and do it. What are my options at this point? Go back home. Put off school for another year? I’m not going to let some inflated sense of pride get in my way again.”
All the anger from before seems to be channeled into something else, something with more optimism, and I can’t help but get caught up in.
“So, we’re going to Barcelona.” Hayes rises from the table and extends his hand to pull me up. “We’re going to take their money, make their content, and show your parents you don’t need law school. And I’m going to make my deposit.”
“But they want us to be a couple. And now we’ll have someone watching us.”
“So? It’s all fake anyway, right? You said that upstairs, so it shouldn’t be a problem.” He steps closer to me and I notice the perspiration clinging to the chest hair that peeks over the edge of his tank top. The scent of musk and fresh-cut grass enter my nostrils. I push the air out through my nose, take a step back and turn my face away from him.
“Hayes…” I don’t know if this is a good idea.
“Barcelona, Brady. Chorizo. Sangria. Paella.” He’s already walking toward the elevator. “We should pack. Early flight.” He stops and holds out his hand for me. I walk toward him, and this time I can’t stop his scent from invading my body and reminding me of how it used to feel when we were together. Is this fake or is this real? I can’t tell, but I grab his hand anyway.
Chapter 16
Spring Break, New Hope, Pennsylvania
Hayes
One year ago
“Aren’t you at least going to tell me the state we’re headed toward?” I had one hand on the wheel of my truck and my opposite elbow was leaning in toward Brady so I could steer and hold his hand at the same time. I’d given up complete control of the day to him; it made my sympathetic nervous system fire uncontrollably with catecholamines flooding my system, but in a good way. The net effect was an excitement I hadn’t felt before.
“Turn left on the other side of the bridge,” he said, and I did as I was told. Once we crossed the bridge a blue sign with white script read:Pennsylvania, Pursue Your Happiness.The weather was a bit warmer here than in Hartford, so the trees along the river had already started to bloom green with promises of summer and there were splashes of yellow daffodils scattered in the open fields and acres of farmland we had passed.
“This reminds me of Alabama,” I said.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Brady asked, squeezing my hand. He knew I had mixed emotions about my hometown.
“It’s just a thing,” I said. To me Hartford, Connecticut was a big city, and going to school with more people in my first-year Chemistry class than the entire population of Eagle Rock was an adjustment. But the pre-med program at Clarkson was one of the best. Not to mention a part of me knew it would be easier to be bi in a bigger place. I never thought I could be out in a small town. At least until Brady showed me otherwise.
“I know you came out super early, but you had out gay people in your family, like your uncles.” I stopped at a red light and turned toward him as my truck idled. “I didn’t know anyone who was out. I played sports and worked on engines and liked girls, so people made all these assumptions about me that weren’t correct.”
“I’m sorry.” Brady put his hand on my shoulder as the light turned green. “People made assumptions about me too. But the difference is they were correct. You dress as Liza Minnelli three Halloweens in a row and people start making the connection.”
I laughed out loud. I had just learned who Liza Minnelli was a few months ago when Brady gave me one of his “Queer 101” lectures where he taught me about all the things I missed growing up, from RuPaul to poppers. Sometimes he would spend hours preparing with some kind of funny song; once he made a poster out of construction paper and glitter to explain the evolution of Beyoncé. He was always a great teacher, patient and careful.
“There,” Brady said, releasing my hand and pointing to the sign ahead of us. “That’s where we are staying for the night.”
“New Hope,” I said as the countryside gave way to more houses and buildings.
“Yeah, my Uncle Jamie told me about it.”
“Great,” I said, although to be honest I was worried about checking into a romantic inn with another guy. I’d been out as a bi guy at college since second semester of freshman year. But every summer, when I went back to Alabama, I went back in the closet. Not to my dad or sisters. They knew the truth, but it wasn’t something I was comfortable sharing in that small-minded place.
As we drove into town, I noticed pride flags lining the street and in front of the charming bungalows and small shops. I saw same-sex couples walking hand in hand and even a shop called “We’re Here, We’re Queer. Let’s Get Ice Cream.” “What is this place?” I asked, pulling into the center of town and parking my truck.
“This is New Hope, Pennsylvania. We are about halfway between New York City and Philadelphia. Apparently, it’s been a gay Mecca for decades, as long as Fire Island or Provincetown from what I read. But it doesn’t get all the hype. They had some of the first gay weddings right here in New Hope. This person everyone called Mother would perform these elaborate drag shows and have a ceremony where two guys or two women would get married. Decades ago. It wasn’t legal at the time, of course, but people say it was a way of imagining what was possible.”
“Here, in this small town?” I asked, and got out of the truck. I ran around to help Brady with his door because it stuck a little. He hopped out and kissed me on the cheek to say thank you and I immediately looked around to see if anyone saw in case there was trouble. At school, I could let my defenses down, but I didn’t know this place. An older couple, a man and a woman, on a bench across the street were in direct view of us, but they only smiled and waved.
We walked past an antique store with a combination of brightly painted lunchboxes from the eighties and classic brass candlesticks from the 1880s, to a stone cottage with a hand-painted sign swinging on a post that read “Hideaway Inn.” I walked in trepidatiously to see a man behind the counter who looked like he could have worked with my dad at the Shinemart.
“Hello, I’m Brady, and this is my boyfriend Hayes. I made a reservation for tonight. I can pull it up on my phone.” I could feel my body freeze and my jaw tighten when he called me his boyfriend. I didn’t know what to expect and my body braced for a confrontation.
