Page 33 of Grief & Glitter

“Why can’t you buy it and wear it?” His voice was calm, soft, soothing.

“Because.” I coughed. Some old woman gave me an odd look as she passed by with a bag from a chain coat store. “Because people would… everyone would… people would… because it’s a dress, Gideon.”

“So what? If you like the dress, buy the dress. Wear it. Fix up your hair, put on that makeup you love, and be you.”

“But people will talk about us. You. Me.” I wiped under my runny nose with the back of my hand, the extra-long sleeves of his hoodie acting like a tissue. “Shit, I just wiped snot on your hoodie. Gah, I’m such a wreck. Why do you even like me?”

“I like you for a lot of reasons, and so does everyone else on the team. No one will care if you show up looking like a different Ryan than they’re used to. This team spouts off about being inclusive. The league talks about hockey being for everyone, that they embrace the LGBTQ community. We have two players openly dating other men. Let them show it. Let them put their money where their mouths are for once. Buy the dress. Wear it. And if one of those assholes looks at you sideways, I’ll have a talk with them.”

“What will you say?” I asked, gaze still on that dress. I was scared someone would buy it but scared to get up and go purchase it. I was a fucking mess.

“I’ll say that my date is the prettiest person in the room, and if they want to make a comment about them that’s not complimentary, I’ll cram a roulette wheel up their ass.”

I laughed out loud. Two girls on cell phones startled at the sound as they passed.

“You’re so amazing. I don’t deserve you,” I whispered into the phone.

“You totally do. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.” He took a deep breath. “Ryan, if you want the dress, then buy it, babe. If you want to wear it tonight, then wear it. If you don’t think it’s time for you to come out in that public of a way, then wear your suit. And if you don’t want to deal with this at all, then tell me, and we’ll go have some ramen. I’ll be at your side no matter what kind of clothing you’re wearing. You can be in a suit, in a dress, in a burlap sack. You can paint your face silver, step into platform heels, and pretend to be Ace Frehley. RIP Space Ace.”

“I love that you love Ace,” I said and sniffled a bit more. Gideon had a nice admiration for metal music just like me. “This is such a big decision.” I sighed; my back bowed under the weight of years of hiding, fear of discovery, and shame. Maybe… could I dare? “If I did buy the dress, and if I applied makeup and barrettes, would you promise to be at my side throughout the night for moral support?”

“I’m your date. I’ll be at your side no matter what you’re wearing.”

I really loved him. I did! How could I not? Maybe it was too soon to have these feelings. Probably. Perhaps I was just overwhelmed with his understanding and support. More than likely, but my God, the feelings that I had for this man bursting open in my breast were unlike anything I’d ever felt before. No artificial high could compare.

“I’m torn. I feel like I want to do it, you know?” I pushed to my feet. “Like if I don’t do it now with this dress, and this night, with you at my side, I’ll never do it. I’ll spend the rest of my life trapped in a cage of zero self-expression.”

“I’m sure that if you feel this isn’t the right time, another opportunity will come along. I’m not pressuring you. You can buy the dress and wear it in private too. I’d love to see you in it.”

“It’s me, Gids. It really is. I could so rock that collar with my long neck. And if I wear my hair up, that will emphasize… am I really seriously contemplating this? Should this big of a decision be made in such a short span of time?”

“I can’t answer that for you, babe. All I can say is that no matter what outfit you’re in when I come to pick you up, I will proudly escort you into Waterways on the Lake.”

I sniffed back a stray tear. “You’re so sweet. I wish I could hug you right now.”

“Hug me later. Go buy the dress. I’ll see you at seven.”

“Okay, yeah, seven. I’ll be ready. Gideon, thank you. You’re an amazing person.”

“Not so sure about that, but thanks. Whatever you decide, I’ll see you at seven. And I’ll be proud to have you beside me.”

A shaky laugh escaped me. “I’m buying the dress.”

“Then go get your dress, babe.”

I pocketed my phone, threw back my shoulders, and walked into that little boutique as if I were a queen. And inside, way down deep where my heart thumped, I felt like a queen. A queen with a very handsome and genteel king to walk her past the dragons looking to feast on her pale flesh.

“Your hand is shaking, Bud,” Dad commented as I tried to apply a fake eyelash.

A nervous snort escaped me. “I know. I’m so glad I did my eyeliner earlier.” I took a deep breath and delicately placed the sticky lash on my eyelid. Dad handed me a small blow dryer. He was serving as my cosmetic wingman tonight. Time was not on my side. I messed around so long at the mall being a weepy Wanda that I was now running out of time. Gideon would be here any second, and I still wasn’t fully dressed. I did not want to greet him in my old makeup robe and scruffy house slippers. I had new heels to wear with the dress so my feet would be sore come the end of the night, but my spirit would be light as a cloud. I was doing it. I was doing it!

Somehow, I’d found the courage to dress as my heart dictated. My stomach was a tight knot of anxiety, but I was one more eyelash, an application of lipstick, and a dress away from my life being forever altered. And Gideon had helped more than he’d ever know.

He hadn’t made this decision for me. But he’d given me the space to make it for myself, without shame and without fear that he would walk away. Dad would probably say I’d always had the courage buried somewhere inside me. Maybe he was right. But knowing Gideon would be beside me made it possible to finally reach for it.

Sure, he and Dad may argue—Dad already had pish-poshed my placing all the praise on this moment on Gids—but I knew in the hollows of my being that if I’d not had Gideon to be my escort, I’d still be hiding my fluidity.

So much could go wrong. The worst that could happen would be me being let go by the Copperheads, as Dad had pointed out after I word-vomited on him when I got back home. If they did, he was sure there would be hell to pay from the team as well as fans and any local LGBTQIA+ groups. If that happened—he doubted it would—I’d have time to devote to full-time cosmetology school. Not that I was in yet. I still had an admissions interview to get through. Gids and Dad felt I was a shoo-in, but they were biased. If I lost this job, I’d just need to find another, so part-time schooling was what I would be dealing with for⁠—