You Know Me Well(48)

A flash of light.

A dropping of our arms.

A stepping forward to see what the wall will hold.

A few seconds pass before our shadows appear, a perfect chain of three. And in those seconds, between darkness and light, I discover what I need to do.





17





MARK


Five nights ago, Katie and I were wandering around a crowded mansion and I felt more lost than I ever had in my life. I felt like a pretender, an intruder, a party crasher, with the party being what the rich and the famous knew as life. It didn’t matter that people were calling me beautiful, offering me drinks and propositions that went along with the drinks. It didn’t matter that pretending was the point. It didn’t matter that Katie was right beside me, just as out of place as I was. I felt everyone was humoring me. I felt they could see how terrified I was, and that as soon as I left the room, they would laugh and shake their heads.

Now we’re in a completely different place, and I still can’t find my footing. We’re in the rec room of a small community center, plastic bottles of cranberry juice and Sprite taking the place of champagne, vodka, and gin. The ceiling and walls are draped with pink and purple streamers, and a dozen tables have been set up in a semicircle around a makeshift stage—basically, a mic stand with an area of space cleared around it.

Ryan is sitting at one of the tables with Taylor and his friends. I don’t want to look at Taylor too closely, but I can’t look away. He has his footing, and he’s dancing all around—keeping one hand on Ryan’s arm the whole time. It’s strange to see them, especially to see their dynamic together. Ryan is clearly the younger one, clearly the less experienced one, clearly the newbie in this arrangement. Taylor is taking care of him.

I am not used to seeing Ryan like that.

He doesn’t spot me at first. I hang back, look instead at Katie and Violet. I have no idea what they said to each other, but the result is visible: They have found each other at last. And with every minute, they are finding each other more.

I told them they didn’t have to come with me, that they could abandon their third wheel and he would be fine.

“No way,” Katie said. “We’re a tricycle, and a tricycle goes nowhere without all three wheels.”

Now both of them are studying me, seeing me trying to avoid the fact that Ryan doesn’t look up the minute I walk into a room. Like there’s any reason he would, when he has Taylor right there.

“Go say hi,” Violet prods. “Stake your claim.”

But before I can do that, Quinn sashays over. He’s wearing a pink tuxedo with a pink carnation in the lapel.

Very subtle, I hear Ryan whisper in my head.

“Be still, my gay, gay heart,” Quinn purrs, “but it seems like the traffic’s gotten hella Sapphic. Katiegirl, have you brought the woman of your dreams to our shindig this evening?”

Katie blushes. And once she realizes she’s blushing, she blushes even more.

“Enchanté,” Violet says, offering her hand. Rather than shake it, Quinn lifts it to his lips.

“Enchanté!” he echoes.

I look back over at Ryan, and, yes, he’s watching us now. When he sees he’s caught my eye, he waves. Taylor notices the gesture, then looks over to me, too. He joins Ryan in waving.

“Go on,” Katie says.

It can’t be more than fifteen feet, but the time it takes for me to get to them is immeasurably awkward. And it’s even more awkward when I get there and Taylor stands up to greet me.

“At last!” he says as he wraps me in a hug. Then, when he pulls out of it, he adds, “I mean, usually I get to meet a guy before I see him in his skivvies, but I guess in your case, I’ll make an exception.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Ryan says, also standing, but not giving me a hug. He introduces me to Taylor’s friends, and I miss all of their names. They offer to make space for me at their table, but I indicate the lesbians I came in with and say I should probably sit with them.

“Good man,” Taylor says.

I am trying very hard not to hate you, but you’re not making it easy, I don’t say in response.

Quinn has made his way to the mic and is telling everyone the slam is about to begin.

“Anyone who wants to sign up should do so right away. We only have six poets on the list so far. Listen, people—don’t make me go to free swim, because you know this lifeguard will drag people into the water.”

“I dare you to put your name on there,” I say to Ryan.

He smirks. “Oh, Belated Barnaby, I already have.”

People are taking their seats. I see Lehna skulk in and sit at a table in the back with June and Uma. Violet tries to signal them to come over, but Lehna shakes her head.

I wish Ryan good luck, then walk back.

“How’d that go?” Katie asks when I sit down.

“What am I doing here?” I reply.

I am not a poet. I am a baseball player whose heart is being broken by a poet. There’s a difference.

Quinn calls the slam to order. “As you all know, this event is a fund-raiser for The Angel Project, which helps queer youth here in San Francisco, most of them from the streets or from really horrible home conditions. Our first poet, Greer, currently lives in The Angel Project’s youth residence. I think it’s fitting that we should start with them.”