Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(75)

Chapter Twenty-Nine


Ben

Saturday, June 27




It’s officially been over a week since I’ve heard from Arthur, and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the same old magic trick: the better things are with Mikey, the more he disappears.

But I can’t let my brain go there today. Arthur’s not allowed to rain on my rainbow parade. It’s my last New York Pride, and it already feels like a dream. Marching through the streets holding Mario’s hand. Our cheeks painted with rainbows that we drew on each other. I’m with Him shirts that Mario made for us with colorful arrows pointing at each other, which is great since people keep checking him out.

“You’ve got a lot of fans out here,” I say as we cross through a crowded Union Square.

“So do you, Alejo,” Mario says.

I’ve seen no proof of this, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not trying to attract anyone out here.

I’m just trying to be present during this parade: brushing shoulders with people who may have had a harder time coming out than I did; listening to Mario as he sings along to songs blasting from a drag queen’s speaker, like Robyn’s “Dancing On My Own” and Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Cut to the Feeling”; cheering as colorful confetti rains down from a rooftop; buying pronoun buttons from a vendor with blue lipstick; taking pictures of two Latinas with signs, one reading Yay I’m Gay!, the other Oh My, I’m Bi!; and joining the massive applause as a young teen grabs a megaphone and comes out as trans.

Why can’t every day be as beautiful as today?

I’ve been keeping my phone buried in my pocket because I don’t even care if Arthur texts me. I don’t want to miss one moment. The sun is on my face and I’m ready for my freckles to pop out like a little Pride constellation.

And as much fun as I’m having with the community, it’s hard not to laugh every time I see my favorite ally.

Dylan is wearing an ALLY AF shirt along with a rainbow headband, a rainbow peace-sign necklace, and rainbow wristbands. Basically, Dylan’s aesthetic is GAY AF. And because he loves the attention, he’s asking people to sign his shirt as a token for this day. None of us have told him that three different people have drawn dicks on his back.

“Everyone looks like they’re auditioning for a Lady Gaga video,” Dylan says.

Samantha twirls around in her high-waisted rainbow mesh dress. “Dylan!”

“It’s not an insult! You’re homophobic for thinking so.”



The sun is a little on the hot side, but I get the feeling that even if it were below zero, some people celebrating today would still be walking around in nothing but underwear. All the power to everyone just living so hard right now, even if this is the only weekend they feel comfortable dressing—or undressing?—like this.

“I’m going to miss this,” Mario says. “We just missed LA Pride, too.”

“Make the most out of today, then,” I say with a smile.

“Already am, Alejo.”

Samantha kisses Dylan on the cheek, and he suddenly announces, “I require a piss break.”

“Same,” Samantha says. “But not as crudely worded.”

“Form the Snake!” Dylan shouts.

He invented the Snake as a way to link us all together by hand so we can file through the crowds so “no man or Samantha gets left behind.” We snake through the parade until we find a café down the block from Pa’s Duane Reade, which you couldn’t pay me to go inside on my day off. Dylan and Samantha get on line, both of them looking like they’re dancing as they squirm.

“How much cash you got?” Dylan asks. “We’re going to bribe our way to the front.”

Samantha reaches into her purse. “I have a twenty.”

“I’m tapped out after buying the pins,” I say.

Mario observes the line. “There’s nine people ahead of you. I’ll go break that twenty and we’ll make it work.”

He takes the bill from Samantha and runs toward a hot dog cart.

“Do we trust Mario with the money?” Dylan asks.

“Nah, he’s a total mentiroso,” I say.

“Total what?”

I smile as I step away, not translating liar for him.

I take in the passing crowd, wondering what everyone’s stories are. What everyone has been through to be able to be here today. Who will be here next year. And the year after. Will I be back? Will I be back with Mario?

I’m not psychic, so I focus on the present.

There’s so much life out here, it’s explosive. And style like no other day. Someone really went all out in a Captain America costume but instead of red, white, and blue stripes, there’s a rainbow flag. For the most part, people are representing the day in incredible shirts that I wish they’d wear year-round: Sounds Gay, I’m In.

The “T” Is Not Silent.

Trans & Proud.

Space Ace.

Assume Nothing.

And then a short cute guy turns the corner in one of those Lin-Manuel Miranda love is love is love shirts.

Half a second later, I realize it’s Arthur, and suddenly I don’t care that he hasn’t texted. My heart’s pounding so fast, because this has to be the universe at work. Who knows how many people are packing these streets, and of course I zero in on Arthur Seuss. I’m so happy to see him that I jump up and down and shout out his name, but he can’t hear me over the energetic crowd and loud music.