Felix Ever After(84)

There must be hundreds of thousands of people here. I’m just thinking that there’s no way—no way in hell—I’d ever find Leah and Ezra in this, when I hear a scream in my ear. I spin around, and Leah leaps into my arms, almost making us fall to the pavement.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here!”

She’s in a tank top and shorts that show off her curves, and her red curls are flying everywhere. “I’m really happy you came!”

I’m so nervous I can’t even speak as I glance around for a sign of Ezra—but I notice Leah’s smile fall a little.

“Okay, so,” she says, “we were together literally ten minutes ago, and he said he was going to run to the corner store to get some water, and I said I’d be here, but then the police put up this blockade,” she says, pointing to an NYPD barricade that lines the sidewalk, “and he shouted to me that he’d find a way around and come back over, but that was a few minutes ago now . . .”

Fuck. A few weeks ago, maybe even a few days ago, I would’ve been relieved. I would’ve given up, right here and now, and gone back home, happy to sit with the idea that it wasn’t going to work out anyway—I don’t deserve the kind of love that I want. But I came here for a reason. I have to see Ezra. I have to tell him everything. I can’t give up, not now. I can’t imagine just texting him the truth—I have to speak to him, face-to-face. And I can’t wait until Monday, the fact that I love him burning me up inside.

“I’m going to try to find him,” I yell to Leah.

She grins at me. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m going to stay here, in case he manages to make his way back around, okay?”

I nod. “Text me if he shows up again!”

“I will!” We hesitate, then Leah throws her arms around me again, just a little emotional—and, I don’t know, I guess I’m a little emotional myself. “Good luck!” she shouts.

I start walking, turning the corner and going up a side street. Even here, away from the main parade, the streets are packed with people and vendors. I turn another corner, back up to the march route, and the crowd moves like a river, pushing me along until I see a break—out in the sun, beside the barricade, there’s a single spot. I slide into it. It’s the perfect place to watch the parade, but I wanted a second to get out of the masses of people and take a moment to look around, scanning the crowd for Ezra. When I don’t see him, I try to rejoin the crowd to keep going—but it’s become so packed that there’s a jam, no one moving. They’re like a wall, and in front of me, police officers warn anyone off from jumping over the barricades and into the parade itself. I’m trapped.

Shit. I wanted to find Ezra, but I really don’t know if that’s going to happen now. I have a pretty good spot for the parade, so I lean against the barricade’s railing and try to enjoy the march. A chance like this doesn’t come along often, and I know Ezra would ask me what the hell I’m doing, not watching the parade when it’s literally right in front of me. Bikers waving flags from their motorcycles rumble along. A float made of balloons and a drag queen singing to the crowd that sings back passes next. There’s a marching band that blasts a Sia song, and there’s a sports car with a celebrity from a reality TV show who waves and blows kisses. And through it all, everyone screams and screams and screams. I usually hate this parade—hate the noise, the crowds—but when I see the Callen-Lorde float passing by, I feel an urge to scream, too. I do scream when the LGBT Center float passes and I catch Bex in the parade, waving with a yellow, white, purple, and black flag tied around their neck like a cape.

Once I start screaming, I can’t stop. I scream so hard my throat feels raw and my heart pounds. I’m screaming with joy. I’m screaming with pain. I’m screaming with the awe that I’m here, that we’re all here, and that we’re here because of the people before us, the people who couldn’t be here, and I’m screaming for myself, too. Screaming and cheering and a little bit of crying. I try to wipe my eyes as if it’s just dust, but the person beside me catches me with a smile, also wiping their eyes. I don’t know this person, don’t know their name, probably will never even see them again after this parade, but for that one second, I feel like they’re a friend, or a part of my family, and that’s pretty fucking amazing. I never really got it before, why Ezra is so obsessed with Pride, but I think I’m starting to get it now.

There’s a break in between the floats, the far-off sounds of the marching band and blasting music and the continuous roar of cheers. I glance up, look at the opposite side of the street—and it’s like I made him materialize, made him appear with my thoughts alone. Ezra, dressed in all black, shades on, curls flying in the breeze, grin on his face.

I shout his name. “Ezra!”

A few heads turn to me, but he doesn’t hear me. Another float is coming. I wave my hands. “Ezra!”

His head turns. Even with his shades on, I can tell he’s looking right at me.

I didn’t plan for this—didn’t think this through. The float is coming, blaring music, everyone on the float dancing. “I’m sorry!”

More people are watching now. Ezra hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken, hasn’t given any indication that he heard.

“I’m sorry!” I say again. “You were right.” He shakes his head, and I don’t know if he can hear me. “You were right, I—”