Page 22 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
No one teaches Black boys who love other boys to love, so Des figured he’d develop the curriculum. Des wanted his love to be loud and in the open, no longer trapped in basements or bedrooms. Wil was heading down the path of maybe becoming some entertainment mogul. Maybe he’d be Berry Gordy after all. And Des never stopped thinking he could maybe be some version of Diana Ross, take off for the big city.
But here’s the thing about Berry Gordy and Diana Ross: Loving undercover made for a messy reveal. Des figured maybe, just maybe, they could avoid the kind of fallout that happenedbetween Berry and Diana if they made themselves known to the public from the jump. And if love were out in the open, maybe it’d be strong enough to overcome.
On one of the nights when their schedules aligned, they watched a copy ofMahoganyon a Betamax machine—Desmond’s idea. They watched Diana pour milk into Billy Dee’s megaphone, watched the epic montage of all her looks across ancient Italy, and spoke in unison the famous line:Success is nothing without someone you love to share it with.
“It’s true,” Desmond said with a mix of confidence and worry.
“What’s that?”
“That it’s lonely at the top. That you can’t take it with you. All that, all that about success and having it all by yourself.”
“Well, you can’t argue with that,” Wil said, looking for an end to whatever this conversation was.
Desmond released his torso from Wil’s grasp and rose from the plastic-covered couch. “I think I’m going to go to New York at the end of next semester. I’ve been thinking more and more.”
Wil clasped his hands and looked at the floor. “It feels like we’re just getting started with everything.”
“You are. But I don’t think this is the place for me. I never thought it was.”
“When you say ‘this,’ what do you mean?”
“Detroit isn’t the place for me. There’s nothing to keep me here. And plus, I got dreams. You see the movie, right? That’s what I want to be.”
“But I want you here.”
Desmond sat back on the couch and looked Wil in the eye. “You know thatthisisn’t what you want, and this isn’t working.”
“I guess I never considered whatthisis.”
“Detroit ain’t made for me, and it can’t be for two people like us. You can be here, but I got my mind made up.”
Wil puffed out his cheeks and exhaled. “And you’ll come back for me when I’m a big success, I take it.”
“If you’re not married with kids by then,” Des mumbled.
“You know what song I like?” Wil asked, jumping up to his feet. Des looked puzzled while Wil made his way over to the stereo. “They’re from Grand Rapids, but I heard a rumor they’re really from the east side. I wish I could write a song half as good as these Lite-Brites. Look at the liner notes—they write and produce their own stuff, the whole family.”
Des was already holding back but was so confused he ignored wiping a tear away as the needle dropped on a vinyl Wil had pulled out. Wil made his way back to the couch and put his arms around Des as the lyrics did the talking: “Let me help you find yourself, ’cause you don’t need nobody else…stay with me.”
“No. Come with me to New York when I’m done.”
“I’m staying. And we’ll work on this. Us. I’ll…figure it out. But I can’t let you leave. Not me, not now.”
Des drooped, then smiled. “Stop trying to sound like Billy Dee. You ain’t no Billy Dee.”
“And you ain’t no Miss Ross, Mister Uppity.”
“I’m not uppity, I’m me. And I’m tired of not really being me.”
“If you weren’t you, then I wouldn’t be with you right now,” Wil said, squeezing Des’s shoulder. “I guess in a way, you make me, me. And I can’t be me without you, so what is it that I have to do to make you who you want to be?”
Des looked at his watch, looked out the window, and looked back to Wil. “It’s not too late outside,” he said, moving his hand inside Wil’s. “Let’s just take a walk.”
A Flying Lesson
Elizabeth Acevedo
“If you’re going to leave home,
