Page 61 of Gay for Pray
A sob breaks free, and he clings to the back of my shirt. Years and years of emotion pour out of him in a torrent, but I hold him through all of it, letting him cry for as long as he needs. After all these years of bottling himself up, how could I possibly blame him?
He sighs as the tears abate, easing away from me. His face is red, his hair mussed, his cheeks damp. He’s never been more handsome—or more brave.
“I know I just cried all over you,” Theo says, “but I’ve never been so happy in my entire life. Thank you.”
Tears clog my own throat, but Theo yanks me toward him and kisses them away. We cling to each other, kissing like we’re standing at the end of the world, like there’s nothing left to lose. It took so much for me to get this boy into my life, but I wouldn’t change a single second of it. Today has only reaffirmed that he’s the most incredible man I’ll ever meet.
We finally part and settle into our own seats, but Theo takes my hand after starting the car.
“I guess we should head back to school,” he says. “Got the rest of the semester ahead of us.”
“We have way more than half a semester of college courses ahead of us, Theo.”
I smile at him as a whole big, long, wonderful life stretches out before us. His answering smile suggests he glimpses that same bright future, one in which we make our own rules and our own paths no matter what anyone around us might say or think.
“Ready?” I say.
Theo swallows but grips my hand harder. “I’ve been ready for my entire life.”
Epilogue
Theodore
Six years later...
A CLAMOR OF VOICES jockey for prominence in the choir room. I make a circling motion with both hands, signaling for silence.
“Not bad,” I say, “but really try listening to the people around you. You can feel it when you’re in harmony, and when you’re not. Let’s take it from the top one more time.”
I lead the kids through the song once more, though I’m cutting it close in terms of timing. They finish just before the bell rings to end the class period, giving me only a moment to shout, “And don’t forget about the spring dance coming up!” as they hurry off to their next class.
Their voices and their bodies are in constant chaos at this age, right on the edge of being a “big kid,” but I love it. They really are improving, especially the handful of kids who joined the choir because they genuinely love it and not just to fill an empty class period in their schedules. Catching those tiny sparks of future greatness and nurturing them has become the joy of my life in the couple years I’ve been teaching since graduating from A.S.S. Uni. It isn’t the path I—or my father—expected, but once I started making my own choices and not simply following a pre-planned path through life, I found that I wanted to work withkids and music, giving them the guidance and opportunities I never had. The world is a different place than when I was ten or twelve, but many of the challenges remain the same. And as Jude and I both know, queer kids are sometimes drawn to theater and music before they even realize they’re queer. I want to be that adult in their life who not only teaches them how to hone their art, but also how to love themself exactly the way they are.
I sigh into the silence that follows the cacophony of class. As much as I love my job, it can be draining, and I still have one more class period to teach today. I expect to get a short break in between classes, but when I turn to head to my desk and sit for a moment, I find a student lingering in the choir room. The girl swallows when I notice her, twisting the cord of her hoodie between her fingers.
“Um, Mr. Walsh?” she says shyly.
Despite my exhaustion, I put on a smile. “What’s up, Chelsea? Everything okay?” I don’t assign homework or projects like the teachers of other subjects, so it’s rare for my students to linger after class with questions.
“Yeah, I just, um…” Chelsea shifts from foot to foot, tugging on the string in her hands so her hood cinches in around her face. “I had a question about the spring dance.”
“I’m not on the planning committee,” I say. In fact, I have no association with the dance at all, though I may volunteer to chaperon if we’re short-staffed.
“I know, it was more that…” Chelsea squirms, but I wait patiently for her to gather her words and speak. “I think I might ask Allison Kim to go to the dance with me.”
She doesn’t elaborate, just looks up at me from under her hood. I wonder if my eyes ever shone this way, bright with hope and fear and confusion and doubt. Jude would know.
I crouch down to get closer to the girl’s eye level. “Do youthink Allison Kim would like to go to the dance with you?”
Chelsea nods. “One time we went behind the swings and she kissed me on the cheek. That’s why…”
I smile. “Then I think you should ask her to the dance. It sounds like the two of you would have a good time, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but…”
There is so much contained in the silence that follows, so much doubt, so much fear, so much of my own childhood reflected back at me. But this is exactly why I became a teacher, so I could be the person I needed when I was Chelsea’s age, the person who wasn’t there for me.
“Is itsafefor you to ask?” I say.
