Home is a Fire (13 page)

“Of course not. And we are all just as excited about that as Homecoming,” she lied, for my benefit. “It’s just, you know. Football kinda rules the roost here.”

“I do, indeed.” And the football coach is ruling my roost, Bammy, and if you only knew just how much I wanted to tell you every detail. But I can’t. Not yet.

“I’m just running to the salon to get my hair done after work,” she continued, “and then I’ll be at the tailgate party in the parking lot at about 6 o’clock. See you then, I hope? Oh, and remember, Derek. Adult beverages are cool in the parking lot, but not in the bleachers. You’re a teacher now, and you’re representing the school.”

“Go, Commodores,” I said, and I took my coffee and headed to my classroom.

Homecoming is a pretty special thing in the South, and the high school was in full participation mode: posters on every wall, the majority of the students in Commodore colors, football players in their jerseys and letter jackets, cheerleaders in full uniform. I remember hating it all when I was a kid. I used to feel so awkward and left out. “Give them bread and circus,” my history teacher had said, in disgust, cross-referencing our modern lust for football with the ancient Fall of Rome. But now, I have to admit, I was definitely getting into the team
spirit, and I’m sure the fact that I was falling head over heels for our football coach had more than a little something to do with it.

The Parkville High Booster Club and Band Moms organized a tailgate party in the main parking lot before the game. I had sent Luke a text message saying “Break a leg,” but he hadn’t responded. Can you use theatre jargon for sports, too? Anyway, I figured he was busy as hell getting the kids ready for the game, so I tried not to read too much into it.

I met Kit and Tommy in the parking lot. The weather had taken a sudden dip this past weekend, and we were all bundled in slightly heavier jackets and scarves. The alcohol we were about to consume was sure to warm us up, though.

“Hey there!” Tommy gave me a one-armed man hug. “All good?”

“All good,” I said. “How about you?” Tommy was kind enough to know when to ask the right, easy questions, but to avoid the wrong, more difficult questions.

“Can’t complain,” he said. “Just busy with work and my girlfriend, you know.” He smiled and handed me a beer from the trunk of his car. “Beer, Kit?”

“Oh, Tommy, you know I don’t do carbs,” Kit said. “Vodka soda, please.”

“Coming right up,” he said. Always the gentleman.

“So?” said Kit, looking at me as if she was saying everything by saying nothing.

I just smiled and winked at her while Tommy finished making her drink. She gave me a quick thumbs up while his back was still turned and then held on tight to my arm.

“Let’s get our game on, y’all!” Tommy said, as he handed her a drink, disguised in the plastic confines of an adult sippy cup. The school had a firm “No Alcohol” rule in the stands, but like every other situation in the South, people just looked the other way, as long as we behaved.

Bammy sent us a text message to say she was on her way, and it wasn’t long before she joined us in the bleachers, just as the kick off began. The crowd was cheering and the stands were shaking with the rumbling of stomping shoes. Everyone was on their feet, paying close attention to the game, yelling their support. It was a crisp autumn night, and the air smelled of popcorn and hot dogs. I could see Luke down by the sidelines, surrounded by his assistant coaches and the players on the bench. He never looked up at me, but I imagined that he knew I was there, supporting him. I couldn’t wait to congratulate him on a job well done, as soon as we beat Billington.

“We’ve got spirit, yes we do! We’ve got spirit, how ‘bout you?!” The cheerleaders yelled and high kicked from the sidelines, getting the crowd riled up. We scored quickly in the first quarter, and just never looked back.

“Go, Commodores!” I yelled, popcorn flying from the bucket in my hands as I jumped up and down like a fool.

“It’s great to see you with such spirit, Derek!” said Bammy. “I don’t remember you liking football so much.”

“Oh, I’ve always loved football,” I said. “I just like it a bit more now than I used to.” Whoa, Derek. Slow down on that drinking. It won’t be long before Miss Vice Principal catches on. Loose lips, you know.

Kit just smiled and took another sip of her secret vodka and soda from the plastic cup that Tommy had given her.

The band put on a great show during half time, and we were all feeling fine, singing and dancing in the stands. Even Bammy loosened up and started drinking from our cups. The effects of a winning game and secret alcohol were catching up with all of us, and the team did not disappoint in the second half, either. Luke and his team were definitely on their way to beating Billington, there was no doubt about that.

The crowd was pumped up beyond belief as our quarterback threw the winning touchdown and brought the game to a close. I was so proud as I watched Luke and the Billington coach meet mid field and shake hands.

“That’s my man!” I yelled.

“What did you say?” said Bammy. Kit stared at me, wide eyed, and Tommy was, thankfully, on his phone with Meredith, making plans for later.

“
Our
man, I meant.”
Shit
. “That’s our man! A fine coach. Yep.” I put my cup to my lips and looked away, hoping she would not question me further.

“Derek Walter, you are the worst liar ever,” Bammy said. “But we’re both a little tipsy, so I’m just gonna pretend that I didn’t hear that.”

“Come on, y’all,” said Kit, saving the day. “It’s time to go celebrate.”

“I just think we should tell the coach he did a great job,” I said.

“Derek, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Kit. “We need to head on out, now.” She tugged me by the arm like a child, but I pulled away gently.

“I’ll meet y’all at the car,” I said. “I won’t do anything crazy. I promise.”

“Well, that cat’s officially out of the bag,” said Bammy. “Kit, I think you need to catch me up on some stuff. Derek, I know we can’t stop you, but please don’t do anything stupid. We’ll be at the car.”

I walked into the steady stream of the football zombies as we pushed on down the stairs of the stadium stands. I was drunk and I knew it, but I was also focused. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I’m a greyhound. I just wanted to see Luke. I just wanted to tell him congratulations. Nothing wrong with that. Why are my friends acting so bizarre?

I spotted him down by the sidelines, surrounded by an adoring crowd. A school photographer was taking his picture with the quarterback, and there were back slaps and high fives all around. His father, Red Walcott, was standing proudly at his side.

“Luke!” I yelled, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Luke!” I pushed in further and forced myself into his line of sight. He just looked up at me, distractedly, and his smile faded.

“Hey! Luke! Great game!” I said, too loudly. “Congratulations!” Not thinking, I reached up to hug him, but his arms stayed at his side, and he quickly pulled back.

“Thank you for your support, Mr. Walter,” one arm extended to my shoulder, keeping me a safe distance from him. And he turned and put his back to me, as he walked further into
the crowd of excited supporters. Red looked at me strangely, and I could feel instantly that I had made the wrong move.

I felt like an idiot as I stood there, alone. The crowd shuffled along, following our winning coach towards the exit. Had I gone too far? All I did was try to hug him? Men hug, right? Should I not have done that? What was he thinking now?

Shit. Go, Commodores.

19

LET’S PUT ON A SHOW

The next week was miserable.

I fucked up, and I knew it. In his eyes I may as well have proclaimed our eternal homosexual love in front of God and country, or at least that’s what I imagined he thought. I had to make it all up in my head, as he wasn’t speaking to me, at all. I sent him an apology text after the game, but he didn’t respond, of course. The next morning, I realized I had sent three messages, which was three too many. I know some genius out there must have invented an app that won’t let you text message if you’ve had too many drinks, right? I needed to find one, yesterday. Hello, Silicon Valley. Don’t drink and dial!

By now, Bammy and Tommy knew everything, as it was obvious as hell. I gave Kit the go ahead to tell them the whole story, but I couldn’t face the situation myself. I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to stay in bed and crawl under the sheets
and die. Unfortunately, I couldn’t. As an adult with a job, I had responsibilities, so I threw myself full force into my work. This was tech week, and show time was Saturday, so we had a lot of work to do on the musical.

I didn’t see Luke at all in the teachers’ lounge on Monday. I’m sure he was avoiding me, and the pit in my stomach grew larger every morning as I approached the school. This felt worse than any crush I had ever had as a teenager. When I finally did spot him walking towards me, I tried to catch his eye, but he just powered through, as if his conversation with the pretty blond science teacher was the most interesting thing he’d heard all week. He was out to prove something, and if he hurt me in the process, well so be it.

Damn it, Luke. Yes, I made a mistake, but now will you look at the mistake you are making? Do not lose me. We are good together.

I spent my nights working on the show. I was really proud of the kids. They had so much talent, and their hard work was paying off, considering the small budget for the Arts Program we were allotted by the school district. Bammy, Kit and Tommy were coming to support us on opening night, as well as Mom and Uncle Barry.

But, Luke? After four days of silence, I caved. I called. The phone rang four times and then went to voice mail, so I knew he wasn’t on the phone. He just wasn’t going to take a call from me.

“Hey, it’s me. But you know that,” I started, unsure of what to say, even though I had rehearsed it four times. It all went out the window the second I heard the beep. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know… I fucked up. I should have
let you have your moment and just praised you from afar, like everyone else. But babe, I was so proud of you, and I wanted to tell you. I wanted to stand by your side. And I know now that that was stupid. Well, not stupid. Just misguided. Just a really bad choice, fueled by hormones and adult beverages. But I did it, and I’m so sorry. I really am. And the last few days have just been awful. I miss you like hell, and I just wanted you to know that. I wish we could talk this out, and I hope I’ll hear back from you. I really do. Because, you know… I have your socks. And I have to return those.” And I stopped. I was silly, now. Lame. Rambling the lovesick song of a tortured teenager. I honestly didn’t know if I was making it worse, but at this point I had nothing to lose. “So… can we talk soon? My show is tomorrow, Friday. I hope you can come.” And I hung up.

Thursday night I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I missed his arms, his smell. My brain and heart were in turmoil, and I had no solution. Friday after school I camped out in the auditorium, too busy with last minute notes for the show to worry about my love life, and I was grateful for the distraction. Mom and Uncle Barry came to meet me back stage just before the curtain was about to rise.

“Hey there sweetie, are you nervous?” Mom said, as she gave me a hug.

“Oh, you know how I am,” I said. “The nerves fuel the energy. But these kids are good. Great, even. I’m so proud of them. They’ve worked so hard on this.”

“Well, they have you to thank for that. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it,” she said. “Come on Barry, let’s go find our seats and leave this boy to his business.”

“I’ll be along in a second, dear,” he said, and she nodded and wandered off through the door. “Hey, Dolly,” he said, looking at me quizzically. “What’s up? Something went wrong, didn’t it?”

“Horribly,” I nodded. “I pushed too far. I’m pretty sure I scared him away for good.”

“Well, remember what I said. If that’s his choice, then it’s his to make. He may just realize what he’s missing and come around. But there’s nothing you can do about it right now. The show must go on! Break a leg. We’re proud of you, Derek.” He squeezed my arm and turned to go find Mom.

I peaked through the curtain as the stage manager called places. I could see Bammy, Kit, Tommy, Mom, Uncle Barry… and no Luke. I didn’t expect him to come, but much like that time I ran an extra lap at the lake, I was cashing in all my wishes, hoping the heavens would prove me wrong.

The show went off without any major disasters. We had a dancer slip and fall onstage during “Hand Jive,” but she got right back up and kept going. A few light cues didn’t go exactly as planned, but no one forgot their lines, and the kids sounded amazing. The curtain came down and they all gathered on stage for their final bow to receive their praise from their family and friends.

I clapped hard from the safety of stage right as the kids were showered with well-deserved accolades and a standing ovation. My Sandy and Danny walked down center stage, arm in arm, and held their hands up to quiet the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you, so much!” they said. “We’d just like to say a special thanks to someone we couldn’t have done
this without. We are so happy you are our teacher, director, and biggest supporter. Mr. Walter, come on out and give a bow. Can we make some noise for Mr. Walter?!”

Blushing, but thrilled, I walked out onstage to give my two leads a hug, then turned to wave at the audience as they applauded. The follow spot was directly on me, and with the bright lights I could barely make out any faces in the crowd, but I could see someone walking swiftly from the very back of the auditorium, down the center aisle. As they approached nearer to the stage, I could see that it was a man carrying a huge bouquet of flowers that obscured his face. I started to sweat as he got closer and closer. Did he really come? Did he bring me flowers?!

“
Bravo!
” he said, as he thrust the bouquet up towards me, and I bent down to take them from his hands.

My heart was pounding. It was David.