Keeping You a Secret (14 page)

What did she mean by that? “I will,” I said automatically.

A man emerged from the garage, scraping a length of copper tubing with sandpaper. "You have everything loaded already?" he asked.

“Your timing is perfect — as usual." Kate exaggerated a grin at him. “The girls helped." She reached around me and yanked the panel door shut.

I extended a hand to the man and said, "Hi, I’m Holland Jaeger." 

"Holland?" He shook my hand. "Like the country?"

"Yeah, windmills and tulips."

He chuckled. He had a warm smile that extended to his eyes. "You girls have fun."

“You know it," Kate said. They kissed, then he opened the car door for her. Cece slammed through the storm door, baseball cap on and a blandet folded over her arm with a sweatshirt on top. Kate peered out from the driver’s side window. “Do you have to wear that shirt?"

“Yes, itʼs mandatory.” Cece sneered. It was her OUT! AND PROUD! tee.

Kate rolled her eyes at her husband. "Well, get in,” she said with a sigh, reaching over to unlock the passenger door.

Cece said, “We'll ride in back." 

Her mom’s gaze fixed on the blanket, then she shot Cece the same look she'd gotten in the kitchen. “What?” Cece said. "We're not going to do anything." She didn’t give her mother a chance for rebuttal before yanking open the side panel.

Cece stepped up and motioned me inside. There was scant space, with all the food and catering supplies, but Cece rearranged a couple to boxes and spread the blanket. As the van pulled out, we scrambled to sit. Ended up across from each other, legs extended.

"Isn’t your brother coming?" l asked.

“My brother? Oh, you mean Greg? No, they’re leaving later." She must’ve seen the confusion on my face. “He's going with his band. They’re competing." 

“Really? You didn't tell me that."

“Don’t get excited. You haven’t seen them play.” She smiled a little. Then looked at me and kept looking.

My stomach was doing acrobat aerobics. “So, um,” l shifted so that our legs weren't so close, so that l could speak. "l guess your parents know about you?" 

“Oh, yeah,” she answered. 

"How do they handle it?"

She shrugged. “My dads pretty cool. My mom…" She averted her eyes. Smoothed the blanket beside her. “She doesn't like it, but what can she do? My sisters a lesbian, too, so it’s kind of a double whammy."

Whoa. “l guess so. Wow. When did you, um, come out?"

She fixed on me again. “To my family? About two years ago, I guess. My sister didn’t come out until after l did. But they already knew. They had to; they just didn't want to believe it. Denial runs deep."

"Where is your sister?"

“New York. She's older than me, twenty-three." Cece blew out a puff of air. "lt was easy for her. All she did was e-mail Mom back and say, 'Oh, Cece’s out? Well, guess what? l’m queer, too.’" Cece flapped a limp wrist. Made me laugh.

“So do you bring your girlfriends home?"

She frowned. "Why do you want to know that?"

My face fried. "l just…" Why did l? Because l had to know. "Have you brought Brandi home to meet your parents?"

“Brandi?” Cece frowned a little. "No. Why?" She tilted her head at me. “Should I?"

My brain splintered. I felt dizzy, discombobulated. Out of my realm. Swallowing hard, l asked, “Aren't you… dating her?"

“Brandi? Hell, no. ls that what you thought?"

"Well, yeah."

“No. We're just friends. She'd like to be more…” Cece adjusted her cap, pulling it lower ever her eyes.

“But you’re not interested?" I ventured. Hoped. 

Cece said, “She’s not my type."

“What is your type?" 

She peered out from under the bill of her cap. “Well, let's see…" Cece eyed me up and down. I could barely breathe. Please, I prayed, do it. Touch me. Just once. Thats all it would take. 

She held my eyes for a moment and exhaled a shallow breath. “I like 'em hungry. Are you hungry, because I’m starving." She scrabbled to her feet. “I didnʼt eat all day."

I pushed to my feet feeling frustrated, let down. Cece dug out a couple of forks and we ate enchiladas directly from the pan. We filled the space between us with “mmms" and "yums."

The catered dinner was being hosted by the radio station for the DJs and their guests. We set up the buffet tables backstage in the auditorium and promptly started serving. The equipment crews needed the space, so we had to hurry. I followed Cece’s lead, setting out and restocking metal trays, lighting sterno fires, cleaning up spilled food. What a bunch of slobs. It was the hardest physical labor I’d ever done, aside from swimming. At least in swimming you don’t sweat.

By the time we’d restacked all the tables and reloaded the van, the battle of the bands had begun. Kate said, "Listen, I have a migraine. Iʼd like to stay and hear Greg, but I canʼt. You two want to stay, I presume." 

Cece nodded and looked to me. I confirmed. 

“If Greg can’t give you a ride home, call your dad.” Kate kissed Cece. She touched my arm and said, “Thanks so much, Holland. I'll get a check to you as soon as they pay me. Oh, and Cece,"she aimed a stiff finger at her, “you know the house rules." 

Cece stuck out her tongue at her mom’s back. As the van pulled away, I asked, “What are the house rules?" 

She stared down the road. “Stupid. Come on, let’ s go hear the music."

We snuck into the wings where one band, DVOX, was just starting their set. The group was two guys and two girls, and it was immediately apparent who the musicians were. The guys sort of faked guitar playing, and not too convincingly. The girl drummer was amazing. As if reading each other’s minds, Cece and I began to dance.

I’d forgotten how much I loved to dance. The only time I ever got to dance was at homecoming or prom. And even then only with my girlfriends because Seth didn’t dance.

Cece jigged around me, rocking out, and my exhaustion evaporated. The walls dissolved and everything around us, between us, disappeared. It was just her and me. In our own place, our own time, our own little bubble. Nothing could penetrate it, no one could intrude. The set went on for like twenty minutes – one song – and by the time it ended we were both breathing hard. When a new group walked on stage, Cece groaned, "Oh, no. Are they next?"

It must've been her brothers band. “What are they called?” I asked her, watching them plug in amps and do a sound check. 

“Pus," she replied.

I looked at her. "You're joking."

Her expression didn't change. They were introduced as – Pus – and the first chord they struck, if you could call it a chord, made me cringe. Cece pointed out her brother, Greg, who was the lead vocal. “He’s good,” I had to yell for Cece to hear.

She said in my ear, “He sucks. They all suck. They
are
pus."

I laughed. She smiled. “Come on." She motioned me away from the curtain. “I need some air."

The fire escape door was propped open with a chair. We wandered out behind the building, where a couple of stage hands were smoking. They ground their butts into the gravel and sauntered back in.

Cece leaned up against the brick wall, one sole of her shoe against it to balance herself. Her head lolled back and she closed her eyes. l leaned beside her.

Then it happened. That electric current surged between us, through me, and tugged at my core. The pull was so fierce, I couldn't fight it. Didnʼt want to. She was close, so close, her head right next to mine. I could hear her breathing, feel her heart beating. The outside air was cold, but that’s not what was making me tremble.

“Cece." My voice sounded whispery.

“Hmm?"

I turned to face her, jamming my shoulder into the brick. “I want —" I stopped. Couldn't say it. Couldn’t take the step.

She twisted her head and opened her eyes. “What Holland? What do you want?"

I was shaking so hard. Do it. Do it now. “I want to kiss you."

She dropped her foot, straightened up fast, and turned to me. “I wouldn't stop you." She wet her lips.

I closed my eyes. Opened them, reached out, and removed her hat. Slid it down her back. With my other hand, I threaded any fingers through her hair. It was all happening in slow motion. My hand caressing her head, pulling her close to me…

I did it.

Oh, God. Her lips were soft. She was warm, hot. I wanted all of her. I was falling, falling, with nowhere to land. I had to step away.

She stood frozen, head tilted back, eyes closed. A rush of visible air escaped from her lips, as if she'd been holding her breath, same as me. Then she seemed to deflate. 

She hated it. I did it wrong. "Cece?” My throat felt scratchy. I panicked; tried to restart my heart. “Say something." 

Her eyes opened. She shook her head slowly and said, “God, Holland. What took you so long?"

The phone rang three times. Just as the voice mail was about to pick up, he answered. “Hello?"

"Seth, hi. It's me. What are you doing?"

“HeIping my dad put this entertainment center together. You’d think a couple of smart guys like us could fit screw A into hole A, wouldn’t you? This is the third time we’ve had to take the damn thing apart and start over." 

Good, he sounded normal, happy. "I need to see you," I told him. “Sometime today."

“How ʼbout now?”

“Now?" My heart raced. Was I ready now?

“Any excuse to bail on this thing," he said. “You want me to come over?"

“No. I'll pick you up. Ten minutes." We disconnected. Upstairs, I snitched an English muffin off the breakfast table, shoved it in my mouth, and wriggled into my hooded sweatshirt. “Be back in a few," I garbled.

“What?” Mom frowned up from her reading. “Oh, Holland. Did you look at this catalog from Michigan? The campus at Ann Arbor is
gorgeous
. We should’ve applied there. They have a pre-law program. Of course, Stanford’s law school is more elite, and that’d be perfect if –" 

“Not now, Mom,” I said, removing the muffin from my mouth. "I have to go to Seth's."

She sighed wearily. “Ask him about Stanford. And don’t be gone all day. I miss you, and I want you to help me paint this stenciling on Hannah’s wall."

Neal peered over the Sunday funnies and winked at me. I winked back. "Morning, Faith," I called into the living room, where she was sprawled on the sofa watching a
Buffy
rerun. She might’ve grumped a reply. “Hey, Hannie." I kissed her baby cheek, then snitched another muffin and headed out.

My Jeep seemed to slow automatically as it approached Seth's house. He was sitting on the stoop, petting his cat, Toby. Two-ton Toby. A stray that Seth had rescued from a Dumpster when he was a kid. So like Seth. When he saw me swerve into the driveway, he lugged Toby inside and sprinted across the yard. 

I resolved to make this quick. “Where are we going?" Seth asked, leaning across the front seat to kiss me. I twisted to check out traffic, his lips grazing my cheek. 

"For a drive,” I answered. Where were we going? To the ridgeback where we went four-wheeling last summer? No, God, no. None of our old haunts. In my side view mirror Craned Park behind his house materialized and I pulled into the parking cove. Seth rested his arm across my shoulders. "What’s up?"

I opened my door. “Let’s take a walk."

He unfolded his legs and clambered out. Sidling up beside me, he took my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back. At the barbecue pits, I stopped and lowered myself to a picnic bench. Seth sprawled out beside me. A couple of kids were playing on the swings, their mother or grandmother reading a paperback nearby. 

There was no easy way to do this. I reached into my sweatshirt pocket, felt around for the cold metal and fisted it. Reached over, opened Seth's hand, and folded the class ring into his palm. "I think we should see other people,” I told him. So lame. 

He spread his fingers apart and stared at the ring. Just stared. Shell-shocked. Then his jaw muscles clenched and, blinking at me, he said, “What brought this on?" 

“I…” I gulped. “I have feelings for someone else. It wouldn't be fair to you –" 

“Who?" he barked. 

It made me jump. “You wouldn’t know h — nobody you know." My mouth was dry as dirt. “Seth," I twisted to face him, "this doesn't have anything to do with you. I love you. You know that. I want us to stay friends. You're one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” Which was true. It’d never been the sex that kept us togather. At least, not for me. 

"Friends," he said. His head began to bob. “Frierds.” He stood abruptly. His arm flew out to his side and the ring sailed across the playground. "Fuck you, Holland."

I reeled, not from the words themselves, but the force. The venom in his voice. Frantically, the grandmother collected her things and hustled her troops together. 

“Seth, please..."

He clamped his hands over my shoulders, hard. Bending me backward into the table, he said directly in my face, “Fuck. You."

My heart stopped beating. 

He straightened and his eyes welled with tears. 

"Seth. No." 

He stormed off, spewing gravel in his wake. His fist scraped away a tear on his cheek. 

"Oh, God." My head fell into my hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

***

Cece was still in bed when I arrived. Her father bellowed up the stairs, “Cece!" then turned to me and said, "It takes divine intervention to get her up before noon.” When there was no apparent acknowledgment that she’d heard, he cupped his hands and hollered, “Cecelia!" 

A door opened.“What?"

“You have a visitor." 

She peered down the stairwell. Our eyes met and her face lit up. “Hang on,” she said. 

She didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t going anywhere.

A few seconds later, dressed in baggy jeans and a baseball jersey, she charged down the stairs. Grabbing me in a fierce embrace, she breathed, "Oh, my God. I thought it was a dream. It's real, isn’t it? Tell me it’s real."

“lt's real," I said, smiling. Feeling relieved.

She stepped away; studied my face. “What’s wrong? What happened?"

The lump was still Iodged in my throat, but I managed to croak, “I broke up with Seth."