“Ah-hem!”
An elderly white-haired docent is standing a few feet from us, looking more amused than stern.
“Museum’s closing,” he says.
“I’m sorry!” I say, but the joy in my voice betrays how immensely far from sorry I am.
Violet takes my hand. She grins at the man.
“My girlfriend and I got carried away,” she says, and he laughs, and we cross the tower to the elevator, and before the doors slide shut we’re in each other’s arms again.
SATURDAY
THURSDAY
FRIDAY
SATURDAY
21
MARK
We walked through the future and felt we were borrowing it.
Some of the people around us were famous. Some were only locally famous. None of them were teenagers.
But there we were, wandering through a mansion on Russian Hill, unclear whether we were playing a joke on them or they were playing a joke on us or if it was possible that none of this was a joke, that one day our lives would be like this, and at this moment we were getting an early glimpse, all because of a photographer I’d met at a club.
It was unclear who had money and who didn’t. It was unclear who’d been invited and who’d crashed. It was unclear what we were celebrating, other than the celebratory fact that we’d made it here, that we were in this moment. The only person who seemed completely at home wasn’t a person at all, but a cat named Renoir.
I looked around and saw the constellations, the multitude of versions of the kind of person a person could be. The alcohol and the lateness of the hour loosened people’s tongues, loosened the music from their lips. I walked through it all, holding Katie’s hand. We were Hansel and Gretel, and we had finally found the right house. The witches would let us lick the frosting from the bowl instead of hurling us into the oven.
“What are we doing here?” I asked her, again and again.
“We’re taking it in,” she replied. “We need to take it all in.”
* * *
Inevitably, Ryan has to go to the bathroom, and Taylor and I are left alone together. He’s brought over a DVD of the British version of Queer as Folk because he can’t believe we’ve never seen it, even though, in fairness, it came out before we were born. It’s paused during an act of tonguework that I hope Ryan’s parents don’t walk in and see. He hasn’t talked to them yet, but is planning to this weekend. Earlier this evening, Taylor and I helped him strategize. At one point we role-played his parents. I got to be Mom.
All in all, the night’s gone well, because after the coming-out conversation and role-play mostly we’ve been watching TV and snacking. In front of me, Ryan and Taylor haven’t done anything more affectionate than lean against each other and touch arms.
I imagine it would be different if I weren’t here. But I don’t feel pressured to leave. Not by them. And not by myself.
I can do this. For my best friend.
Somehow as I’d been mentally preparing the whole day, the just-me-and-Taylor-in-a-room-together scenario was not one I’d pictured. I’m certainly not prepared for him to say thank you. Which is exactly what he does the minute Ryan’s out of earshot.
“For what?” I ask.
He looks over, makes sure Ryan isn’t coming back. “For being with him today,” he says. “For helping him through this. For never forcing him out, which I know can’t have been easy. My best friend came out two years after me, and it nearly drove me insane.”
Of all the things that drove me insane, this was not the major one. But I don’t tell Taylor that. Instead I say, “It was his choice. It was always his choice.”
“I know. I’m just saying you’re an awesome friend. You don’t need me to tell you that at all. But just in case you ever doubt it, know that you are. I don’t know Ryan all that well yet, but I do know that.”
Go on! Shut up! Tell me more! Stop talking! My mind doesn’t know what it wants from Taylor. The more he talks about me and Ryan being friends, the less I think he knows about us. I’m glad Ryan hasn’t presented me to his new crush as a lovelorn burden. I’m glad our secrets are safe.
“I’m glad he found you,” I say. “And if you ever hurt him, I will go for the proverbial kill.”
Taylor nods. “I would expect no less.”
Ryan returns and looks like he, too, hadn’t planned on us being alone together.
“Don’t worry—it went great,” I tell him. Taylor smiles. I know I could tease right now—could pretend to have told Taylor something that Ryan wouldn’t want him to know (like, say, our sexual history). But this is a big day. There’s no room for teasing.
We go back to watching the show. The two of them cuddle closer. Ryan looks much more nervous with Taylor than he ever was with me. And he also looks much more comfortable with him than he ever was in front of anyone else with me.
This, I see, is the future.
* * *
“What are we doing here?” I asked Garrison Kline. We’d paid homage to his friends on their sofa perch. Now it was just him and the two of us. He still had his camera at the ready. His camera was always at the ready, as if something beautiful could happen at any moment.
He was checking in on me and Katie, our host even though this wasn’t his party.
“We’re going to make you the toast of the town,” he told us. “You’d be surprised how easy that is.”
“But why?” I couldn’t comprehend. “Why do that for us?” Then I couldn’t help myself. It was nagging at me too much, so I had to ask, “It’s not because you want to sleep with me, is it?”