Rainbow Boys (2 page)

But Nelson was relentless. “Of course, I always suspected—”

That was too much. Jason turned to him, but the facilitator clapped his hands again, and Nelson looked away, smiling, letting his words hang.

“My name’s A rchie. I’m today’s facilitator. Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves by first name.” A s he spoke an older girl sitting beside him interpreted his words into sign language for two deaf guys sitting by the radiator. “If this is your first time here,” the facilitator continued, “let us know, so we can welcome you. Kyle, you start, and we’ll move clockwise.” Jason slid down in his chair, furious. The phone volunteers hadn’t mentioned introductions. Kyle introduced himself. Jason still couldn’t believe seeing him here. He hung with Nelson at school, but he looked so … normal—the shy swimmer kid with glasses who always wore a baseball cap. Everyone kidded him about it, but he just laughed along with that goofy grin of gleaming braces. He’s okay, Jason thought, in spite of knocking over the chairs and embarrassing the shit out of me.

The circle of introductions continued. It was a pretty diverse-looking group. Only a few of the guys looked as faggy as Nelson. There were some geeks. One college-aged guy named Blake could’ve been a fashion model. A group of blond preppies, wearing khakis and loafers, monopolized the cooler side of the room.

There were a lot of girls. When a girl with boxy glasses introduced herself, Jason could’ve sworn he’d seen her before. Then he remembered her picture from the Post. She was one of six high school seniors nationwide to score perfect SATs. When the paper interviewed her, she’d come out as a lesbian.

A cross the room, a black girl and a white girl, Caitlin and Shea, sat on a love seat. Earlier Shea had exchanged glances with Nelson. A t first Jason thought her gestures were about him, but he wasn’t sure. Now the two girls were all over each other. Both were pretty—not his idea of dykes. It was hard to believe they couldn’t find guys to like them. He should get Shea’s phone number, he thought. She was probably just confused, like him. Maybe they could help each other.

Then it was Jason’s turn to introduce himself. He sat up straight in his chair and felt the tension in his shoulders. “My name’s Jason. It’s my first time here, but … I’m not …” His throat felt parched. “I mean, I’m just here to see what it’s like. I’m not … you know …” Everyone stared at him while he tried to finish.

A rchie rescued him with, “Welcome, Jason,” and moved on.

Jason slid down into his chair again.

Nelson bounced up in his seat. “My name’s Nelson, and it’s my first time queer—I mean, here.” Everyone laughed, and he continued:

“In my case there is no doubt that I most definitely am”—He turned and grinned at Jason—“you know …” Jason wanted to deck him right then and there.

“Seriously,” Nelson said, grabbing his backpack, “I want to announce that I have queer visibility buttons, courtesy of my mom and PFLA G.” He turned to Jason again. “That’s Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. My mom is vice president.” He pulled the buttons from his backpack. “Lovely pink triangles, Gertrude Stein pins, and a variety of slogans. Here’s one: ‘My parents are straight and all I got is this lousy button.’”

The group laughed.

“Et cetera, et cetera. If you want one, see me at the break.”

“Okay, everyone,” A rchie said. “Today we’re going to talk about ‘coming out.’ What do we mean by that?” Caitlin’s hand went up. “It’s when you stop hiding that you’re queer—or bisexual, or whatever.” A boy raised his hand. “I thought coming out meant the first time you do it—you know—with someone your own sex.”

“That’s when you come,” Nelson said. “Not come out.”

The group hissed, and the boy threw a pillow at Nelson.

A rchie smiled. “Let’s keep it clean.” He motioned for the group to settle down. “Some people don’t come out until after they’ve had sex for years. Others come out before they’ve had sex with anyone.”

“Coming out means you’re no longer ashamed to tell people,” said Shea. “It’s a question of liking yourself and feeling good about being gay.”

One of the blond preppies crossed his arms. “I’m not ready to come out.”

“No one says you have to,” the facilitator reassured him. “Most people do it gradually. Take your own time, it’s up to you.” Nelson turned to Jason and winked. “I’ve been thinking about starting a group like this at school, to help people who haven’t come out yet.”

Jason averted his gaze. The thought of a gay group at school was beyond belief.

“I think coming out is hardest with parents,” said Blake.

Kyle nodded.

Jason thought about his own mom. She already had enough to handle with his dad. A nd his dad would surely finish what he’d once started—if he knew where his son was.

Blake continued: “My dad couldn’t understand how I’d gone out with girls and then suddenly told him I liked guys. I think it’s even harder if you’re bi.”

Jason stopped jiggling his leg. Bisexual? Maybe that’s what he was. Maybe he didn’t have to stop going out with Debra. Maybe she would understand. But …? His mind spun with questions.

Before anyone else could speak, two adults stepped into the room carrying fans. Everyone cheered and applauded. Over the roar A rchie shouted, “Let’s take a break and set up the fans.”

Jason sprang to his feet, his chair scraping the floorboards. “I better go,” he told Kyle.

“You’re leaving?”

Jason heard the disappointment in Kyle’s voice and was about to answer, when Nelson broke in. “Don’t leave yet. A fter the meeting we go to Burger Queen.” He batted his eyelashes and smiled. “Just us girls.” Jason winced. He saw Kyle jab Nelson in the ribs.

Jason’s fingers curled into a fist. He had to get out of there before he punched someone. “I need to go.” Nelson reached into his backpack. “A t least take a button.” He grinned. “It’s a gift.” Jason shook his head, but Nelson shoved the button at him anyway. Kyle started to speak. Jason turned and raced for the door. He bounded down the four flights of stairs and burst from the building, cursing himself.

He’d have to brace himself for Monday. Nelson would no doubt shoot off his queer mouth at school. A nd if people at school found out

…

Jason opened his hand and looked at the button the little fag had given him. It read: NOBODY KNOW S I’M GAY.

Kyle stared at the empty doorway. “I can’t believe I was such a spaz, knocking the damn chairs over.” He turned to Nelson. “A nd you!

Giving him that stupid button. Why’d you do that?”

Nelson gave a contrite shrug. “I guess I screwed up, didn’t I?”

Kyle glanced toward the door. “Maybe I can catch up with him.”

In an instant, he raced through the door and down the four flights. When he reached the front stoop, he looked down one end of the street, then the other. Had the man of his dreams really shown up at the meeting? He searched every block around the neighborhood.

Only after he was completely convinced Jason was nowhere to be found did he grudgingly board the Metro toward the suburbs.

Crestfallen, he cursed Nelson all the way home.

• • • • • • • • • •

Deep in thought, Kyle had failed to see his mom kneeling by the front-lawn flower bed.

She grabbed a handful of tulip bulbs. “You look a little troubled.”

Kyle watched her plant the bulbs in the newly dug earth, wishing he could tell her about Jason. Of course, first he’d have to tell her he was gay. She’d get upset and tell his dad. He’d make a federal case out of it. Guaranteed.

Kyle handed her some bulbs. “I’m fine. Is there anything to eat?”

“Cookies, in the kitchen. Be careful, I just waxed the floor. By the way, Dad has a surprise for you.” She called after him. “Remember to wipe your feet!”

Kyle kicked his shoes off inside the front door and set them on the shelf for shoes. His mom was pretty obsessive about cleanliness. His dad sat in his recliner watching a football game. Kyle grabbed a couple of cookies. “Mom said you have a surprise for me.” His dad reached into his shirt pocket and with a flourish whipped out an envelope. “Ta-dah! Guess. Come on.” Kyle hated when his dad treated him like a kid. He was seventeen now. “I don’t want to guess.” He bit into a cookie.

His dad’s mouth drooped. “You used to love to guess.” He sighed and opened the envelope, revealing the contents like he was at the A cademy A wards or something. “Tickets to the Redskins, the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Just you and me.” Kyle said, “Great.” But his mind was still on Jason.

His dad frowned. “Don’t look so excited.”

Kyle shrugged and started up the stairs. Didn’t his dad realize there were more important things in life than tickets to the Redskins?

He sat down on his bed and took his cap off. He opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out his yearbook. He turned the dog-eared pages to his favorite picture: Jason, number seventy-seven, was racing down the court, intensity on his face, curls flying, muscles taut, sheer power in motion. The crowd was cheering in the background. The digital clock showed six seconds before the final buzzer. His shot had led the team to the state championships.

Kyle had met Jason on his first day of high school as he jostled through the crowded halls, searching for his homeroom.

“Hey, wha’s up?” called a voice behind him. “You dropped your schedule.”

When Kyle turned, the cutest boy he’d ever seen handed him his schedule and asked, “Know where room one twenty-eight is?” Kyle’s heart wedged in his throat, but he managed to cough up an answer. “I think it’s this way.” He led the boy down the hall and discovered that their lockers faced each other.

For the rest of his freshman year Kyle arrived at school early enough to greet Jason. His olive-skinned A donis always waved a friendly

“Wha’s up?” but Kyle felt too shy to respond with anything beyond, “Okay, how about you?” He contented himself with stealing glimpses in the halls. Before long he’d memorized Jason’s schedule, knowing the exact instant when he would turn the corner and pass by.

Since Kyle was little, he’d known he was different, though he couldn’t explain exactly how. When other boys began to talk about girls, he never felt interested. But it was another story when they bragged about their erections and first ejaculations.

A nd while he laughed with classmates at fag and A IDS jokes, on the inside he felt ashamed and frightened. His one source of hope was the nightly news, where he saw images of gay people different from the caricatures of jokes. Gay soldiers battled in court for the right to serve in the military. Lesbian moms fought to keep their children. Protesters picketed Congress for A IDS funding. Even the grown men in high heels and elaborate costumes who laughed and paraded on Pride Day seemed anything but despicable.

Then in eighth grade he got braces. That made him feel even more like an alien. His mom tried to cheer him up. “Don’t worry, handsome. Once you get your braces off, you’ll have to fight off the girls.” Whoopee. The image failed to comfort him.

Meanwhile, his dad nagged him to go out for sports. Kyle couldn’t throw a ball to save his life, but he liked watching the Olympic swimmers on TV. So he joined the swim team, where he hid among laps in the pool and stole underwater glances.

He was just getting used to being called Metal Mouth Meeks when disaster struck again. The school nurse said he needed glasses. He came home from the optometrist’s with wire frames sliding down his nose, retreated to his bedroom, and stared in the mirror. Between braces and glasses, he felt like the ugliest, most lonely boy in the universe.

Then he met Nelson. From the moment he first saw him in art class, Kyle knew Nelson was different. But when Ms. MacTraugh paired them up to draw each other’s portraits, Kyle panicked and asked to be excused to the infirmary.

A fter school, Nelson tracked him down. “Let’s get this out. You know I’m queer, I know you’re queer. Get over it.” He turned and started to walk away.

Kyle felt a rush, like he’d burst from the water after a high dive. He was no longer alone. “Hey!” he shouted.

Nelson turned back toward him. Kyle wasn’t sure what to say. He’d called out on impulse, without thinking. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and tugged on his cap, stalling. “Uh, you draw really well. I mean it.” Nelson stared at him. “Thanks. My mom’s a graphic designer. She taught me. It’s not that hard, really.” Kyle stepped closer, even though he still felt a little nervous. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Nelson smiled. “I’ll show you.”

Soon Kyle was spending every afternoon at Nelson’s. They wrestled without dumb rules and did mud facials together. With Nelson, Kyle didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than himself.

A nd Nelson seemed to know everything about being gay. He told Kyle about A lexander the Great, Oscar Wilde, and Michelangelo. He explained the Stonewall Riots and defined words like cruising and drag. He told Kyle about gay youth Web sites and introduced him to out music groups like Size Queen and Indigo Girls.