Chapter 15: Alliances (page 2)
by Emmet
Tad stood up. “Well, then…” he said lamely. “I guess I should get going…”
I went back into the other room and got the rest of the cups. As I reentered the kitchen, I heard Grace say, “So, still want to help publicize the dance?”.
“Yeah, yeah. I said I would. Besides…” Tad looked over at me. “Never mind. Listen, Grace – do you want to get a Coke or something somewhere?”
Seemed like the blood was draining from all my extremities, leaving me to feel transparent, amorphous, no solid ground. Of course boys her own age would pursue Grace. Anyone with any intelligence would recognize her original beauty, see the amazing person there. And she was flattered by Tad’s attention once, she liked it, she had confessed to me. Flirting. She need make no excuses to me, we did not have -- what didn’t we have? I felt the floor tilt underneath me, stumbled, dropped the tray of cups I was carrying. “Damn,” I said, looking at the mess of spilled drinks.
Startled, Grace and Tad looked over where I was.
“Bummer, man!” Tad observed.
“Everything okay?” Grace asked.
“Fine, fine, just tripped on the rug,” I excused, glad I had used plastic cups at least. I sidestepped the mess and grabbed a wad of paper towels and a trash bag.
“Grace?” Tad prompted.
My back was to them as I crouched down, lifting cups into the trash and wiping the sticky pool of spilled sodas. I felt Grace’s eyes upon me as I heard her say, “Actually, Tad, I can’t.” No elaboration. My tensed shoulders relaxed, a flush of relief waved through me. I concentrated on cleaning, letting the white towels absorb the liquid. I heard Grace cross the room and open the refrigerator, putting away the cheese. I stood, turned to see Tad pick up his backpack, shrug on his jacket.
“I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” he said. Grace, leaning against the fridge, nodded. “Bye Mr. Dimitri,” he called. And then was gone. I tore off more paper towels. Grace reached under the sink, then brought me a spray bottle of cleaner. “There’s no rug here,” she said, indicating where I had dropped the tray.
“No,” I said, bending down again and spraying the floor. Grace crouched opposite me and wiped the floor with a dry paper towel. “Clumsy, I guess.” Our eyes met. I opened my mouth to say something, but what? Words that had to remain unsaid, words it was not my place to say. I stood, took the soiled towel from Grace, threw it away. She sat in the chair Tad had vacated.
“Jessie’s gay,” she said.
“What?”
“I think she and Katie Singer are, like, a couple.”
“You didn’t tell Tad that.”
“It’s not my place to. She hasn’t even told me, I just know because – well, I just know.”
“My sister’s a lesbian,” I said. “That time, that first meeting, you started to ask me about being involved with the Alliance…”
“When… you got that phone call…” she said.
“Yes. Well, that’s why I think the Alliance is so important, and why I’m glad, in spite of everything, that you were able to convince the board to fund the dance. I kind of promised June I’d make sure the Gay/Straight Alliance worked at Sinclair. She had a tough time in high school, and none of us knew why then.”
“You didn’t know she was gay?”
“Not until she was a junior in college, and I was in India. People weren’t gay in high school when I went to high school. It just, it wasn’t even considered as a possibility that anyone could be.”
“Wow,” Grace said. “That’s so, like, homophobic.”
“But it wasn’t even that it was homophobic, then,” I said, leaning both elbows on the counter, wishing for a glass of wine. “It was more homo-ignorant. Not that people would have been that nice, either, had they thought about it.”
“Okay,” she said. “So maybe, now, I do care about the Gay/Straight Alliance. And the… dance.” She looked at her watch. “Shoot! I told Jessie I’d be there in one minute. I better go.” I retrieved her jacket from the other room and held it as she slipped her arms into each sleeve.
“So how’s next Wednesday for the next meeting?” I asked.
“Actually… next Wednesday’s my, um, birthday,” she said. “I’ll be 17.”
“Seventeen,” I echoed, thinking how much older it sounded than 16, that in a matter of a week she would be closer in age to me by a year, that somehow the difference wasn’t so bad then.
“And my family’s, like planning a dinner and everything. At my Dad’s, I mean my Aunt’s restaurant bookstore place. Book Lovers.”
“That’s your family?” I asked. “That’s a great store. Eclectic selection. Well, I wish you a happy birthday. Why don’t we meet on Thursday, then?”
“Great,” she said. “Well, I’m off.” She stood hesitantly at the door. But I stayed safely behind the counter.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Good evening, fair Grace,” and I bowed with a flourish. She laughed, and left.