Chapter Text
John wasn’t blind.
He could see them, the girls, the boys, even the teachers, staring at him. Staring at them.
John and Martha. Martha and John. Patty and her John. John and his Patty. If he had to hear one more variation of those two names side by side, he would scream.
The first day was the worst. It was the first time they came to school together.
John hadn’t picked Alex up in his car that morning. No, he had driven in the opposite direction, straight to Martha’s clean neat orderly house with a clean neat orderly lawn and a couple of clean neat orderly parents.
They drove quickly, not fast enough to break any laws, but fast enough for the wind rushing through the open windows to eliminate any opportunity for conversation.
They had strutted into school like a couple of fools, Martha hanging onto John’s arm, John practically dragging her along behind him.
He pretended not to see the looks they got. Not to see groups of friends that whispered as they passed by. But he could see.
He wasn’t blind.
But Martha was.
Or she did a very good job of acting like it at least. She had eyes only for him. It was bad enough, he thought, that they shared every class, and she insisted on sitting right beside him in each one. But no, they had to eat lunch together too. Didn’t the girl have any other friends?
He would much rather be sitting with Alex.
He glanced over his shoulder at Alex, Gil beside him, sitting a good ten yards behind himself and Martha. What he wouldn’t give…
“What do you think?” Martha asked him, snapping his attention back to the conversation at hand.
“Yeah- um, I,” John fumbled, then gave up. “Sorry, what was the question?” He ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, looking into his lap. “I spaced out there for a second.”
Martha smiled at him, big and full and genuine, with a hint of a laugh creeping in at the edges. It was like she thought his mumbling was cute or something. He stifled the gag building up in his throat. Cute. A Laurens. John Laurens. Cute? No. It was absurd, preposterous, completely outside the realm of possibili-
“I was just asking if you wanted to go out for a picnic on Sunday,” Martha explained, interrupting his train of thought. She took a dainty bite of her sandwich, chewing and swallowing before she continued. “A few of my friends will be there. Their boyfriends too. I just thought, I don’t know, it might be a nice chance for you to meet some of them.”
John scrunched his eyebrows together, staring off into the distance, pretending to contemplate his answer. “Well, I would really love to,” he paused, “but I have plans this weekend.”
Martha’s face fell, and she looked down into her lap. “Oh,” she murmured, but her face brightened quickly at another thought. “Can I join you then? I don’t mind what we do,” she said, scooting closer to John and clasping his hand in her own, “I’d just like to spend some time with my boyfriend.”
He nodded at her, sympathetically he hoped. In truth, he had no plans. He just couldn't think of a worse fate than spending the day picnicking with Martha and some of her equally boring friends. But he couldn’t tell her that...
John racked his brain for a good excuse. He would need to spend time with her eventually, to keep the image of the courtship up, but maybe he could escape just this weekend.
“Yeah,” he drew out the word, “Sorry, but I don’t think so. I was gonna chill with Alex and Gil. Down by the creek. It’s kind of an… us thing.” He felt bad saying it, but there was no gentler way to let her down.
Well, there probably was, but he didn’t have the time to think of it now.
Martha nodded solemnly at John, taking another small bite. “Well then, next weekend,” she smiled.
John smiled too, trying not to let a grimace slip in. “Definitely.”
“And then she invites me to spend time with her friends- and their boyfriends- and when I say that I’m busy she goes as far as to ask to join me. In. My. Own. Plans.” John huffed out an exasperated breath. “I mean really, who does she think she is?”
Alex looked up at him from his seat under the oak tree, raising his eyebrows just slightly, giving John an exasperated look.
John stopped his pacing, looking down on his sitting friend. “What?” he asked, defensive now.
Alex leaned backwards, supporting himself on the trunk of the tree. He let out a deep sigh. “John,” he trailed off, “I hate to say this but I think you’re being too hard on her.”
John opened his mouth as if to protest, but Alex’s look shut him down. “Just hear me out,” Alex reasoned.
John huffed out a quick breath, plopping down next to his friend. “Fine,” he grumbled, “go ahead.”
“She thinks that she’s your girlfriend. And she has every right to. In any other situation, what she’s doing would be fine. Encouraged, even praised!” Alex turned his gaze away from John, as if ashamed of the words leaving his mouth. “In this situation what she’s doing is fine.”
He turned back to John, giving him a look pleading for understanding. “It pains me to say it. More than you could know. But like it or not, she’s not the one in the wrong in this situation.”
“Oh, and I am?” John snapped back.
“Well last I checked Patty wasn’t the one with a secret boyfriend,” Alex scoffed, “So yeah, I’d say you are.”
“I-” John started, but stopped. There really was no refuting that point. It was… true, he supposed. “Fine then,” he conceded.
He paused, mulling over Alex’s retort. He smiled cheekily. “You’re saying we’re boyfriends then?” he asked, a tease in his voice.
Alex chuckled, shaking his head playfully, the tension of the moment drained. “Maybe,” he drawled, taking John’s hand in his own and stroking it gently. “If you’d like to be, that is.”
John leaned forwards, placing a gentle kiss on Alex’s mouth in answer. His boyfriend held it for just a few seconds before pulling away, looking around nervously. “We really shouldn’t,” he cautioned reluctantly, “In broad daylight…”
“No one’s around,” John whined, leaning forwards once again, stopped this time by Alex’s hand.
“Kissing can’t solve all your problems, you know,” he chastised gently. “We’ve got bigger things to deal with.”
“Like what,” John pouted.
Alex gave him a look. “Like what you’re going to do about Patty…”
“Who says I have to do anything about Patty?” John sneered. Alex tensed up at his tone, but John kept going. “What do you want me to do? Suffer through a Sunday picnic with the most boring people I can name?”
“Yes,” Alex snapped bluntly, his humor gone, his shoulders tucked up near his ears again.
“Why though,” John whined. He didn’t see what good it would do. “It’s just a weekend… there will be others!”
Alex laughed dryly, a sarcastic noise really. “Listen,” he started “you can’t just go galavanting around with me and Gil every weekend and expect everything to work out alright. I hate it, and I know you hate it, but you have to spend time with her. Especially this early on.” He leaned his head to rest on John’s shoulder, lowering his voice. “Your father is watching every single move we make. One false step…”
John shook himself, pushing Alex away. “I know, I know! I just...” he turned back, eyes pleading, “I’m sorry baby, I don’t even fucking know. I just…”
Alex nodded solemnly, his contempt gone. “It’s to keep you safe.” John made a face at that. “To keep us safe,” Alex amended, then, in a whisper, “To keep me safe.”
“Alex…” John protested. He knew what he was doing. He knew Alex knew how to play with him, how to evoke certain feelings from him. He knew he would never say something like that, something that… selfish wasn’t quite the word, but that sort of self-centered desire- even if it was true, it wasn’t Alex. It didn’t stop his heart from dropping to his toes though, suddenly burdened with chains of guilt.
To keep Alex safe…
John brought a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. He felt tired all of a sudden, worn out, exhausted. He just wanted to curl up in a nice warm bed, with a heavy blanket and a bowl of soup. Alex too, if he was dreaming big.
To keep Alex safe.
“Fine,” he conceded, “but I’ll be miserable, and you’ll have no choice but to listen to me complain to you over the phone for hours on end.”
Alex smiled, a touch of sadness in his expression. “I’d expect nothing less.”
“Dad?” John called, slamming the door shut behind him, “I’m home.” He shrugged his coat off, hanging it on the coat hook, his fingers lingering on the cool metal. It had taken ages to get the blood off that one…
“Oh, good,” Henry said, his deep voice bringing John back to the task at hand. He had emerged from the family room and behind him, John could make out Harry, Jemmy, and Pasty all sitting around the coffee table, Polly crawling around on the floor beside them. “The kids and I were just sitting down to a game of Monopoly. Would you care to join us?”
“Um, sure,” John said., It was rare that their dad did anything with them, he usually left the entertainment to Matilda and Gertrude, the maids, or John himself. It was a Friday night though, maybe he had decided to be a good attentive father for once.
John followed his dad into the spacious living room. The board game was already set up, and all his siblings had placed their pieces on the go position. The thimble, car, train, and dog had all been taken, leaving him with the shoe and hat.
John plopped down on the floor, plucking the hat from the box and putting it on the start square. He looked to his dad. “You’re the banker?” he asked, the question more of a formality than anything else. Dad was always the banker.
But his father, instead of a gruff “yes of course don’t be stupid” just smiled slightly, pushing the box with the toy money arranged neatly inside to John. John raised his eyebrows.
“You have a go at it,” Dad said, “soon you’ll be a grown man with a big family. Can’t have you clueless on how to play a classic game.”
John huffed out a short laugh, “Yeah yeah sure,” he grabbed the money box, taking the fives from it and fiddling with them. “Who’s first?”
The game was… a disaster. To put it kindly.
John didn’t know what he was doing. He thought it would be easy, managing the money, but he had never had a knack for numbers, and he kept getting confused. One hundred there, forty here, a property card every other turn… it was exhausting.
There were still a few streets left for sale when Dad called the game. He planted his big hands firmly on the table, pushing himself up. “I think that’s enough now, don’t you all?” It wasn't a real question, and they all knew it, but Dad was done so they would have to be too.
“Yeah,” Harry said, “that was… fun.” John didn’t miss the elongated pause before that very inaccurate conclusion.
“Pasty,” Jemmy asked, tugging on his older sister’s arm, “Why is Jack so bad at the game?”
Pasty put a hand over her mouth, trying to hide her chuckle, but not doing very well. “He’s not bad, he just doesn't have a lot of practice, that’s all.” She looked to John, but he only laughed.
“The truth, Jemmy,” he said, kneeling down to look into the little boy’s somber eyes, “is that when I was very young, a monster came and stole all my banking skills right out of here.” He tapped his head with a finger, smiling as his brother’s eyes widened. “Now you must be very careful because that very same monster still lives in this house and-”
“Now now John,” Dad cut in, “that’s enough of that. You’ll scare the children.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Jemmy pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t get scared.”
“You do too!” Harry interrupted. “You’re scared of the dark because you think a monster will come out of the closet and claw your eyes from your-”
“Okay now enough of that,” John said, picking the now shaking in terror Jemmy up. “It’s all ok, it’s fine, there are no monsters in the dark.” He bounced him gently in his arms. Jemmy was getting too old for this. He needed to learn to outgrow these childish fears or… well John didn’t know what was after the or but it couldn’t be anything good. “It’s time for bed, I think,” John put his brother down, banishing any other thoughts from his mind. “Say goodnight to Dad now kids.”
One by one, they each gave their father a hug. For as cold and uncaring as he could be, Dad always made sure to be there before bed, and even if it was John tucking them in, he didn’t miss the goodnights. Could a man like that really do all the terrible things John knew he had done?
John thought about that, as he made his way up the stairs, tucked each one of his siblings in, and gave their foreheads a gentle kiss. Yes, he decided. Because a person could have more than one side. Hell, he was a living breathing example of just that.
When the kids were fast asleep, John made his way back downstairs, quietly, so as not to wake anyone.
He approached the phone, pausing in front of it. He dug around in his pocket, fishing out the scrap of paper he had scribbled Martha’s number on. He had made a silent pact to himself, not to memorize it, not to brand her into his brain in one more way. A paper would do.
He heard his father’s heavy footsteps behind him and turned quickly. “What are you doing?” Dad asked, perfectly naturally.
“Just calling Martha,” John replied calmly, ignoring the way the name burned his throat, scorched his tongue, singed his lips. “I’m going to go to a picnic. On Sunday. With some other friends.” He waited. His father was scary good at catching lies. John wasn’t lying, but he didn’t feel like he was being completely honest. He never did anymore.
But Henry just smiled, small but genuine. “Good good, I’m glad you’re spending more time with that girl. She's nice, from a good family… would make a respectable wife.”
John laughed, short and coarse. “Well, it’s a little early to start thinking about marriage.” His father was silent. “Isn't it?” John prompted.
Henry nodded, but John didn’t think he imagined the condescending gaze that went with it. “Of course it is. Now then, I’ll leave you to it.” With that, his dad walked off.
John took a deep breath, enough stalling, enough awkward conversations. He dialed the number.
“Hello?” a delicate voice asked from the other end. Martha.
John cleared his throat. “Um, hello Martha.” He waited for a second. “The one and only,” he added. He heard a quiet laugh on the other end of the line, and he felt a bit of color rush to his cheeks. Maybe… maybe this didn't have to be so bad. Maybe he could make do. But then she spoke again and ruined any possible chance of a not-so-bad evening.
“What is it, Johnny? Can I call you Johnny?” she asked, all sweet and innocent like. John shuttered- no way in hell would anyone ever call him Johnny- but he forced himself to remain calm.
“No, please,” he kept his tone even, “just John. Johnny makes me sound like a toddler.”
“Of course,” Martha said, “No, I wouldn’t dream of doing it again.”
He took the curly wire in his hands, fiddling with it. “Well, I called because, um, well, because I wanted to accept your invitation to the picnic. On Sunday.”
“You do?” Martha squealed from the other end, he could practically feel her excitement over the line. “Oh, oh that's just wonderful. Yes, yes, I’ll call Sue and Hannah and Ashley in the morning- oh they’ll be just thrilled.” She paused. “John?”
“Yes?” John asked, trying to muster as much excitement as possible. “Anything the matter?”
“Well,” she started, voice wary. She sounded like a nervous alley cat, hungry for the milk in the dish right in front of you, but scared that you might snatch her up. Eat her for dinner. “I was just wondering… why?”
John laughed awkwardly. “Do I uh, need an invitation to be with my uh… girl… friend…”. That was the first time he had said that. Fuck, he wanted to stab someone, right in the gut. Preferably himself.
“Oh, no,” Martha tittered, laughing just a bit, “but I know you were going to be with Alex and Gil and I know how special they are to you and, my father’s always saying that a man needs time to himself with his own friends and-”
“They’re sick,” John blurted out, just to get her to stop blathering on. “Whooping cough. Both of them.”
“Oh no .” Well hell, she sounded genuinely concerned. “Oh no John, that's so terrible,” Martha’s voice rose in pitch. “Are you sure you’re well, I mean I don’t want you-”
“I’m fine, really,” John interrupted once again, “just, don’t kiss me or anything.”
Martha gasped from the other end of the line. “John,” she drawled, her tone borderline scandalous, “really, we’ve only been seeing each other for a few days, I wouldn’t go-”
“It was a joke.”
“Oh. Yes, yes of course.”
They stayed on the line, the silence growing, the pressure increasing, bit by creeping bit.
“Well!” John exclaimed, too loud, too happy, he chided himself, “It’s late, I’ve got to turn in. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, until then. Good ni-” the phone beeped as John hung it up, and he winced slightly. Oops. Martha liked to talk- a lot. He would have to remember that, for future calls.
John picked up the phone, his body going on autopilot as he typed in the more-than-familiar number. The dial tone rang once, twice, then someone picked up. “Hey baby, how are you,” John asked.
“Fucking hell John, you can’t just lead with that,” Alex huffed out an angry breath. “What if I was my dad?”
“If you were your dad I would have known,” John leaned his back against the wall next to the phone, crossing one leg over the other. He breathed out a bit of his tension, letting his perfect posture go. “He breathes like a fat pig.”
A distorted scoff came from the other end, like Alex was trying to smother a laugh. “Still,” came his voice, this time at full volume, “please be a little more careful.”
“Okay, babe. For you.” John smiled. Anything for Alex. “Oh, by the way, you’re sick.”
“What?”
“Whooping cough. It's why we can’t hang out over the weekend and why I’m going to her dumb picnic.”
“Well, thanks for letting me down slowly.”
John sighed. “You got what you wanted.”
“No,” Alex replied, “But I’m glad you did what you needed to do. Don’t worry, I'll be sure to cough in her face on Monday.”
John laughed, “Thanks sweetheart. I… um… I…” he paused. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Romeo.”
“Oh, stab your heart out,” John scoffed.
“Happily. So long as we can do it together.” Alex moved, the sounds he made amplified over the little speaker. “Shit, my dad’s coming down the stairs. Talk soon.”
“Yeah, tomorrow,” John lowered his voice. “Sleep well, good-” the beep sounded as Alex hung up on him. John carefully replaced the phone in its cradle, tiptoed quietly up the stairs, and fell into a deep sleep.
The picnic was… well it could have been worse. The girls were all boring, talking about knitting or homework or the new movies coming out, but the guys were better. They talked about sports and cars, neither of which John was particularly passionate about, but they were areas that he at least had general knowledge in. As much as he hated it, sometimes his father’s “education in common masculinity” turned out to be useful.
Through the whole ordeal, John mostly just zoned out, picking at the cold chicken leg on his paper plate, sipping at the lemonade in his plastic cup. He sat on a blanket, Martha at his side. A few times, she had placed her hand on top of his. He had never pulled away, not immediately- though god only knew how much he wanted to- but always found a reason to eventually. Another thing to drink, a napkin flying away in the wind, that kind of thing.
Every time he made contact with her, her soft skin brushing his rougher hand, arm, neck, he felt waves of ice rolling down his body. It sent little shocks down his spine, and not the good kind. It felt wrong, bad, not at all like the little bursts of lightning that danced through his body when he touched Alex. He felt tainted by the cold Martha infected him with, he could only hope and pray that Alex would bring the warmth back soon.
As the picnic was winding down, it was approaching three o’clock, and everyone was headed out with their respective mates. Charles and Hannah, Lee and Ashley, Ray and Sue. Martha stood up, brushing off the front of her skirt.
“Will you help me fold the blanket?” she asked. John nodded, standing up and clearing their plates from the blue and white checkered cloth. He grabbed two corners, and Martha did as well. They folded in silence, in half, then in half again, together, apart, and together again. They stood there, just inches away, neither of them letting go.
Martha closed her eyes, tilting her head up at him, opening her mouth just slightly. It looked like something Alex might do, if it was a quiet afternoon and they were hidden on the shore of the creek, hidden by one of the big old trees. John might have reached out, cupped Alex’s face in his hands and-
Holy shit. Martha wanted him to kiss her. The realization sent a jolt through his body and he jumped back, tearing the blanket out of her hands. He could barely touch the girl of his own free will, let alone…
Martha’s eyes popped open, and her mouth snapped shut. A bright red flush of embarrassment flamed across her face and she quickly looked to the floor. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “I shouldn’t have…”
“No,” John snapped, “you really shouldn’t.” Felt a wave of shame rise up in him. What would Alex say? “The uh… whooping cough,” he said, with a cadence he hoped came across as soothing rather than a drunk monkey. “I wouldn’t want you to catch it. Just in case I do have it. And I don’t know. Or something.”
“Yes, yes,” Martha said, nodding solemnly, “I do apologize, I’d completely forgotten. I got… a bit carried away I suppose.”
“Oh, don’t fret Martha. I’m sure I would have done the same.” Yeah, if she was Alex. John silently cursed the voice in his head. It didn’t have to be that cruel. “But then again, we have only been seeing each other for… well not long. It might be better if we waited. For all of those kinds of things.”
“Oh," Martha’s face grew red again. It had quite a habitat of doing that. “Yes, that sounds quite wise.”
“Well then!” John exclaimed, handing Martha the blanket, “I’d best be off. Have a nice day.”
“And you as well! You’ll pick me up tomorrow?” Martha asked.
“I’ll be there.”
The next weeks passed in a blur of adjustment. Less Alex, more Martha, John just had to learn to cope. The two of them, him and Martha that is, hadn’t done anything together since the picnic. They hadn’t really been on a date, since the first one that was. They just saw each other in school, ate lunch together, and went out with a group of other kids every once and a while. But those weren’t dates. John could feel Martha’s uneasiness grow, by the day even. He would have to do something, and soon.
The end of school brought the perfect opportunity. The posters advertising the junior-senior dance were everywhere. This year’s theme was a masquerade ball, and though it sounded like a stupid waste of time to John, it was all anyone could talk about. He broached the subject with Martha during lunch.
“Martha,” he turned to fully face her, “I was thinking.”
“Yes?” she asked, looking up from her chicken salad. Damn, he missed Alex. He missed the smart retorts, the whip-fast responses.
“Alex, I was thinking-”
“Well, that’s a first”
“Oh please.”
“Am I wrong?”
John could practically taste the smile that would rest on his lips, could easily see himself steal his boyfriend’s next words right from his mouth. Kissing was by far the easiest way to get that boy to shut up. John scanned the courtyard crowd for Alex. He hadn’t seen him yet today, an experience that was getting frighteningly common.
“You were thinking…” Martha prompted.
“Yes,” John forced a smile, “would you like to go with me. To the dance.”
Martha beamed, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Johnny-” he grimaced, “sorry, John,” she corrected, “oh, I thought you’d never ask. Yes, yes I’d love to really.”
John nodded, trying to look half as excited as her. “That's great. Marvelous really.”
“Ashley and Hannah, they said you wouldn’t actually invite me, being that it's this weekend and all, but I knew, oh I knew deep in my heart that you had just the time in mind and that you…”
John nodded along, smiling, grunting in agreement, when necessary, but her words were in one ear and out the other. She sure did like to ramble. She was nothing like Alex. Alex liked to talk just to hear himself speak, sure, but… well John liked the sound of his voice, and if he was being totally honest, he didn’t like Martha's. It was too soft, too lilty.
John looked past Martha- oh, there he was. Alex sat, back to a tree, reading something or other. John willed him to turn, to see him there, to take in his smile and give him one in return.
“But that would be okay, right?” Martha asked, and John snapped back to the conversation at hand.
“Repeat that, will you? I just got distracted.”
Martha smiled, like she found his absent-mindedness cute or something of that nature. “Sue and I? Going in our matching costumes? We’ve already bought the dresses. You know she's having a bit of trouble with Ray, so I thought it might cheer her up, since we both didn't have dates.” She paused. “At the time…”
“Oh, yeah,” John nodded. “Yes, that would be quite fine.”
“It’s yellow,” Martha daintily picked up her fork, spearing a piece of chicken.
“Hmm?”
“The dress.” She ate it, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “In case you were wondering what tie to wear.”
“Oh. Right.”
The creek was cool. The water, still cold, even in early June, ran at a steady pace, and a nice breeze blew through the trees and grass. The old oaks and sycamores made large circles of shade in the tall grass, which reached almost to John’s knees. Soon, the farmer that lived a few miles from this spot would bring his lawn mower in, take down the grasses until they were but inches above the soil.
But for now, the grass stood tall, tall enough to swallow a man up if he were laying down. It did just as well with two.
John met Alex by the creek less now. What had been an everyday thing had fallen to just one or two times during the week. Well, John reasoned, at least they were seeing each other. If Martha hadn’t been there, as a shield… he shuddered at the thought.
He still spent most of his weekends with Alex, walking around town, at Gil’s house, or just down here. He had worked it out. If he spent most of the week with Martha, he could afford to spend the weekends away. At least Alex was still with them, at school, but it wasn’t the same.
It was only really okay when they were alone. Together.
John heard the soft russell of grass and he stood, looking at Alex. A smile bloomed on his boyfriend’s face, happiness rivaled by only John’s own expression.
Alex ran to John, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before grabbing his hand, pulling him down to sit in the grass.
They just looked at each other, goofy grins only growing wider. John plucked a piece of grass from the ground, sticking the end in his mouth. Alex laughed. “What is it, baby?” John asked.
“Nothing,” Alex said through chuckles, “You just look like a farmer.”
John scoffed, “What’s wrong,” he put on a horribly exaggerated southern accent, “You don’t like an honest workin man much?” Alex only laughed harder.
This was what they did at the creek, they laughed, they talked, they were the carefree teenage boys they ought to be.
The sun dipped low in the sky, the fleeting light depleting away what little time John and Alex had together.
“So do you want to hang out? On Friday?” Alex asked.
John grimaced, “Can’t. I've got to go to the dance. With Martha.”
“Oh.” Alex looked down, playing with a piece of long grass.
“Hey,” John reached for Alex’s hand, stroking it in his, “You know I’m only doing this because I have to. Believe me I would much rather not be going. Or,” he smiled mischievously, “If I did have to go, I’d much rather take you.”
Alex rolled his eyes, but John could see the smile fighting its way onto his lips. “Come here sweetheart,” John said, pulling Alex closer. He hugged him close, his face buried in Alex’s hair. Someday, he promised himself, someday he would bring Alex to a dance.
John straightened his tie. It was black. He fiddled with the fake pearls on his stupid mask, black as well. He plucked the flower from his lapel, turning it over in his hands. Now that was yellow. He paced in circles, sat on the floor, tied and retied his shoes. He checked his watch. Ten to seven, the car would be coming round any time now.
John didn't know why they needed to bother renting the limo, but his father had insisted and Martha had been just as keen on the idea.
“A real limo?” she’d squealed, “that would be marvelous. And we could take everyone, all my friends you know? Oh, they’d just adore you.”
Sue and Hannah and Ashley had been thrilled, though their respective men had been more excited about the make and model of the specific car than the luxury of the ride itself. John heard the honk of a horn outside and stepped into the hall, rushing downstairs.
“Bye Dad!,” he called, before pushing the door open, practically springing onto the lawn. He couldn’t wait to get this night over with.
The drive to the dance hall the school had rented out was pleasant enough, though that was mostly because John didn’t have to talk to Martha. The girls made small talk on one side of seats, and the guys sat awkwardly on the other. Ray wasn’t there, John figured that he and Sue must not be over whatever scuffle they’d gotten into.
The car was nice. Two couches decorated with throw pillows lined the sides, each long enough for six, maybe seven people. Martha should have had some more friends.
They reached the hall in what was either seconds or decades, John couldn’t decide, and piled out noisily, everyone finding their person. Martha walked up to John, slipping her arm into his.
“Shall we?” she asked.
“We shall,” he answered.
They both donned their masks and headed into the building.
The music was bad, John had decided, and there were too many people. All cramped into the stuffy building, it was enough to make a sane man want to scream.
He wandered to the refreshments table, pouring himself a glass of punch. He had lost Martha some time ago, to the whirlpool of the dancefloor crowd. He had danced with her, three or four times, he couldn't remember and didn’t particularly care.
He carried his beverage to one of the unoccupied benches along the side of the giant room. He sipped slowly, taking in the scene around him. Boys talked as girls hung off their arms, couples swayed slowly to the live music, a few even kissed. The masks all around just added a layer of confusion, what with the low lighting you couldn't make out just who a person was.
What John wouldn't give to be here with Alex. He would dance all night. The people and the noise, they wouldn’t bother him. Because he would be there.
John felt the overwhelming urge to bolt rise up in him, the need to feel the cool air on his face, to run and run until his dress shoes had holes in the soles and he couldn't take another step. Until he was standing in front of the scraggly lawn with the broken-down car that housed the person he loved most in the world.
But he couldn't. Because there, not ten feet away, was the girl in the yellow dress with the yellow mask and the yellow hair, and she was headed straight for him. Martha held out her hand, an invitation that he couldn’t refuse for all the wrong reasons.
So he put down the drink and replaced it with her hand, and braced himself as they walked onto the floor.
“It’s getting late you know,” John said as they swayed back and forth, back and forth to one of the slow songs.
Martha just hummed at him.
“Almost eleven.”
She flashed a tiny smile, no teeth.
“I do have to get home. You know. For the kids.”
She clicked her tongue twice. It was almost motherly, the unspoken scolding.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” John asked.
She just shook her head, slow and steady.
“Fine.” John took a deep breath, planted his feet. “Good night,” he whispered. Now was as good a time as any, he supposed. It would have to happen eventually, and here in the dark, he could imagine his face instead of hers.
He closed his lips tight, pressing a quick peck to her cheek. But instead of blushing, pulling away, rambling on about how perfect this first kiss was, what a good time and a great life they'd have, Martha grabbed his chin- rather roughly- yanking it down to meet her mouth.
John expected the cold shocks, the ones he had become so used to, the freezing pain shooting through his body. But there was… nothing. He just felt the warm touch of her mouth and the sharp metal of her-
Hold on. Martha didn’t have braces. There was a small gap between her front teeth, yes, but none of these gargantuan metal contraptions. The only person John knew who had braces was…
He pulled back sharply, pushing Sue away from him. In her matching yellow dress and mask, in the dim light, she looked practically identical to Martha. She was a bit taller, and her hair was lighter, but-
Oh god. Oh no. John ran a hand through his hair, messing it, shaking his head. He stepped back, once, twice. All he could see was Sue’s, not Martha’s big grinning smile, the metal daggers sparkling in the dim light. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sue drawled, drawing closer to him. She placed a hand on his arm. “And what with Ray gone,” she paused, giving him a conspiratorial wink.
“No,” John looked around frantically, searching for Martha, “no, no that’s really not something I’m interested in,” he broke away from her grip, spinning until-
He locked eyes with her then, the real her, not some faker. She was clutching both arms around her chest, and he could just make out her trembling. She looked like some kind of scared animal, caught in the headlights of some flashy braces. He couldn't help it, he felt bad for her. What if she had been Alex- or if he had been Martha and Alex was him. It wasn’t a train of thought he wanted to go down.
John rushed over to Martha, distantly aware of the footsteps following behind him. He turned around, glaring at Sue, stopping her dead in her tracks. Some kind of friend.
“Hey, Martha,” he slung an arm around her shoulder, gently steering her towards the exit. She went willingly, small sniffles emerging from her bowed head.
He imagined Pasty instead of Martha. In a few short years, if she wasn’t careful, this could be her. It would be easier if she was just Pasty.
“Hey now, don’t cry,” John said. He led her to one of the outside benches, setting her down. He kneeled in front of her, removing her mask, brushing the drops of water off of her cheeks gently. “It wasn’t what it looked like, really it wasn’t.” He took off his own mask, setting it on the cool pavement.
“It’s ok,” Martha sniffled, “It’s ok if you like her. If you want her instead of me.”
“Oh, no Martha,” John took her chin in his palm, lifting it so he could meet her gaze. “Really, it’s not like that. We were dancing- I thought she was you.”
Martha flushed. “You were going to kiss me?” she asked. Jesus, was that all the girl could think about?
“I- um… yes.” It was easier than trying to explain what had really happened.
“Oh,” Martha looked down again. “Well then I don’t suppose you’d like to try again. With the right girl, you know.”
“I…” John tried to grasp for an excuse, but anything even remotely plausible eluded him. “It wouldn’t hurt I suppose.” He sounded wary and he knew it. He hoped Martha wouldn’t notice it, or that she’d chalk it up to nerves.
But she just raised her head, blinking slowly. John leaned in, repeating his actions of just moments ago, this time a bit to the right of the cheek. He kissed her mouth, a quick press of lips, a quicker retraction.
“Oh,” Martha sighed, sounding just a bit disappointed. If John hadn’t hated it so much himself he might have been offended.
John stood fiddling with his own mask. “You should really go home,” he tried, but Martha only laughed.
“No,” she insisted, “this is my day. Our day, not Sue’s . I want to stay. Will you join me for another dance?” Martha extended a delicate hand. It was all John could do not to physically push it away.
“In a bit, maybe,” he said. “I just need a moment to catch my breath. Take a smoke.”
Martha nodded at him, standing, grabbing her mask and putting it back on. “I’ll see you inside then.”
“See you.”
John meandered in the general direction of the car, the limo, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, a lighter from the one in his coat. He flicked it once, twice, finally getting the end lit on the third try. Jesus, his hands were shaking.
He breathed, staring into the night, for a few minutes. It was nice, away from the hubbub behind him, alone in the quiet. John took one last puff of his cigarette, dropping it to the ground and stamping the flame out. He was turning around, finally ready to head back inside, when he heard the shuffling.
“John,” a rough voice whispered from behind a car, “John that you?”
“Alex?” John called, standing on his tiptoes to try to see where the voice was coming from.
“Oh thank god,” Alex limped out from behind the car to his right, “it is you.”
“Alex?” John jogged over, “Baby, are you ok?”
“Yeah,” Alex huffed out, “fine.”
“No no,” John kneeled down, “you’re limping sweetie, what happened?”
“Just tripped,” Alex grimaced, “It was a long dark walk.”
John stood, grabbing Alex’s hands, pulling him to lean on the limo. “You walked?” he asked, “from your house?” Alex nodded. “Fucking- that 3 miles away.”
“Four and a half actually.”
“Tell me what’s wrong.” Alex looked away, but John placed a hand on his cheek, drawing his attention back to him. “Please.”
Alex let out a sigh. “It’s just… my dad had some friends over, and you know how they can get. It’s easier to be away.”
“Oh darling,” John ran a hand through his hair, “oh I’m sorry. But why’d you come here?” he asked.
“Where else am I gonna go?” Alex countered.
“A boring school dance with stupid masks?”
“I heard it has a stupid boy too.”
“Really, who?” John joked, smiling as Alex shook his head.
Alex leaned back, gazing up at the stars. “I mean, if I’m honest, there are places I’d rather be.” He shot John a look.
“You’re not the only one,” John mumbled. He looked around, the beginnings of a plan forming in his mind. “Follow my lead,” he told Alex, “look scared.”
Alex opened his mouth in a pantomimed scream.
“That’ll do,” John smiled. “Now come on!” He made his way around to the front of the car, stopping at the driver's side window. He took a deep breath, channeling his inner Audry Hepburn. He knocked on the glass, the man inside startling to attention. John cranked his hand in midair, motioning for the chauffeur to roll down the window.
He did, and John exploded in a burst of noise. “Sir, Sir!” he exclaimed, “We found a girl out there! In the woods, she’s badly injured! Looks like the work of some wild animal, maybe a bear!”
“What?” the driver asked, confused. “What, where is she?”
“Over that way,” John pointed in a vague leftish direction, where the parking lot met a grove of trees, “my friend and I, we’re too weak,” Alex nodded insistently from behind him, “we were wondering if you would mind-”
The driver slammed his door open, barely missing the two boys, and spirited off towards the edge of the woods. John covered his laugh, holding the door open.
“Monsieur,” he gestured to Alex, “your ride awaits.”
“Oh you didn’t,” Alex chuckled as he slid into the car, over the center console and into the passenger's seat.
“Indeed I did!” John replied cheerfully. He hopped in, slamming the door behind him. He turned the keys from where they rested in the lock, the engine revving. He shifted the car into first, pulling out of the lot. Alex cranked down his window craning his head out. John could hear the distant calls of the driver, but they were already too far away.
John slowed as the phone booth appeared from around the bend. He pulled the car to a stop along the roadside. This was as far as it would take them. He turned to Alex.
They both exploded in a burst of laughter. The high of the idiotic plan, of the hilarious escape, it swept them up off the ground, to a land where nothing could hurt them.
Alex doubled over, trying to catch his breath, which only made him laugh harder. John shook his head, wiping away the tears that had sprung up in his eyes.
Then, the strings holding him up above the world broke, sending him plummeting back to earth, streaking into reality. What comes up must come down. The events of the evening crashed down over him, bringing with them tides of emotion. He had kissed not one but two girls. One was an accident, one was pity. He didn’t know which was worse. His tears of joy turned into tears of- well, tears of not joy.
Alex’s laughter cut off, and he reached across to John.
“Hey, hey sweetie,” John was faintly aware of how much Alex sounded like him, when he had been calming Martha just earlier tonight. “Don’t cry,” Alex took John’s head in his hands, pulling it to his shoulder, stroking his hair. He shushed him, like he might a small child. “Shhh, just tell me what’s wrong.”
John did. He gathered himself, and he told Alex everything. He talked as they exited the car, as they walked the short hike down to the creek shore. It felt good, for someone else to know. For someone who wouldn’t judge him, no matter what mistakes he made, to know.
When they reached the base of the small hill they had descended, they stopped.
“Oh,” John said. It was all he could bring to his head. The grass, the tall protective stalks that had once ruled the field were all gone. The farmer must have come, some time yesterday or today, and taken them all away.
He knew it was coming, but now… it felt like too much. He could feel the tears rising up in him again, but he pushed them away, shoved them down into a deep dark hole. He had cried enough. And really, it was only a little change. Something like this, it wasn’t supposed to upset him. Not even a little bit.
“It’s ok,” Alex grabbed John’s hand, pulling him to the center of the considerably more open space. “Now we can really see the stars.” John couldn’t say it, he knew that if he talked now the tears would only come rushing back, but he thanked Alex inside his head. For being strong, for showing him the good.
Alex lay down, resting his hands on his chest. John shucked off his jacket, it was warm anyway, and it would be better not to get it dirty, joining Alex on the ground. The small blades of freshly cut grass poked at his back, but the scent of clean new air, that wonderful Sunday morning smell, still lingered, making up for all the pokes.
They stared up at the start, breathing in and out as one. John reached for Alex’s hand.
“I wonder if it can ever be us,” he whispered, the air passing around the lump of feelings in his throat, escaping through the tiny cracks. “Dancing together, in a public place. Holding hands.” He squeezed Alex’s, a quick pulse. “Kissing, even.”
Alex turned, and John could feel his eyes on him as he gazed up at the sky. “Maybe, baby,” Alex whispered in return. He pressed a quick kiss to John’s cheek. There it was, the kind fire, racing through him, reanimating his limbs, bringing him up from the dead. John turned on his side as well, locking eyes with Alex.
“If the stars align.”