See Dot Smile

Tom

Tom fell for Marcus our sophomore year. There was a school talent show and Marcus bravely and uncharacteristically stood up in front of the entire school and read a poem that he wrote. It was about a wolf pup who grew up wanting to howl at the sun instead of the moon. But his family wouldn't let him follow his heart. So, the wolf ran away to the desert, where the sun shone for hours on end, and he howled at it until his voice was gone. And then he cried himself to sleep and never woke up again.

Half of the audience was in tears by the end, but no one was crying harder than Tom. Because he may have been the one person in the room who knew what the poem meant.

He waited in the lobby until Marcus came out of the auditorium. He walked right up and thanked him for his poem and asked if he could have a copy of it. Marcus handed Tom the handwritten one he'd read on stage. Then Tom asked if he could meet Marcus for coffee sometime. Marcus told him he was only allowed to go out if it was in a group.

The next day Marcus sat with us at lunch in the cafeteria.

And the Department of Gay Love Security was founded.

* * * * *

"Hey, Tommy," I say, joining him on the blanket. I experience a brief wiggle in my gut over what festive activities may have taken place on the blanket before I arrived. But it's a happy wiggle, so I don't let it slow me down.

"Hey, Dot."

"Marcus asked me to talk to you."

"Yeah?" he says, bitterly. "What's talking going to do for me?"

"Nothing," I say. "But I'm here anyway."

He closes his eyes. "I hate this," he says.

"What do you hate?"

"Hiding. Feeling like a criminal for loving somebody. We shouldn't have to do this. We don't have to do it. This isn't the 1950s. We can be gay and be seen. Why doesn't he understand that?"

"He's just afraid," I say.

"Of what?" he asks, turning to face me. "Of me?"

"No," I say. "Of ... everyone else maybe."

"But I can protect him," he says, getting more frustrated. "I would die before I let anything happen to him, or let anyone hurt him. How can he not know that?!"

I don't know what to say.

"I'm sorry."

Tom sighs. "I don't know how much longer I can do this," he says.

My heart aches. I want to tell Tom it won't always be like this, but I don't know that. Marcus is such a mystery to everyone but Tom. If he doesn't know when Marcus will be ready to come out, then no one does.

Except for Marcus.

"Did you have fun tonight at least?" I ask, trying to sneak a little lightness into the conversation. I already know the answer.

"Yes. I did." He turns away blushing.

"What?" I ask.

"He talks," he says, smiling. "Constantly."

"Who? Marcus?"

He nods.

Apart from the one poetry reading sophomore year, I've never heard Marcus say more than three words at a time, so this intrigues me to no end.

"Do you mean ... when you're fooling around?"

"Mm hm."

"What does he talk about?"

"I don't even know." He laughs. "Most of the time I tune him out because, you know ... I'm busy."

I giggle. "I'll bet."

He covers his face with his hands and takes a deep breath into them. I move closer and rest my head on his shoulder.

"I love him," he says, his voice wavering. "And he loves me, I know it. But he wants to keep that a secret, and that ... hurts me." I grab his hand to steady him. He squeezes my fingers. "I just want him to be proud of me," he says. "To be proud of us."

"He is proud of you, Tom. He's just--"

"A pain in the ass?"

"I was going to say challenging. But yeah."

"Challenging." He chuckles. "What's challenging is trying to get through a whole school day without touching him. Do you know how painful it is to be inches from someone you want to screw senseless, and not be able to put your hands on them?"

I think I have an idea what that's like.

"At least you can look forward to more opportunities like this," I say proudly. "The DGLS really pulled together for you guys tonight. We look forward to planning and executing our next stealth mission."

"The DG what?"

"The DGLS. The Department of Gay Love Security."

"Oh my God." He laughs. "Did you guys make that up?"

"Actually, Bud came up with it all by himself."

"Bud? What the hell was he doing here?"

"Supporting the cause," I say. "And standing in for Ali's boobs because Joshua and I weren't covering enough space to block interlopers."

"Yeah, you guys are seriously tiny," he says. "I used to think you would make a cute couple because you were like a match set. Like salt and pepper shakers." He grins at me and must see something in my face because then he says, "What gives?"

"Huh?"

"You and Josh. Why hasn't that happened yet?"

I don't have an answer, but again, my face is talking for me.

"Runway's clear, Dot. Now that Ali's boobs are off the tarmac."

I snort laugh. "What's with the airport terminology?"

"I don't know." He smiles. "Marcus must have been talking about airplanes and it sort of seeped in there. But seriously," he says. "I think you guys would be good together. And I should probably tell you..." he leans closer to me and whispers, "you're not as good at hiding the fact that you're hot for each other as you think you are."

I widen my eyes at him, and he kisses me on the cheek.

"Is he still here?" he asks, reading my mind ... AGAIN.

"Yes," I say coyly. "He's waiting for me to finish talking to you. Then we're going home."

Tom bounces his eyebrows. "Sure, you don't want to invite him back here for a roll in the hay first. Spot's open if you want it."

"Cut it out," I say. "You're going to get me in trouble."

"If Josh has been waiting for you all this time," he says. "I think you're already in it."

* * * * *