“I think,” he began,slowly treading the waters. Steady,Caleb told his heart. Courage. He decided to take theplunge. “I think I’m gay.
Caleb held his breath.Amazingly enough, the apocalypse that he was expecting didn’thappen. Franco kept looking at him as if he hadn’t said anythingthat shook the very foundations of the Earth—heck, the entireuniverse.
“I see. Do you findyourself attracted to girls?”
Slowly, Caleb shook hishead. “I like them as friends, but . . .” he trailed off, shakinghis head.
“Do you imagine yourselfkissing a girl?”
He shook his head—morevehemently this time.
“Do you find yourselfattracted to guys? Do you imagine yourself kissingguys?”
Involuntarily, Caleb’s gazeflickered to Franco’s lips. He shut his eyes, swallowing hisembarrassment. He nodded.
“Are you sure? Have youthought this through?” Franco took a long sip of his frappe. “Maybeit’s just a phase?”
Caleb felt a sharp spasm ofannoyance in his chest. Didn’t Franco know that he’d already turnedthis question over and over in his mind—for years? To think he’dspent hours agonizing over this moment of confession. Franco’sreaction made him want to kick someone—specifically the guy infront of him.
“I know I’m gay, Franco,” Caleb hissed.He pushed himself up from his seat.
Franco reached across thetable and grabbed his arm. His face was split into a hugegrin.
“That’s awesome,Caleb.”
* * *
Where was this musiccoming from? This joyful, spontaneous music pouring from fingertipsCaleb barely recognized as his own? WhenCaleb had played Mozart’s Twelve Variations for Sir Carreon thefirst time, his teacher had complained about his lack ofexpression. But how different it was now.
At this late hour, Calebshould’ve been feeling sleepy, but the images kept flooding hismind in full color and high definition. Caleb finally understoodhow Mozart’s composition told a story, not of the composer’s oranyone else’s, but Caleb’s own—of how his crazy afternoon hadunfolded with Franco.
Mozart’s first variationbegan tentatively, reminding him of how a child would shyly singTwinkle, Twinkle, Little Star in front of class. It was exactly howCaleb had felt when, after coffee, Franco had driven them to thepark, which he hadn’t visited since he was a kid.
“Trust me.” Franco hadgiven Caleb his best mischievous smile, dark eyes dancing. “This isgoing to be fun.”
Caleb moved on to thesucceeding variations, fingers flying off the keys to keep up withthe tempo. The running sixteenth notes told the story of how Calebthreaded through the crowd of the mini amusement park. This waswhere he was engulfed by shrieks and laughter from rides that spunand swung.
Then came the tripletnotes that were played fast, like eating ice cream before itmelted. It reminded Caleb of the messy triple-scoops of avocado,cheese, and chocolate Franco had bought for them from themamang sorbetero.
On the fourth variation,the tempo slowed down, allowing the notes to breathe. It was Calebtelling Franco, “Thank you for doing this.” It was Franco grinningat him, the corner of his mouth dabbed with green ice cream as hesaid, “Coming out is a beautiful, happy thing. It deserves acelebration.”
Then the fast notes are atit again, sprinting over the scales in offbeat patterns. It wasCaleb on the zipline, clutching the rope with a death grip. For asecond, he had dared look down. He felt like he was plunging intohis death, so shut his eyes and yelled his lungs out. When it wasover, he wobbled into the safety of solid ground, pale but laughingand returning Franco’s high five.
Then it was Franco’s turnto the ride the zipline, and Caleb had to catch his breath becauseit was like watching poetry. Even with the helmet and the safetyharness on, Franco didn’t look like he was fastened to anything. Itlooked like he was flying. Caleb watched him stretch out his armsand close his eyes against the rush of wind. Watched that hint of asmile playing on his lips as if this moment were all that matteredin his life. That is how I want tolive, Caleb thought.
Then they rented bikes andpedaled them around the park. The biking crowd was thick, causingwheels to collide, pedals to tangle. A jumble of apologies piercedthe air. When Franco and Caleb had enough of the excitement, theyrode their bikes to a quieter spot, among the benches thatsurrounded the park’s monument.
It was the ninth variationin stacatto now,the notes played in shortened durations in between breaths ofsilence. Caleb and Franco had sat on the bench, watching the sunfight against sleep. It felt like the perfect moment to reveal asecret. “You’re the first person I’ve come out to,” he toldFranco.
Franco’s lips curled intoa smile. “I’m honored.”
“Lasttime when we talked, did you guess I was . . .?”
“You kept asking all thosequestions, and I thought, yeah, maybe I was right about you.”Franco’s voice turned soft. “How do you feel now?”
Caleb lifted his face tothe sinking sun. He slanted his head and grinned. “Gay.”
They both laughed atthat.
The tempo slowed down onthe tenth variation, the melody rippling like a lullaby. Caleb wason his way home in Franco’s car, watching dusk fall outside thewindow.
When the car stopped infront of his gate, Caleb blurted, “Thank you.” The words seemedinadequate so he added, “For the ride and the ice cream and . . .everything.”
“No problem,” Francosaid.
During dinner, he hadforced himself to eat the ginisangmunggo his mom had slaved over. It tastedlike cardboard in his mouth. He managed to hold a decentconversation with his mom, revealing only half-truths about hisafternoon. I was at the mall, with afriend from school. No, you don’t know him. Yes, I’ll think aboutjoining the choir.
When he had gone up to hisroom, Caleb couldn’t sleep. So he went down and played the piano,not caring what the neighbors thought.
He was into the eleventhvariation when his phone beeped a message from Franco.
Had a great time today.Let’s hang out again sometime this week. G’nite.
Caleb launched intoMozart’s twelfth and final variation. The notes laughed andscampered, almost tripping over each other, the melody keeping upwith the swift beating of his heart. The music sounded like apromise, of happiness waiting around the corner. Caleb smiled whileplaying, snapping his head back with a flourish as the final noteexploded in the air.
Mozart really knew how toend things with a bang.
Chapter 13: RomanticPeriod
