Chapter 18 – Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

I was stunned when I returned to school from Christmas Break to find a folded note from Steve. It read:

Eric,

There's too much done to undo. I'd apologize, but an apology seems so small and useless in light of all that's happened.

Still, I'm sorry I betrayed you. I'm more sorry I didn't warn you. It seems so easy looking back. It seemed so hard then.

I miss you. A lot. I love you. A lot. I should have told you then. I didn't, and that's on me. It's late to say it, but I hope it's not too late.

If you don't have a date for Coronation, I'd like to take you. I want to walk in with you on my arm. I want to dance in your arms. Right there, in front of every one.

If you already have a date, would you save the last dance for me?

Yours (whether you know it or not),

Steve

PS Hang this on the front of your locker if you want.

I sobbed as I read and re-read the note. It was the most amazing thing I had ever read. Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" paled in comparison. So did W.H. Auden's "Stop All The Clocks."

I showed the note to Lori. She was gobsmacked. She cracked, "Things . . . just . . . got . . . interesting" as she read and re-read the note.

I showed the note to my mother and to Michael. My mother's reaction was simple and elegant, like her. "You don't have to give in to him, but you have to forgive him."

"I already have."

"You have to tell him you have. You have to help lift the yolk of guilt from his shoulders."

Michael assured me my mother was right. He also told me that, if I accepted his invite, we should tell no one in advance. "You have to surprise everyone. If you don't, they'll try to stop you. They'll block you if they know, but they won't kick you out."

I tried to write back, but written words failed me. I swiped Mr. Kamler's car and headed to the Lustig house. Mr. Lustig answered the door. Steve wasn't home, but Henry welcomed me in.

"Eric, how is your mother?"

"Mr. Lustig, she's awesome. I know it's hard for you to hear, but she's doing great. Mr. Kamler treats her better than she deserves, and she's mad about him."

Mr. Lustig's eyes were wet. "Don't ever say that about your mother. It's not possible for him or anyone else to treat her better than she deserves. She deserves the best. I'm happy for her, Eric. I really am. No matter what, I love that woman. Deep into my soul. She deserves a life of fireworks and ice cream."

"You were never going to marry her, were you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

"I don't think you would have."

"You're probably right."

I handed Mr. Lustig Steve's letter. He read it, held it to his chest, and sighed heavily. "He's like me," he said. "A romantic. A lover. I chose wrong when I was his age. There's nothing romantic about Ellen. She's useful, not romantic. She gets things done, but she doesn't chase dreams. She doesn't even have them."

I didn't know what to say. I was out of my element. Mr. Lustig seemed to be confronting a sad future, and I was there to hope his son was not doing the same.

"You're like your mother," he continued. "You're a dreamer. And, you have the courage to chase your dreams. When they don't come true, you dream another dream, and then chase it. What I wouldn't give to be your age and chasing a dream."

"It's never too late," I offered, ignorantly.

"Oh, it is. Life passes you by. You think you're getting a second chance. But, then you don't take it, not really. You flirt with it, but you don't take it. Then, it's gone, and you watch someone else take it. And there's nothing you can do about it."

I knew what he was saying. He had postponed my mother. And Mr. Kamler had arrogated that chance to himself. Now, Mr. Kamler was living the life Henry wanted, but didn't take. And, Henry was back living the life that had led him to my mother in the first place.

I didn't want him to fight for my mother. She needed things simple, not complex. They were simple now. They wouldn't be if Henry tried to push back.

"Can I wait in Steve's room?"

"Sure."

I went upstairs. I settled back onto Steve's bed. I smelled him in his pillow. I felt him in his mattress.

I sat on the edge of the bed and fretted. I was on the edge of a love affair. Sally was gone. Steve was available. I had never been in this situation. I had always been a luxury, never an essential.

I collapsed onto my back in anticipation. I dozed off. I awoke to Steve's strong hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, Cupcake," he said.

"Hey, Cookie," I answered.

"I still don't know what a cookie is, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be one."

"Your letter proved you're not one." I then explained to Steve what Evans had explained to me. It was lost on him.

"But, aren't cupcakes like cookies, the same shape and size?"

I distilled it down for him. "Evans' school did not have Cupcakes. That's a gem the good folks of PHS came up with, just for me. It had Cookies, which was for people who danced only the to same tune. The clones who did what everyone else did."

"Speaking of which, will you go to Coronation with me?"

"Of course."

"So, you forgive me?"

"Of course."

Steve's eyes filled with tears. "You are an extraordinary human being, Eric Akers."

"You are, too."

"I'm not."

"You have to be. I love you, and I don't love ordinary people."

"I thought you did. I thought it was your favorite movie. And book."

"You're a dork."

Steve didn't respond. Instead, he pinned me to the bed with a long, tender kiss. In it, he said I'm sorry, I've missed you, I love you, I want you.

It was an endless kiss. Every time I thought it would end, it renewed. Our mouths remained locked together as we stood and stripped. We were mouth to mouth, chest to chest, and crotch to crotch. As we kissed, I took us both in my hand and started to move back and forth. I didn't care about the past, I cared only about the future.

"Don't come," he whispered into my mouth. "I want you to take me."

"We don't have to do that," I assured him.

"I know. But, I want to. Very much."

We fell onto the bed. We continued to kiss, and I continued to work both of us together.

Steve scrambled off the bed, got lube he had hidden somewhere, and coated me and him with it. I was on my back, and he moved over me. He took me in his hand and tried to lower himself onto me. I was on fire. I couldn't believe what was happening. I felt myself slip past his ring and into him. He gasped, stopped, and held perfectly still. He lowered himself very slowly the rest of the way, holding his breath as he did. I was lightheaded by the time I felt him against my pelvis.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm more than okay," he responded.

I was surprised. The instant he tried to rock back and forth, I swelled and filled him.

"Did you come?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I thought so. I want to come, too," he said.

I took him in my hand. I didn't have to do much to release him. He leaned back on one hand, arched his back, and shot into the air. It rained down on my chest and stomach.

He collapsed on his back between my legs. I rose up and followed him down, pinning my mouth to his.

"I love you, Eric," he insisted.

"I love you, too, Steve. A lot."

"I love you more. I win."

"I love you the most."

"You can't. I already won."

"Can we be serious for a second?" I asked.

"Sure," he assured me.

"We don't have to go to the dance together."

"Sure, we do."

"I'll be fine if we don't."

"I won't."

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."

"What did you think about what we just did?"

"It was fine, but I think I like it better the other way. I prefer being the man."

"That's great. I like the other way better, too. I prefer being the woman."

I know now I wasn't "being the woman." But, we were only eighteen, and we didn't know what we didn't know. Man/woman was our only referent.