Love Is Proud

Hat Trick Overtime: Be True, Be Proud, Be Strong by Jeff Adams-2

“Bryan!” TJ bolted into his boyfriend’s arms and they shared a quick kiss. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” he looked back to his parents as he spoke. “We had a long talk.”

“He convinced us his place—our place,” his mom said while taking his dad’s hand, “was here.”

“We should get rolling,” I said. “We don’t want to miss out. Let me get the keys to the van. I’ll leave it to the group to decide who’s riding where. The van can take up to ten.”

The group was buoyant again and everyone started chattering, trying to figure out ride arrangements.

I couldn’t help but smile as I went down the hall to get the keys from the office.

“Hey, Simon.” It was Mr. Polan joining me. “Mind if we talk?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

I unlocked the door and let us in. He let the door close behind him.

“You’re doing a great job making sure the team is okay. And, well, it may not be my place, but I wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, too. I imagine this can’t be easy for you either.”

I grabbed the keys from their cubby and signed my name in the notepad that was there. Mr. Polan and I looked at each other for a moment.

“I appreciate that,” I said, running my hand through my hair. “I’m hangin’ in.” I sighed and Mr. Polan raised an eyebrow in silent question. “Truth is, I wish Alex were here. I called him when I heard the news. I knew he was safe, but I needed to hear his voice.”

“I know the feeling. Sometimes you need to hear from that one person.”

“Yeah.” I said as we headed out, but I stopped before we got into the hall. “Thanks.”

“Anytime. You and Alex do great work with these kids, so the least I can do is support you if I can.”

I smiled as we got back to the room. “Let’s get these guys to Detroit.”

* * * *

During the forty-five minute drive, the mood in the van bounced all over the place from festive to sad. To their credit, the guys were trying to stay off their phones and hang out with each other. This was something Scottie had gotten them into during the season—when the team was together, they were together and not on their phones. Exceptions were made to get more news on Orlando.

The shooting was being called the largest mass shooting in US history with forty-nine dead and fifty-three injured. And Pulse wasn’t a fluke target, apparently the shooter was homophobic, although some claimed Islamic terrorism, too. It was difficult to sort out what was accurate, and what wasn’t.

“How does anyone decide to shoot into a crowd?”

“What if it happens at the parade?”

“How do you even stop something like that?”

I was proud of the guys for the discussion they had. It was mature and thoughtful with a tinge of naiveté for how slow society actually evolved.

“Maybe this will be the wake-up call,” Scottie said, “to finally control guns and push the fact we’re not second class.”

“How can we let them know we care?” Fred asked. “That seems like the most important thing right now.”

“They?” I asked.

“Everyone who got hurt. The families and friends. They should know we care. I mean we’re just a gay hockey team in Ann Arbor, but they should know.”

“I’ll make some calls tomorrow,” I said. “I know there’s a community center like ours there. I bet they can tell us the best thing to do.”

“Cool,” Fred said. “You guys will help figure out what to do, right?”

“Absolutely,” Scottie said, speaking for everyone.

The closer we got to the event, the more people we saw covered in rainbows and festive clothes, often holding hands, as they walked toward viewing areas. When I saw Alex leaning against his car in the parking lot he’d picked for us, it took great restraint not to ditch the van, run up to him and throw myself into his arms.

“I’m glad you finally got here,” he said as the team piled out of the van and the other cars parked next to us. “I was having to shoo more and more people away from these spots.”

The team crowded around him saying hello and offering fist bumps while the parents called out greetings from outside the fray. Most of the team hadn’t seen Alex in a while, since it was the off season.

Once the team peeled away, I took in Alex, smiling the smile he reserved for me. He looked great in his Rainbow High T-shirt and cargo shorts, quite similar to my outfit. I finally got the hug I’d needed for hours, just when I couldn’t wait for it any longer. This was home. He was home.

“I needed this,” I said quietly, our cheeks pressed together.

“Me, too.”

“Come on guys,” Scottie yelled out. “It’s starting in a few minutes.”

I didn’t break the hug. I couldn’t yet. Shivers ran through me as the emotions of the morning flooded my brain.

“Let’s give them a minute,” Mr. Polan said. “They’ll catch up.”

“But…”

I couldn’t see what happened, but I guessed Mr. Polan had control of the situation.

“I can’t believe the TV,” Alex continued. “It’s…” He sighed. “I don’t even have the words.”

“I suspect it’s only going to be more difficult in the coming days, too. What do I tell these guys? The young people I work with?” I moved so I could look Alex in the eyes. “Is it bad I’m glad you’re working from home next week so I’m always coming home to you?”

“Not at all.” He kissed my nose. “Shall we, before we lose them altogether?”

Of course we couldn’t do that, because we all had each other’s phone numbers, but I knew what he meant. As we walked, I let him know what he’d missed with the team earlier.

Alex and I held hands, a couple steps behind the group. Scottie seemed to be scouting for a good place to hang out and watch the parade. The snippets of conversations I heard from the crowd along the curb mostly centered on Orlando.

“Hey, guys, hold up,” Fred stopped at a bench in front of a storefront, where a young man, possibly African-American, was hunched over and clutching a small rainbow flag in his hand. He was huge, linebacker-sized, and yet Fred sat down next to him as if they were friends. Alex and I stepped close and the team gathered around as well.

“What’s wrong, man?” Fred asked.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” the young man said. “I’d looked forward to this for weeks. But…” He looked up, found us gathered around and then shoved himself further back on the bench. He looked like a caged animal. “Who are you?”

“We play hockey together in Ann Arbor,” Scottie said.

“You were upset, so I stopped,” Fred continued. “Are you okay?”

He wiped at his eyes with large hands and his fear turned to confusion. Tears continued to fall as he regarded us. “As I was leaving, I overheard my dad say that the…the…I won’t use the word he did.” His eyes shifted around, looking at each of us, before landing on Fred. “He said they got what they deserved. What’s he gonna think when I tell him that I’m one of them?”

He covered his face with his hands and Fred squeezed the young man’s shoulder.

“I just wanted to come here and be with people who wouldn’t care that I’m gay. But I just keep hearing him, sounding happy that people were dead.” He slammed his hand down on the bench arm, which caused a couple people to flinch, but not Fred.

“Are you here with anyone?” TJ, who also hadn’t flinched, asked.

“Nah. Can’t tell no one. My dad, my friends. I think the whole school’d freak out. No gay kids there, except me.”

“Why don’t you hang with us? I’m Fred, by the way.”

“Why would you want me?”

“Yeah, join us.” Scottie ignored the question and let his enthusiasm fly. “It’s gonna be great.”

“I don’t wanna drag you guys down.”

“How about we drag you up?” TJ said, taking the big guy’s hand to get him off the bench.

He managed a small laugh as the much smaller TJ tried to pull him up.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell us who you are,” Fred said standing up and pulling along with TJ.

“Jamal.”

As he stood, he towered over all of us, he had to have been at least six-five since Alex and I were both over six. It was like we’d been joined by the guy from The Blind Side. The team introduced themselves along with the adults.

“Nice to meet you,” TJ said. “You’re part of our tribe now. So you’re not alone any more.”

TJ’s repeating the word “tribe” that he’d used earlier resonated. Just a few months ago, TJ would barely talk to me. Now he had a boyfriend and was reaching out to others. Fred was scared earlier and he was doing the same. These young people were incredible.

“Now come on,” Scottie said.

“Yeah,” Fred added. “I see a place to get some flags and stuff.”

The team dashed ahead to a street vendor, along with their new friend.

“Dad,” Scottie called out, his voice cutting through the din around us. “Would you wear this?” He held up a rainbow top hat.

“Sure,” Mr. Polan said without hesitation. “As long as you’re wearing something just as colorful.”

“Like this?” Scottie held up an oversized top hat that reminded me of the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland.

“Why can’t I have one like that?” his dad asked, sounding hurt, which was clearly fake.

“Fine. Twinsies then.”

Music started thumping from behind, signaling the parade’s approach. In short order we all had some kind of hat, including Jamal, and Scottie was corralling us to get near the street.

“You guys really shouldn’t have,” Jamal said as he donned the hat Scottie put in his hand. “I can’t take this home.”

“Then we’ll keep it for you,” Scottie said.

“Yeah, man,” TJ said. “We got you covered.”

I hadn’t let go of Alex’s hand for more than a couple minutes and I gave it a squeeze now. Our group must look impressive—all different kinds of hats, Jamal towering over us, teenagers, parents, and us as the recent college grads. We were all dancing to whatever music played as the parade passed.

Our group was one tribe of many that joined together to form one super-sized tribe on a difficult day—a day when we had to be strong for each other while showing the world, and especially the haters, that we were united in the face of despair.

* * * *

When I got home after dropping off the team and the van at the community center, the smell of pancakes and bacon hit me the second I opened the door. Absolutely one of the best smells ever. Alex was in the kitchen, still in his T-shirt and shorts, standing at the stove. I came up behind and briefly hugged him.

“Hi,” I said, grabbing the tongs so I could flip the bacon while he managed the pancakes.

“Hey,” he looked at me and smiled. His gray eyes were tired and maybe a little sad, too. “It was sort of a good day, right?”

“I think so, yeah. I think it was good for the team. For some of them it was the first time they’d seen so many like them in one place—l***q and allies. They also helped Jamal a lot, I think, which is also good for them.”

“That was so awesome. I don’t think I would’ve done that at their age.”

“I wonder if I would’ve stopped,” I said, voicing for the first time what I’d been thinking for hours. “I help people all the time, but I don’t know if I would’ve approached a stranger on the street.”

“I think you would’ve. You’re that kind of person.”

“I hope so. I was skittish watching Fred doing it.”

Alex flipped the first batch of pancakes onto a plate that was standing by on the counter. He then poured the next round of thick batter into the cast iron skillet.

“I’m glad he did though,” I continued. “Jamal needed someone today and now he’s got the team. I think he got everyone’s email address. I gave him the number of a colleague who can get him connected with other teens so he’ll have support there, too.”

I scooted closer to Alex so we touched as much as we could at the stove. Without comment he wrapped his free arm around my waist. As always, he knew exactly what I needed. He’d given it to me all day. We were safe. As safe as anyone could be, anyway, but that didn’t stop me needing to be close to him.

“Fred asked a question on the way home that I couldn’t figure out how to answer,” I said. “He wanted to know if we’d ever be truly safe. All I could tell him was that we had to work toward that. All of us, and with as many allies as we could find.”

“Sounds like a good answer to me,” he said as I took the bacon out of the skillet to drain. “I know you see so much more than I do. Is it wrong that I usually feel safe? Is it complacency? Am I just not in the right place to feel otherwise? I don’t know what to think.”

“I’m going to try to get a couple of people to come in and talk to the youth groups about that. There’s already so much going against young people that can make them feel vulnerable, between bullies at home or school and the crap they hear from some so-called political and religious leaders. I’m so proud of how the team did today, finding strength together. I want to augment that by calling in some people who went through Stonewall and the horror of the 80s to see if they can offer advice on the importance of staying strong but being safe, too.”

He leaned over and kissed the side of my face just before serving up the last of the pancakes. We moved like a well-oiled machine and got our food together, along with drinks, and went out to the balcony.

This had become our favorite place to eat. We had a small table and a couple of cloth chairs. It was just right for the two of us—there would be no dinner party out here. The balcony overlooked a tree-lined street that was fairly quiet. It was relaxing after whatever kind of day we’d had and today we needed it more than usual. It was a nice evening, with a cool breeze bringing the smell of the food right to my nose.

“I’m sure I can get through anything with you and our friends around. And yet…”

Uncharacteristically, he stopped. He didn’t usually need a pause to consider his words.

“After you called this morning, I drifted back to sleep after I watched some news. I had a dream of us in a club—you, me, Leo, Matty, our friends and…”

“Don’t.” I knew where he was going and I didn’t want to hear the rest. “I had that flash through my mind, too. That’s not going to happen. Or even if it is, we can’t live like it might.”

He smiled at me with a mouthful of pancake, and that made me laugh.

“What was it I’d heard you’d said to the team this morning? Be true, be proud, be strong. I guess that’s what we have to do.”

I nodded. “Yes we do.”

I leaned over and kissed him. We both tasted of syrup and that only made us kiss deeper. My heart fluttered just like it always does when we kiss. It’s the best feeling and no act of hate could ever make me want to give that up.

* * * *

ABOUT JEFF ADAMS

Jeff lives in rural Northern California with his husband of twenty years, Will. He’s the author of the young adult/new adult Hat Trick series, as well as other short stories and novellas. He also co-hosts the weekly show Jeff & Will’s Big Gay Fiction Podcast. For more information, visit JeffAdamsWrites.com.

This story takes place between the last chapter and epilogue of Hat Trick 3: Penalty Shot.