When we arrived in Denver, Mr. Goldberg gave us a great big lip kiss. He is that kind of dad, and Rafe had felt embarrassed for him when he had let go of us. "My sons!" he yelled. I surreptitiously wiped my mouth while Rafe and his dad were hugging, forgetting that Mrs. Goldberg, who hadn't sprinted over to us, was watching. She gave me a warm smile and a squishy hug, complimenting my jacket.
"Thanks for letting me come again." I said, before going back to holding Rafe's hand.
"Are you kidding? We wouldn't have it any other way. You're Rafe's special boy!"
I blushed, and Rafe and I looked at each other.
As we got on the toll road that would take us north and west to Boulder, I stared at the snow-capped mountains and remembered skiing at Thanksgiving. How Rafe and the Goldbergs had gone out of their way to make me feel at home, and how they didn't seem to think it was a big deal to give me experiences I'd never had. Dinners out at fancy restaurants with cloth napkins? Sure, why not? Rafe would whine about all the different ingredients, as he was more meat and potatoes. Meanwhile, I'd be savoring every new thing I could try. Aioli. Truffle foam. Gastrique this and that.
Rafe asked if we could stop at Smashburger for some lunch, but Mr. G looked at his watch and said, "There's no t…", Rafe's mom interrupted.
"We'll get you food at home."
"Oh no," Rafe said. "Please no."
Last month, we'd wanted to get something to eat after we landed and Rafe's parents had said the same thing, throwing us that mountain luau-themed party. The specter of a repeat of that would've made me jump out of the car, but I was excited to meet Claire Olivia once again and maybe even Chloe, Rafe's grandma or some of the PFLAG kids. I felt that it would be nice to have some connections all across the country, I guess.
"You know what? I could use a goddamn party right about now," I said. "Bring it on."
Mrs. Goldberg glanced back from the passenger's seat and said, "Thank you. At least one of you has some gratitude. We did this in half a day, Rafe. Have a little fuckin' grace."
Rafe laughed, not derisively. "Whoa," he said, reacting to the sudden curse word.
"I'm sorry. I just ... We've spent all morning getting anyone and everyone we can over to the house. It's been a lot, Rafe. A lot." Mrs. G said.
And when we went into silence, I was thinking how unlikely my life was now. I was in Boulder, Colorado, thousands of miles away from my home or Natick. With my boyfriend, and best friend, whom I had almost lost only three weeks ago, and whose parents had just thrown a party to honor me and him. I felt like family. His family.
At Rafe's house, I noticed it was just an indoors party, probably because of the snow and the fact that they only could only prepare for it for half a day. Rafe seemed relieved, at least. There was no overriding theme, and if it was, it was very subtle. What there was, however, was a playlist of a mix of Christmas, Hannukah and a few old songs. The first was an Elton John, which followed with a few of Sinatra and Dean Martin's Christmas music, while having Over the Rainbow and a few noticeably unknown songs follow, which I presumed was for Hannukah. This was the 20th after all. But what I didn't get, was the non-festive ones.
When Over the Rainbow was playing, I headed to the drinks table, where Mrs. G was standing.
"What's with the music?" I asked, grabbing some green-looking punch that I later found out was kale-pineapple juice. Ick. Mrs. Goldberg tilted her head like I was an innocent child. "I made this for you, sweetie. It's a musical trip through gay history!"
"Thanks," I said, thinking, Thanks?
"These are songs you should know," she said. "As you come out, you'll find that there's generations upon generations of talented gay men and women who changed the world and paved the way for you" She touched my shoulder. "I am so proud of you, Ben. It's not easy, coming out. Not easy at all."
"Thanks. I know it's not." I said, going back to when I came out to Toby and Albie.
She smiled at me, and after we both looked at each other, she walked off while I stayed on the drinks table to quickly finish the disgusting drink. I felt a bit frustrated at her. I knew she was trying her best to make me feel good about it, but I still continued worrying about my family's reaction.
"Oh, you two are such a sweet couple." An old woman came out of my peripheral vision.
"I guess we are." I said, unsure whether she was talking about me and Rafe or his mother. I turned to look at her, and it was Chloe, Rafe's grandmother. I didn't know if it was Mr. or Mrs. Goldberg's mother, and I was too afraid to ask.
After meeting with her, I went to find Claire Olivia, who was standing with one of Rafe's old friends.
"Hey, Claire!" I shouted to her amongst the music.
"It's Claire Olivia. Hey, Ben." She said, frowning before following with a smile.
"Oh, sorry." I eyed her up a bit, and she was wearing what seemed to be a World War I sailor's hat with vintage cowboy boots, tight jeans, and a solid yellow long-sleeve T-shirt. The hat didn't really fit her appearance, but I'm not the fashion police.
"Oh yeah, this is Carl. Carl, meet Ben, Rafe's boyfriend." Boyfriend. I still can't believe it.
I smiled at the pudgy ginger, who nodded at me.
"You're Rafe's friend?"
"Not really, his mom invited us because we're in PFLAG." Oh, of course.
"Nice to meet you, I guess." I said to him. Talking to the PFLAG kids was a lot more awkward than I thought.
After we talked about Rafe's last days in Rangeview, the man himself approached us.
"Ben, having fun with Claire Olivia, I see?" I nodded. "Yeah, I can totally see why she's into you."
I laughed.
"Shut up, Shay Shay. Ben and I were just talking about you."
"Oh. Well, tonight. The Laughing Goat. Alright?" Rafe asked her. She nodded, and he grappled me to a corner of the living room.
"So, how are you feeling?" he asked me.
"Uhm, alright. I guess."
"No, about this."
"Your parents are fun people. So are your friends. I don't mind." I responded, unsure of what he's meaning.
He let out sigh of relief.
"Listen, I think…" He stuttered, thinking of words to fill the anxiety. I was too tired to listen to anything, including the most annoying Mariah Carey song ever, so I interrupted him in his seventh "I".
"I think I'm just gonna rest a bit." I said. He swallowed some saliva, before going back to his usual happy face.
"Alright. My room. Sweet dreams, Benny." I rolled my eyes, before giving him a wave.
I woke up in time for dinner, and the party had ended, thankfully. I felt sheepish that I'd ducked out, and I hoped the Goldbergs weren't mad at me. I walked downstairs, and the family was sitting around on a cream-colored sectional that was crazy comfortable, as I recalled from Thanksgiving. "You're up!" Rafe said, and his mom and dad turned and looked. They smiled when they saw me.
"Yup. Sorry about wimping out on the party."
His mother waved her hand like it was in the past. "Come sit down."
I sat on the couch next to Rafe, who put his hand on my leg. I put my hand over his, squeezing it in irregular intervals.
We have something for you. A gift," Mrs. Goldberg said, and she handed me a wrapped present that appeared to be a book.
"Thanks," I managed. "Wow." I opened it. It was a survival guide for queer teens. I studied the back, or more like I pretended to study the back. Too much, somehow. Way, way too much. I didn't know why I was feeling like that, and I felt confused. Maybe it's my dad? I thought.
"The coming-out process can be challenging, so we wanted to give you something really good to read that would help," she said, beaming at me.
"Thanks ..."
"Where's my present?" Rafe asked, pretending to be pissed.
"It's only seeable when the dishwasher is empty," his mom said, and Rafe groaned. She turned back to me. "How did it go, when your parents found out you were bi?"
"I…" I struggled with my words, scratching the back of my head. "I don't know, I only wrote them an email, and that's it. I still haven't gotten a reply."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
A huge amount of stress had suddenly piled on me. It dawned to me that I could be in exile from Alton now. I'm now homeless. I thought. I swallowed my saliva, and pretended to not think about it. "It's okay, it's just my dad who's one of those… you know." I said to her.
She nodded. At least she didn't make a big deal of it. I thought, looking to Rafe.
He nodded, too. I guessed that both of them understood how much my father meant to me, and seeing Mr. Goldberg had me wondered what life would be like if he was my dad.
"If you think you can't go home, you can always stay here." Rafe offered. Here, in every holiday and break?
"Thanks, Rafe."
The days went by quickly. On the 24th and 25th, the Goldbergs had brought me and Rafe out to celebrate Christmas for me after we went to the mountains for some skiing, just like the morning after Thanksgiving. The difference was that the place was more crowded than Thanksgiving morning, therefore we were less intimate and cared more about not knocking over someone else.
On the 28th, me, Rafe and Claire Olivia went out to the Pearl Street Mall for some coffee. The day was unusually warm for a winter, and we wore thinner jackets because of it. The weather felt oddly European, I thought, whatever that means.
We walked past the Boulder Daily Camera building, and as we were walking, Rafe decided to do a small jump in excitement.
"Whoa, you're a jumper now?" Claire Olivia said. "That's an odd development."
I chuckled a bit, being the quiet observer as always. They began to talk about whether or not attention from strangers was good, but I was busy focusing on the talent that was on the streets. There was a short man juggling knives, two bald twin sisters who were crooning a folk tune while strumming identical guitars and four guys with dreadlocks smocking up on a bench.
"Whenever the rest of the world won't, I'll be happy to look at you." Rafe said, bumping my arm with his shoulder.
"Oh, yeah, me too." I said, distracted by the knife juggling.
Rafe and Claire Olivia laughed, and we all started skipping down the street. We all saw the nuns on Segways on the same time. Segway nuns, riding on their segways, not giving a fuck.
"Hey! Segway nuns!" Claire Olivia called, and she went running to them. We followed. The nuns were perfectly okay being called Segway nuns, and they smiled when they saw us. I remembered Rafe talking about when we were back in Natick, having plastic screwdrivers. Good times.
"Did you have a nice Christmas?" one of them asked Claire Olivia.
"Hella cool." She said, and they nodded. "Did you do anything fun?"
Rafe laughed.
"We had a delightful time at the soup kitchen." Another nun said. "Have you volunteered there? Would you like to, sometime?"
I imagined them in the soup kitchen, serving the homeless. I giggled at that image. Them? Helping the homeless?
"Is he your boyfriend?" the first nun asked, pointing at Rafe. Three of us cracked up, confusing the poor lady.
"No, this is my gay friend who decided to act straight in a Massachusetts all-boys school this fall, but ended up with him." She replied, pointing at me. "He's dating someone and he's home for Christmas, so, yay!"
"That's nice." The second nun said, smiling. This is Boulder, I thought. Imagining how many chunks of rock we would be thrown at if we told this to the nuns in Alton. I shuddered at the mere thought.
We walked a little further as the sun went down, watching a performance of a band of African drummers. The beat rippled through the crowd, and Claire Olivia began to dance along. Some others joined in, but me and Rafe decided to stand back along with some of the crowd. There were all kinds of people, black, white, brown, homeless, wealthy looking, young, old, stoned, sober. I watched them jump and twist to the thumping beat.
And I quietly stood there, snapping my fingers to the beat, knowing what Rafe was thinking about. He wanted to dance, of course, go crazy! I wanted to say, but we just stood there, enjoying the music and smiling at the dancers. The world needs people who are comfortable with standing still. We keep the earth on its axis when everyone else is bouncing around.
We were dancers and drummers and standers and jugglers, and there was nothing anyone needed to accept or tolerate. We celebrated.