Chapter 5
MOSES
My hands shook as I adjusted my shirt collar in the bathroom mirror of the Gomillion High School gymnasium.
After leaving Rhett at the falls that morning, I’d spent the day in a haze of conflicting emotions.
Relief at finally unburdening myself of the truth, anxiety about what it might mean for us going forward, and beneath it all, a persistent, low-grade longing that I’d tried and failed to suppress for twenty years.
I’d left that note on his car in a moment of impulsivity, regretting it almost immediately. But it was too late now. The reunion committee had indeed paired us for afternoon’s trivia game. Forced proximity, indeed.
“Get it together, Moses,” I muttered to myself. “It’s just trivia. You’re not eighteen anymore.”
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? At eighteen, everything had seemed both simpler and impossibly complex. Now, at thirty-eight, I understood the nuances better, the real-world consequences, but that didn’t make navigating my feelings for Rhett any easier.
The bathroom door swung open, and speak of the devil, Rhett walked in, looking unfairly good in a midnight blue suit that brought out the color of his eyes. He stopped short when he saw me, a flash of something; surprise, pleasure, uncertainty, crossing his face before he composed himself.
“Moses,” he greeted me, moving to the sink beside mine. “I got your note.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile. “Figured you should know what you’re in for afternoon. The reunion committee has a warped sense of humor.”
Rhett’s lips quirked upward. “Or an excellent matchmaking instinct.”
Heat crept up my neck. “Don’t start.”
“Too late,” he replied, his voice low and serious, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “We started this twenty years ago, Moses. The question is whether we’re finally going to finish it.”
The intensity of his gaze made my heart race. Before I could formulate a response, the bathroom door burst open again, and a group of former football players stumbled in, already well into their pints and singing an off-key rendition of some 80s hair band anthem.
Rhett and I exchanged a look of mutual exasperation before silently agreeing to make our exit.
The gymnasium had been transformed for the afternoon’s theme, with streamers in neon colors, a disco ball casting spinning reflections across the walls, and tables set up around a central stage where Principal Bushman was testing the microphone.
“Looks like they spared no expense on the time machine,” Rhett commented dryly as we surveyed the scene. “I half expect to see Molly Ringwald come through the door.”
I snorted. “More likely to see Coach doing the moonwalk. I heard he’s been practicing for weeks.”
That earned me a genuine laugh, the sound warming something inside me that had been cold for far too long. We stood there, shoulders nearly touching, sharing a moment of easy camaraderie that felt both familiar and new.
“Moses! Rhett!” Vanessa’s voice cut through the growing crowd as she made her way toward us, resplendent in a teal sequined dress that would have been the height of fashion in 1986. “You’re both here! Perfect timing. We’re about to start the trivia rounds.”
She linked her arms through ours, steering us toward a table near the front where several other classmates were already seated. The buzz of conversations surrounded us, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter and the steady thump of 80s classics from the DJ booth.
“The theme for afternoon’s trivia is Gomillion Legends and Lore,” Vanessa explained as we took our seats. “All questions about local history, town monuments, school traditions, you know, the real nostalgic stuff.”
My stomach dropped. Town monuments. Like, say, a certain Paul Bunyan statue that I’d allegedly vandalized? I shot a look at Rhett, who seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his brow furrowed with concern.
“Sounds... fascinating,” I managed, reaching for the glass of punch in front of me and wishing it was something stronger.
“Doesn’t it?” Vanessa agreed with suspicious enthusiasm. “And you two are the perfect team. The golden boy architect and the rebel mixologist, reunited after all these years.”
There was something in her tone, a knowing quality that made me wonder how much she’d pieced together over the years. Vanessa had always been too perceptive for her own good, or for mine, in this case.
Before I could question her further, the principal tapped the microphone, calling for everyone’s attention.
“Welcome, Millipeds, to our 80s Prom Trivia Extravaganza!” he announced to cheers and scattered applause.
“We’ll be testing your knowledge of Gomillion’s rich history and traditions.
Teams have been pre-assigned based on your high school extracurricular activities, a little reunion within the reunion, if you will! ”
I glanced around our table. Besides Rhett and me, there was Vanessa, of course, plus Jeremy Klein from Photography Club, Melissa Knight from Debate Team, and, to my dismay, Tom Jenkins, who had confronted me at the welcome party.
The common thread eluded me until Rhett leaned in, his breath warm against my ear.
“We were all on the Heritage Committee senior year,” he whispered.
“Right,” I nodded, the memory coming back hazily. I’d joined the committee because Rhett was on it, not out of any particular interest in Gomillion’s history. Ironic, considering I’d later become notorious for allegedly disrespecting that very heritage.
“The first round will focus on Gomillion’s famous landmarks,” The principal continued, confirming my worst fears. “Each team has a buzzer. First to buzz in with the correct answer gets the points. Ready? Let’s begin!”
The first few questions were softballs, the year the town was founded, the name of the creek that ran through the center of town and the number of churches on Main Street.
Our team, led primarily by Vanessa’s encyclopedic knowledge of local history, was neck and neck with a team of former student council members.
Then came the question I’d been dreading.
“The Paul Bunyan statue at the town square has been a Gomillion landmark since what year, and who donated it to the town?”
Tom’s hand shot toward our buzzer, but Rhett was faster, slapping it down with perhaps more force than necessary.
“1952,” he answered smoothly. “Donated by the Hayes Lumber Company to commemorate the town’s logging heritage.”
“Correct!” Principal Bushman beamed. “Five points to the Heritage Committee team!”
Tom shot Rhett a dark look but said nothing. I mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to Rhett, who acknowledged it with a slight nod.
As the rounds continued, I found myself relaxing incrementally.
Despite the uncomfortable topic, there was something comforting about sitting beside Rhett, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we leaned in to confer on answers.
His presence was both grounding and electrifying, a contradiction that seemed to define everything about our relationship.
During a break between rounds, while most of our teammates went to refill drinks, Tom leaned across the table toward me, his expression sour.
“Must be nice,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear, “having Callahan defend your honor after all these years. Especially considering what you did.”
I stiffened, but before I could respond, Rhett’s hand landed on my knee under the table, a silent caution, a grounding touch.
“Let it go, Tom,” Rhett said, his voice even but with an unmistakable edge. “It was twenty years ago. Time to move on.”
“Easy for you to say,” Tom retorted. “You weren’t the one who had to explain to tourists why our town mascot had been destroyed.”
“No,” Rhett agreed mildly, “but I was the one who designed the restoration for free when the town couldn’t afford professional architects. So, I’d say we’ve all contributed to Gomillion’s heritage in our own ways.”
This was news to me. I turned to look at Rhett, surprised. “You designed the restoration?”
He shrugged, a hint of color touching his cheeks. “It was a small project, right after I graduated from architecture school. No big deal.”
But it was a big deal. While I’d been hiding in Atlanta, trying to outrun my past, Rhett had been helping to heal the very wound I’d been blamed for inflicting.
“Why?” I asked quietly.
His eyes met mine, soft with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. “Someone had to,” he said simply. “And I knew how much that statue meant to the town. To you, too, despite everything.”
The moment stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. Tom, seemingly uncomfortable with the turn in conversation, mumbled something about getting a drink and left the table.
“I didn’t know,” I said when we were alone. “About you designing the statue.”
“There’s a lot we don’t know about each other’s lives since then,” Rhett replied. “Twenty years is a long time, Moses.”
The weight of those missing years pressed on me suddenly, all the moments we hadn’t shared, the milestones we’d celebrated separately, the paths we’d walked alone when we might have walked them together.
“Too long,” I agreed, the admission surprising even me.
Something shifted in Rhett’s expression, hope kindling behind his eyes. Before he could respond, however, Vanessa returned with Melissa and Jeremy in tow, all three carrying trays of colorful drinks.
“Jell-O shots!” Vanessa announced with gleeful enthusiasm. “A proper 80s afternoon of fun and relaxation requires proper 80s refreshments.”
The moment broken, Rhett and I accepted the offered shots with forced smiles. The rest of the trivia game passed in a blur of increasingly difficult questions, increasingly potent drinks despite the hour, and increasingly charged glances between Rhett and me.