Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Christina
I run my fingers over the slightly raised, gold embossment of my name on the leather.
Four years at Hilltop, and now I’m sitting in the gazebo at the heart of campus, in my cap and gown, holding what was given to me at the graduation ceremony: a monogrammed Bible, signed personally by the Hilltop University president.
My friends are taking selfies and cutting up around me, and I’ll throw them a weak smile or forced laugh at the appropriate times, but they know I’m not really here. I haven’t been here all week. And they are so worried about me, I know they aren’t really here, either.
Missing Danny is a physical, throbbing ache that doesn’t let up no matter how I try to distract myself.
I keep telling myself I might miss him less when we move out of the apartment in two weeks and I won’t have to be in any of the spaces we shared together.
I’m a pathetic liar. Especially since there’s no moving out of my heart or mind or body, all three of which I’ve shared so thoroughly with Danny that I’ll never be able to remember what they were like before.
Even now, all this gazebo is to me is the place where Danny and I started TJL.
I’ve had to sleep in Runzhou’s bed. He holds me and strokes my hair until I fall asleep.
But when I wake in the night, and realize he isn’t Danny, there’s no going back to sleep.
I just lie there and listen to Runzhou’s breathing and hope with my whole heart that Danny is getting more sleep than me.
One of the worst parts of the past week is that I can tell my friends all miss Danny too.
We haven’t been a fivesome for a while; it’s the six of us now.
And I took away our last few weeks together.
No one has used the group chat, and I haven’t had the strength to open it to see if Danny has withdrawn.
Reese did gently ask me if I would be okay with the rest of them still contacting Danny.
I was so fucking relieved. Of course I want them contacting him.
We’re all the best of friends, and I want them checking on him.
I thought I would be likewise relieved to make it to graduation. Hilltop is the last vestige of the life I was living before the rupture. Before finding myself and finding joy. Before my friends. There’s nothing but open skies and endless possibilities ahead.
So why do I feel more limited now than ever?
I may not be a fan of Hilltop, but without it, there’s officially nothing left tying me to this area. And as much as I thought that I didn’t want to be tied to anywhere or anyone, I’m on the brink of ruin to lose my last connection to Danny.
Two days ago, I broke down and opened my Danny Boy folder.
Huge fucking mistake. I wept over footage of him lounging in the Cozy Room he made for me, his long body laid out in my favorite bean bag chair, smiling quietly up at me when he catches me filming.
I zoomed in on the crinkles around his eyes and could practically feel them against my thumb.
I’m doing this for him, I keep saying to myself. I’m doing this for him. I can’t trust myself to know what’s right. I’m unable to give him stability and security. I won’t take him from his home and family and work. He deserves more than what I can offer.
But then I remember the fire that had blown out in his eyes. I remember the way he kissed me in the car, like it was the last good thing that would ever happen to him.
Has he cried as much as I have this week? I’ve never seen him cry. I had never seen him truly angry until he leapt to his feet at my father’s house on my behalf, his intensity turned lethal.
Anger isn’t an emotion I expected to feel this week, but I have.
A lot of it. Some hours I’m so angry about the family I was born into, about the harsh loss I’ve endured, that I want nothing more than to smash every single dish in our cabinets.
Runzhou said he’d get me safety goggles to do so.
I may have to take him up on that offer.
He won’t be able to move much to the tiny apartment he and K have secured in New York City anyway.
“Okay, everyone!” Reese announces. He hands his graduation cap to Ally and flashes her a warm smile. It’s casual, like he’s done it a million times and no doubt has, but it’s also pure affection. Like he can’t even look Ally’s way without appreciating her existence.
My heart would break if it weren’t already broken.
Reese hauls a medium-sized box onto the gazebo bench. “Here are our non-CC-approved Hilltop parting gifts. Much better than the ones handed to us at that ceremony.”
First, he extracts a T-shirt and fluffs it out so we can see that it reads Hilltop University in bold lettering on the front, but with Joke’s on Hilltop in loopy writing on the back. Ally squeals, and he hands one to both her and me. I almost laugh.
“And for K and Runzhou …” Reese extracts a painting from the box and props it on a knee for display.
The painting is the Hilltop logo—a fancy H with a sun coming off one side.
But instead of the expected Hilltop colors of maroon and white, it’s been recast in rainbow colors.
Underneath the logo reads WE ARE HILLTOP.
My friends clap and swoon, and even I smile a touch.
A flash of movement at the gazebo steps makes me double take. My jaw drops. “Charlie?!”
Charlie zips up the steps and smiles widely at each of us. “Congratulations, all.”
I don’t even hear their responses as I cross the gazebo and grip Charlie’s arm in my panic. “What are you doing here? Is Danny okay?”
Charlie looks at me with something very close to pity. “He’s not in imminent physical danger, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I release my breath. Okay, okay. Jesus, I thought something horrible had happened to him. My grip on Charlie is the only thing keeping me upright.
“No, I’m here to congratulate you on behalf of Jim and Trish.” He pulls a little wrapped package out of his back pocket. “You know Trish Reeves isn’t going to let you graduate without sending a little gift.”
My heart constricts. Even post-breakup, Jim and Trish Reeves are better parents to me than my “real” parents—or any of our parents, for that matter. Runzhou’s mom and K’s aunt are the only family members of our gang who are even here today.
I take the package carefully, running a hand over the tidy wrapping paper covered in little diplomas. Charlie senses my hesitance to open it, to be reminded of the life I could have had if I were someone different.
“What do we have here?” he asks mercifully, pointing to the painting that’s still displayed on the bench.
I pat his arm gratefully. “Our own take on alumni merchandising.”
Reese jumps in. “One of the theater department faculty created this painting for queer folks who don’t fit the Hilltop mold but still celebrate it as their university.”
Charlie cocks his head. “But why would you all celebrate this place? You aren’t Hilltop, right?”
His genuine confusion reminds me so much of when I stood in this very gazebo with Danny all those months ago, when he asked why I hadn’t just transferred out of this place. I smile, even through the heartache. That’s how good it feels to have this piece of Danny in my presence.
“But we are Hilltop,” I tell him. “They may not have accepted us, but we experienced a crucial time of our lives here. And we grew and changed and found each other. Hilltop is part of us, and we’re part of Hilltop.”
Charlie just looks at me, puzzled. Slipping Trish’s little package into my gown pocket, I snatch up the painting and prop it on my hip for us to examine more closely.
“Look. We don’t have to push Hilltop away. We don’t have to push the bad parts away. We can embrace that it’s part of our story, and we can paint over it. We can make something new and beautiful out of it …”
My voice trails off at the sudden memory of Danny telling me I make the ordinary seem magical.
I remember thinking that maybe I had turned my trauma into a gift.
I only appreciated the silly Jezebel List items because I never got to experience them like everyone else.
And I was able to bring that joy to Danny too.
Wasn’t TJL my attempt to paint over the bad?
Not rejecting the bad or trying to stamp it out, but accepting it as part of my story in order to transform it into something new. Something good.
Could I do that with the rest of the bad too? Is there a way to accept that girl on the church stage, instead of constantly trying to root her out, and paint something beautiful?
Heart rate ticking up, I set the painting on the bench and extract Trish’s gift. My inner voice is telling me to open it, even through the grief.
I open it.
It’s a pack of cigarillos. I meet Charlie’s eye.
“Because you told us you didn’t like the cigars as much, but Mom thought the occasion still needs marking,” he says with a roguish grin.
I laugh. I hear Runzhou’s quiet exhale of relief behind me. It’s the first real laugh of mine in a week.
I read Trish’s little note of congratulations, hearing it in her Boston accent, but there’s another note stuck underneath in careful print handwriting:
My Muse, Just because the world can be dark doesn’t mean you can’t let the light in. I love you, and I’m proud of you.
The world spins. Danny is gifting my own words back to me.
I thought I was seeing the goodness because of TJL and my Sweet Tea ideas. But I only saw the darkness when it came to my father and my grief. And yet they led me to this place. These people. They led me to Danny. They made me bold and creative and loving and grateful and proud.
The facts are suddenly simple: My dad made his choices—and I made mine.
Those choices couldn’t be more different.
I treasured the books that gave me empathy.
I didn’t cover my ears when the questions got too loud.
I accepted the helping hands of new friends.
I went to therapy when I couldn’t sort through the self-hate on my own.
I chose to explore the joys of this life and share that journey with the world.
I let myself fall in love with a man who knows and loves every inch of me.
In my case, I can trust my inner voice because of my past, not in spite of it.
Because I couldn’t be the Jezebel without having been the girl on the church stage.
The fear is what makes bravery possible; every part of my story is vital.
It’s the very thing I’ve been wanting Danny to understand but didn’t apply to myself.
The goodness of Danny’s upbringing is why he can care for injustices like others can’t, just like the trauma of my upbringing is why I can appreciate what others can’t.
And yet we both deserve to pay it forward while still having plenty for ourselves.
I’ve already been painting over the bad. I just didn’t let in enough light to see that.
But now, looking at my friends and Danny’s handwriting and the painting and Charlie and the T-shirts and the monogrammed Bible and the cigarillos … light is blasting through this gazebo.
And all I want is to share that light with the love of my life. The man who loves me for who I am, just like I love him for who he is. The man who is proud of me for doing my best, even when my best is a broken mess.
“Tell me really, Charlie.” I tug his sleeve, steeling myself. “How is he?”
He sighs. “He’s been sleeping on my couch, Chris. He won’t go into his house.”
“What?” My voice comes out a whisper.
“He said yesterday he’ll probably sell it. That it was your house together, and now it’s too painful.”
I close my eyes against the clawing through my ribcage. He’s right: It was our house. It is our house. I knew it before, and I know it now.
With all this light, I can trust myself to know it now.
“We just miss you so much, Chris.”
I open my eyes. “We?”
“Yes, we. You wormed your way into the whole family’s heart, damn you. I thought Dad was gonna burst out crying when you weren’t at family dinner this past week. He said it’ll be his low every week until he sees you again.”
I only notice the hot tear dripping down my face when Charlie raises a thumb to catch it, just like his brother. The simple gesture hits me like a truck.
The truth is suddenly so obvious and so wonderful that I laugh.
And then I can’t stop laughing. Deep, gut laughter that has me doubling over to prop my hands on my knees over my graduation gown, releasing the misery of the last week so my inner voice can expand and ring through every cell of my body.
Danny’s family is my family. And my found family is his.
Because Danny was never a path at all. Danny is home.
It’s why there was never a question of performing with one another. It’s why we could cultivate a romantic relationship without limitations. It’s why we create such magic together, whether making documentaries or making dinner.
Which impresses on me more than ever that any path is open to me—always.
Choosing Danny doesn’t lock me into any particular future, and I could never take him away from his home.
Danny will simply be walking the paths beside me and setting up camp wherever and whenever we need as we listen for what’s right.
Belonging to each other doesn’t close possibilities; it opens them.
Because we’ll be carrying home and family with us wherever we go.
When I can finally straighten and breathe, my family is smiling at me with just a faint undertone of concern.
“Charlie.”
He straightens at the commanding determination in my tone.
“I need your help.”
Then I take in each of my friends’ loving, hopeful faces. “I need all of your help.”