Twenty-Five
Garrett’s parents leave. His dad utters half-formed threats about how much Garrett will regret this choice, about how he’s throwing away his future.
His mom ushers his dad and a speechless Lana into the SUV, and they drive away.
Garrett, already packed, moves two blocks away to Aunt Liz’s house, settling into her guest room.
Within hours, they are both back at our house, Aunt Liz preparing a big dinner and Garrett watching baseball with Dad on the couch.
We gather around the table for lasagna that evening, unsure whether we’re mourning or celebrating.
Garrett has lost so much—and Aunt Liz and Dad have grounded both of us for two weeks—but I can tell that a weight has lifted from him.
He seems lighter than he has in a long time.
Having not returned to Atlanta, Garrett is formally kicked out of the GYA program, but it doesn’t matter much at this point since he’s an adult and has found a new home.
We don’t file the paperwork to unenroll Garrett from IHS, and the school doesn’t seem to care about GYA now that Garrett has officially moved in with Aunt Liz.
The weeks until graduation tick by, and instead of worrying about next year or about Garrett’s parents, we get to enjoy ourselves.
On prom night, I borrow Dad’s truck to pick Garrett up, and he emerges from Aunt Liz’s house in his navy suit. He gets in the passenger seat and hands me a small sachet.
“I didn’t think you’d care about a corsage or anything,” he says. “So I got you this.”
I open it. Inside is a polished black stone, awash in thousands of nearly luminescent sparkles. “It’s beautiful,” I say.
“It’s from the Caving Grounds,” Garrett tells me. “Hematite. I found it on our first trip there. Aunt Liz has a rock tumbler, and she helped me make it look like this. Now you’ll always have part of the Caving Grounds even if you don’t go there anymore.”
I burst out laughing. For a brief second, Garrett looks hurt, but then I pull my gift out of my pocket. “I didn’t wrap mine.”
He takes the object from my hand and puts his palm over his face. “We got each other rocks,” he says.
“Mine’s from Lake Superior,” I say. “Also polished by Aunt Liz.”
“We’re so dumb,” he says, then reaches for the stereo’s aux cable. “I created a playlist of my favorite movie soundtracks for our drive. You better love it. This shit took work, especially since I never pay close attention to soundtracks.”
We drive to Watertown, listening to Michael Giacchino, Patrick Doyle, and James Horner. Garrett chose bangers from Star Trek, Brave, and Titanic, all of which are driving, evocative pieces with an edge of hope hiding behind hurt. It fits Garrett, and it fits us.
Prom is magical, taking place in a bright, open banquet hall next to Lake Superior. We laugh with our friends and dance, eventually spilling out onto a balcony that overlooks the lake under a vast sky of stars. Time freezes.
And then the weeks continue moving toward graduation, and our class does all the things that generations of seniors before us have done.
We skip school and get crappy food from Harry’s Mexican Restaurant and hang out on the playground of our elementary school until the teachers shoo us away at recess.
We dress like idiots for Senior Spirit Week and break our voices during our final pep rally.
We undertake an elaborate prank that involves live geese and several gallons of hand lotion.
On the night of graduation, we sit in rows of folding chairs on the football field, which smells of warm dampness and fertilizer. The sun dips behind the iron hills to the west of town while chickadees chatter irreverently from a nearby tree.
Garrett, seated several rows in front of me, is stoic.
I know this must be hard for him. My entire extended family watches from the stands, and while they are also here to support him, it’s not the same as having his own family come.
While Katrina gives the valedictorian address, I watch the back of Garrett’s head and wonder if there will ever be a way to help him find the home he’s lost.
Then there are diplomas to distribute, hands to shake, caps to toss.
When it’s all over, when the audience has swarmed the field, turning it into a mass of navy gowns and hugging bodies, Garrett finds me.
Standing with my family, I catch a glimpse of a clean white collar and a neat tie, and then Garrett’s arms fold around me, enveloping me in the curtains of his gown.
“Thank you,” he says, lips against my ear. “Thank you for everything this year.”
He steps back, and before I can respond, my family cascades into us, pulling us into crushing hugs.
There’s Dad and Aunt Liz and Emma, but also Aunt Anna, Aunt Julia, Gloria, and Remy.
Remy, still Garrett’s biggest fan, leaps into his arms and finds himself on Garrett’s shoulders, fingers gripping his hair.
Garrett is grinning, looking up at him, when his eye catches something behind me, and he freezes.
I turn. It takes me a second to recognize the man because I only met him on a video screen. He’s shorter than Garrett, but in person, their resemblance is even stronger.
“Charlie,” Garrett says, and he looks like he’s about to break. He lifts Remy from his shoulders and sets him on the ground, staring wide-eyed at his brother. “You came.”
Charlie grins and draws him into a hug. “Wouldn’t miss it, baby bro.”
They pull apart, and Garrett’s gaze lands on the woman behind Charlie. His jaw slackens, his eyes shifting focus as if he had been unexpectedly tackled.
“I hope it’s okay that I came,” his mom says. She stands, hands folded in front of her, uncertain and small. “I wanted to be here for you. But I understand if you don’t want to see me right now.”
Garrett’s eyes refocus. “No,” he says. “Thanks. Thank you for coming. I’m … I’m glad you’re here. Really.”
He means it, I can tell. Even if he isn’t ready to forgive her, even if he isn’t ready to forget what happened and return to Atlanta, he is glad his mother and brother came here to support him. A beat of silence falls, and then my aunts swoop in, making Garrett’s family feel like our family.
“Garrett has told me so much about you,” Aunt Liz tells Charlie, pulling him into a hug.
“We’re having a party,” Aunt Julia tells Gina, “at Joe’s place. Right after this. You don’t need to bring anything.”
Gina looks horrified by the idea of returning to the place where her husband almost fought my dad. “I couldn’t—”
“Please come,” Dad says, stepping forward and cutting off her objection. “Garrett would love to have you there. We’d all like to get to know you.”
Gina still looks uncertain, but she glances at Garrett, and I can tell she won’t refuse an excuse to be near her son right now. She nods.
We return to our house, and everyone streams into our backyard, which is lit by twinkle lights and filled with tables groaning under the weight of pizzas and salads and every dessert Aunt Julia knows how to make.
Throughout the evening, friends from school stop by, and I listen to Garrett invent a dozen different reasons to explain why he’s staying in Irontown for the indefinite future.
I watch him laughing with Charlie and a group of football players on the other side of the yard. He has rolled his shirtsleeves up, his tie hanging loose around his neck. He seems like the most carefree person in the world, like any high school senior might look on the night of his graduation.
“You good?” Dad claps one hand on my shoulder, grasping a beer in the other.
“I’m good. So good.”
Dad’s gaze follows mine. “You’re still worried about him, though.”
“I can’t tell if he’s acting or not. If he’s actually okay.”
“You don’t think he’s relieved? Do you think he regrets his choice to stay in Irontown?”
“No,” I say quickly. “It’s just … he lost so much this year. His dad didn’t come to his graduation, and he still doesn’t want to go home, but he’s acting like everything is normal.”
Dad nods and takes a swig from his bottle.
“I think he’s been losing his parents for a long time.
I think he lost them when he came out and they abused the hell out of him.
He lost them again when they sent him here in August. And again when they showed up here the other week.
” He scrutinizes Garrett, brow furrowing.
“Tonight he doesn’t look like someone experiencing loss.
He looks like someone who’s found something. ”
Dad is right, I think, watching Garrett.
He’s not acting. For once, he looks truly, completely relaxed, like he’s shed a heavy weight, like he’s allowing himself to be happy.
He’s telling a story to Charlie and his friends, his gestures big, his facial expressions unrestrained, and the whole group bursts into laughter as he finishes.
He has a home. His brother and mother are here. After everything that’s happened, after all the times his parents messed with his life this year, Garrett finally controls his own destiny. He still has decisions to make about his future, but he has so many people who care about him.
A smile spreads across my own face as I watch him, and he glances at me in time to catch it. The party around us quiets as his eyes meet mine, happy crinkles forming at their edges.
He is okay. He will be okay.
He lifts his cup in a toast and throws a grin at me, and I’m reminded of something he told his parents when they came to get him: “I love Enzo. I loved him before he even knew I was bi.” He came out to me at the end of October, long before I’d admitted my own feelings to him, months before I had the courage to make a move.
He’s loved me so much longer than I realized.
Something must shift in my face, because he raises an eyebrow. But then another friend joins his group, and he greets him, turning his full luminescent attention on him. Then Trevor and Katrina arrive at the party and rush toward me, filled with joyful abandon, and the night rolls forward.