drove the rest of the way home in silence, and all I wanted to do was shower and get to bed so that it would hurry up and be tomorrow, though I was pretty sure I was too excited to sleep. Alone again, I checked to see if Dean had written back.
PrezMamasBoy: Thank you, Dre.
PrezMamasBoy: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.
PrezMamasBoy: Sweet dreams.
PrezMamasBoy: ~Dean
I couldn’t stop smiling, and then I remembered what Mel had said and I knew she was right. He might not mean to, and he probably wouldn’t even realize he’d done it, but Dean was going to break my heart.
Dean
I CHECKED THE time on my phone again, then logged into the Amtrak app to make sure Dre’s train hadn’t been delayed. I’d made all the arrangements and had even bought his ticket. It’s not that I didn’t think Dre was capable of organizing his own travel arrangements, but I hated leaving details to others. It wasn’t one of my most admirable qualities. I was the person in group projects who usually did all the work. I didn’t care who got credit for it so long as I knew it was done and done well. Learning to trust others was difficult for me, but I was trying. When it came to Dre, however, I wanted to leave nothing to chance.
The plan was for Dre to take the 12:12 p.m. Northeast Regional from Providence to the Back Bay station in Boston. The entire trip was scheduled to take forty-four minutes and had only cost fifteen dollars. It was exactly one o’clock, and Dre’s train still hadn’t arrived.
I didn’t know why I was so nervous, but I’d spent all night staring at the ceiling of the hotel room. At two in the morning, I’d gone to the fitness center and run until I was drenched in sweat and my legs had felt as mushy as clay and heavy as lead, but even that hadn’t tired me out enough to sleep well.
Dre and I shouldn’t have been friends. If we’d gone to the same school, I doubted he would have wanted to hang out with someone like me. He and his artsy friends likely would have spent their time mocking me for being too reserved and buttoned up. He did monster makeup, I studied philosophy. He went to comic book conventions, I attended political rallies. He played Dungeons & Dragons, I played the piano. Badly. The only thing we had in common was that our parents were both running for president, and I wondered if our friendship would end after the election when we no longer shared that unique experience.
I was sure that Dre also believed we had something in common because he was gay and I was exploring my sexuality, but I had never viewed a person’s sexual orientation as a defining characteristic or a thing over which two people could bond. Maybe I would have if I’d been out or had gone through the experiences the way Dre had. I didn’t fault Dre for feeling the way he did about his sexuality; I just didn’t share his enthusiasm. For some people, their personality traits were an extension of their sexuality, but that wasn’t true for me. My personality was no more influenced by my sexuality than it was by my right-handedness. It was a part of me, but it did not define me.
If we had sat down and made a list of what Dre and I individually believed, I was certain that we would be at odds on nearly everything. And yet, talking to him—just thinking about talking to him—made my skin tingle. It made me smile and look like a fool. Nora had caught me staring into space with a goofy grin spread across my face on the plane ride to Boston. I’d been so flustered that I hadn’t been able to think up a good explanation for being happy when she’d asked me. But I was. Happy. Thinking about Dre made me happy. And if you had told me there was a nuclear bomb set to destroy Washington, DC, and that answering why Dre made me happy was the only way to prevent it, I still wouldn’t have been able to say.
Dre was improbable and inexplicable and getting off the train wearing tight green and black plaid pants that made his legs look runway-model long, a white shirt, and a denim jacket. His hair was curly and wild, and he was grinning from ear to ear.
“You