Redefining Normal By Owen Wright
To the readers of "Redefining Normal,"
Whether you've been a loyal reader from the beginning (in 2010, can you believe it?) or just tuned in to the story now, I'd like to take a moment to genuinely thank you for joining me on this journey.
"Redefining Normal," when I began writing it, was essentially a story of self-discovery, which is nothing new. But I carefully selected the characters to represent voices, faces, and perspectives I hadn't seen in popular media at the time. Keith, the out and proud jock. James, an Asian kid who defied the stereotypical "model minority" role. And especially, Kasey and Orion, whose story of coming together was one I felt compelled to tell.
This is the 10th and final chapter in the series. I can't tell you how amazing it feels to be able to provide closure to the characters and for you, the readers. But know that I will also miss these boys and their world immensely.
I hope reading the close of this story brings you the same joy it brought me to write it. As always, I appreciate the notes and the messages (find me at superwrighter13@gmail.com).
I wish you the best of luck forging your own paths, writing your own stories, and of course, redefining normal in the world around you.
Best wishes, Owen
Chapter 10 - Catch a Falling Star
It's the closing night of Orion's show and my last chance to make a move.
I'm wearing Dad's old tux; it's a little out of date but since we're almost the same height now, it's trimmed in all the right places. I feel sharp. He offered it up after I told them the plan to get Orion back. By now, it feels like I've told everyone but Orion that I want him back.
When I came out to Mom and Dad, I was nervous, but I wasn't scared. Since Keith paved the way for me, I knew there wouldn't be any surprises. I can't imagine how hard it must be for other kids and their families. Personally, I worked up the courage to come out over dinner a few nights ago, with Keith nodding along to everything I said and letting me speak. I told Mom and Dad how confused I was by Zeo, the guidance Keith gave me, and how I recognized the truth in the way I felt about Orion. They told me how proud they were, and thanked Keith for being my role model.
"It's still a scary place out there for boys like you," Dad said. "I'm just glad you have each other to lean on."
Mom grabbed both of our hands and just looked at us both and smiled and tried not to get tears in her mashed potatoes.
"I'm happy that you told us," she said. "But I hope you weren't scared to. I don't ever want you to feel like you have to hide anything from us."
"I don't have anything to hide, not anymore," I said.
Then I told them all about the plan.
We call the plan Operation Starboy. The name was Mikey's but the rest of it was--I guess the best word for it is "crowdsourced." Joni insisted on balloons. James is holding the flowers, all three dozen of them. Mikey has a large stuffed bear stuffed under his chair. Zeo promised he wouldn't bring firecrackers but I still don't believe he left them at home.
My parents are here tonight, along with Keith and all of my friends. When I called in the cavalry, it turned out I had more support than I'd ever imagined. People respond to the truth. They like honesty.
But when the show begins and Orion steps on stage, the chocolates and the stuffed bear and the speakers with Zeo's `romance jamz' playlist just don't feel right. They feel like the end to someone else's love story, not ours. What Orion really needs to know, and what I haven't shown him, is exactly how I feel. That I'm ready.
"We have to call it off," I whisper to Zeo.
"What? I'm sitting on like 30 balloons here."
"Just--pass it down. Everything's cancelled."
"Look, Special K. It's ok to be scared. But you have to do this. You and Orion have a shot at something here. Don't give it up so easily."
"I know. I'm not. I just don't think this is the right way to do it. What we planned is big and impressive and that stuff is great for movies but Orion doesn't care what big things I do. He cares about how I feel. I just have to show him that I'm ready."
"Hmm. Ok. But I don't want all of this to go to waste either."
"We'll figure it out later, just pass the message down."
He does, and the entire row is whispering loudly within minutes. I catch bits of "is he sure?" and "after all this?" but all I can think of is exactly how sure I am that I was about to make the completely wrong decision. Now, my mind made up, the anxiety that ran through me gently fades and I can enjoy the show for what it is, not concerned with my role in it at the close.
Orion is every ounce the star. He doesn't need a spotlight, when he walks on the stage, you can't miss him. The graceful lines of his body trace shadows on the set behind him, and when he opens his mouth to sing, I'm captivated. I can see his wide blue eyes from where I sit, ten rows back, cycling through every emotion, one moment comedic sadness, the next true joy. This is his element, his home. The theatre lives in him and here, onstage, he brings the play to life.
I don't feel love now, but pride. I know that boy onstage, and he once knew me. I'm amazed how I could have been so blind to it, so scared to let the world know how I felt about my star-boy. Not anymore. I want him, and I don't care who knows.
When the actors line up to take their bows, our row is the first one standing. Mikey is shouting, Zeo is trying to shout even louder, and all I can do is clap and try to contain the biggest smile ever tearing my face in two. Orion smiles when he sees the group of us, and I watch his eyes count each member of the row in turn: Mikey, Joni, James, Keith, Zeo. Then his gaze falls on me. My breath catches right behind my Adam's apple. He blinks. Pauses. Then quickly, he looks away, joins hands with the rest of the cast, and bows again before walking offstage.
"Now what?" Zeo asks.
"Now, I execute the new plan. Alone."
"What happened to Operation Starboy?" Mikey asked.
"I'm calling an audible," I say. "I'm going to run Mission Down to Earth."
"Well we're still coming with," Joni says.
"We can watch from a safe and respectful distance," Keith adds. "But yeah, we want to be there."
I agree, and we shuffle out, arms still conspicuously full with all the now defunct items we thought we'd need for Operation Starboy.
The lobby is full of well-wishers waiting to greet their friends and family who were in the cast, and I could care less. I train my eyes on the door and wait for only one person. I watch actor after actress walk through the flimsy black curtain divider into the wide arms of someone who hands them flowers while smiling until I feel like I've counted more people than I ever remember seeing onstage.
I can tell it's Orion before I even catch sight of him. It's the way the curtain draws in before he passes through it, as if gasping a little at his beauty. He emerges every bit the Star Boy he was on stage, even without the costume or the makeup or the lights. I smile because the familiar parts of him call to me like dots in the sky, the hollow in his collarbone, the slender fingers, and of course those two blue eyes.
He pauses, a strange motion for his body, I can tell. It's a momentary hesitation for someone who is typically so sure of themselves with every choreographed move. But his body doesn't know what to do this time. He moves past it, and something in him lets his body make its way over to me.
"Hey, thanks for coming," he says. He is polite. Poised.
"I'm sorry it took so long."
He just nods.
"I'm sorry for a lot of things."
"I know, Zeo told me--while you hid in the bushes. And that's all great, Kasey, but I don't want to be with someone who's still figuring it out, and confuses me and hurts me because of that. I need someone who knows what he wants. And I'm sorry but I don't think you're there yet."
I know my cheeks are flushed but I can't give up now, he's too close and we're too close to getting it right, and just as close to getting it wrong.
"I am there," I say. "I know who I am and that I want you."
I have a list in my left shirt pocket, right above my heart. I reach for it, but think better, and take his hand instead. There are no explanations left, no grand gestures that can compare to what I need to do now.
Orion hesitates, but leaves his hand in mine. I step barely an inch closer, so that our hands are the only things keeping us apart and so my words have no chance of missing his ears where I need them to land.
"You know that I want you back. But what I've never been able to tell you is how you make me feel. And that's big. Because you make me feel deep, crazy things I've never felt before and yes I was confused but I need you to know these things. The ways that you came into my life and stayed there."
I take his hand and fold it into a ball. Then I pull his index finger out and begin counting. One.
"I've been listening to Troye Sivan non-stop for the past three weeks--since that game against Lakewood, when you shared your earbud with me and leaned in. It feels like he's talking about us, and when I hear him, I see you. It does something to me--it brings me closer to you."
I pull out his second finger. Two.
"I get boners now when I think about jellyfish. But not in like a weird sexual kink kind of way, it's just--hold on, I can explain--after we did that project and spent all that time together, when I think about jellyfish, I think of you, in my room when we talked about the naked audience, you were and are the only audience I want to picture that way. It's actually happening now. We should move on."
Three.
"That game, remember, when coach made me cover 61 and I missed him and you covered for me. Remember what you whispered in my ear afterwards? I got you.' That's what you told me. I hear those words every night. I hear them when I'm unsure, even if I don't know which multiple choice answer to choose on a biology test, I hear that voice gentle in my ear and the way you wrapped your arms around me. That's what I imagine it would be like, to be with you. Your strong arms around me and your sweet voice saying I got you' forever. I don't think I'm wrong."
His eyes soften. I drink in his gaze. I was parched. I've been parched for so long.
Four.
"I need you to hear this part, even though it'll be hard. When I went on that date with Summer--"
I feel his hand push gently against my chest. But he stops. Breathes in. He stays. He leaves his hand there. We're close enough to feel each other's breath now, foreheads nearly touching.
"I looked up to the sky, but we were in the city and there were too many lights. Streetlights and stoplights and lamps on in living rooms. Something felt wrong. I couldn't see the stars. And I don't know why but I felt like I needed to. That's when I realized it. I couldn't see stars but all I could see were constellations. And you know I don't know any of them. I don't know what Orion's belt looks like or where the North Star is supposed to be. Oh, wait. North maybe? Anyway, I didn't need to know that. They were there, in the streetlights and lamplights and even reflections off puddles, those lights made constellations. They spelled out your name, they formed the shape of your collarbone, your hip, your eyes. And they all pointed me right here, back to you."
He laughs a little during that last one, and I know it's time to bring it home. Five.
"And last. This."
I release his pinky from its curled position and interlace my sweaty fingers between his cool, slender ones. Our palms touch. I squeeze tight and the feeling courses through my forearm, radiates through my chest, races down to my toes tucked away in my trainers.
"I've been wanting to do this from the moment I met you. `Palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.' You taught me that once."
It's a quote from Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. He's beneath her balcony begging for her to give him a chance. She plays coy. Orion read it to me one day on the bus to a game, his voice barely a whisper. I was entranced, but I'm not sure if he remembers.
The moment he answers, I know that I'm supposed to be here, with him, and that I ever doubted that is insane.
"Then let lips do as hands do," he says, reciting the phrase as if a reflex, the automatic and assumed response to mine. But when he looks up at me, I know he means every word.
I tip my mouth up to meet his and feel his lips land gently onto mine, a leaf falling in Autumn, a drop of water in a still pond. I press my lips deeper, feel the fullness of mouth on mouth, the gentle power a rush through every nerve.
And fireworks. Not real, I don't think. But there when I close my eyes. I feel warmth all over and see bursts of brightness against the dark. My Orion, lighting up my night and showing me the way when I'm too stubborn to find the path. My Orion, who leads me by the hand, our fingers interlaced and shows me what bravery really looks like, what a song means when you sing it with your all, and how a kick carries the same grace whether on the field or the stage.
This is what it's supposed to feel like, I think. The fairy tales make sense now, Disney didn't lie, and even though they've never shown it, I know now there can be magic in another boy's kiss. Without an Alan Menken orchestra playing in the background, I don't know if it qualifies as true love's kiss, but I've never felt anything closer to it.
Then I hear the fireworks. Furious, multiple cracks against the darkness. I open my eyes, part from Orion's still pursed lips, and see them. So Zeo did bring firecrackers. Keith is sort of chaperoning the lighting of them to keep it all safe. The flashes reveal my friends, my family, clapping and yelling. Joni's crying into Keith's shoulder and even Mikey has to take off his glasses to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. My mom rests her head on my Dad's shoulder. They both look proud. The balloons have risen around us, bobbing over the heads of everyone. James pushes flowers into my hand that I push into Orion's chest, and that only makes him tear up more. It's all noise and sound and happiness. Everyone I love is around us, hugging us and pulling us in and grasping our shoulders and kissing our cheeks and even one or two butt slaps thrown in for good measure.
Through it all, I hold tight to Orion's hand. I know that I have to let go eventually, but I'm not ready yet. We've both fought too hard to be here, to win this as a team. I will hold on as long as he lets me.
EPILOGUE
The fall chill settles on our shoulders, but I've got a guy to keep me warm. And my sweater. Both are comfy.
It's several weeks after that massively dramatic stunt I still can't believe I pulled at Orion's show. We're watching Keith's football game at a stadium filled with our classmates, their families, and closest to us, my best friends. It's loud. Our colors are everywhere--the stands are a swirl of red and white. Zeo, of course, has painted his entire body, and has spent the entire time yelling "woo!" in James's ear every time we score.
Orion looks over at me, grins, brushes his hand through my hair.
It's a misty rain, Portland delivering on its annual October promise. On the field, mud stains splash over the players' white pants. Thankfully, the game is almost over, so we shouldn't get too wet. Our school, Lincoln, is down by 2 points with a minute left. Our boys chip away with a few runs, trying to get close enough for a field goal.
"The rain's all stuck in your hair like dew," he says.
"You just wanted an excuse to touch my hair," I say.
"Hey! Don't call me out in front of everyone," he says, laughing.
"Some of us are trying to watch the game," Mikey says.
Joni gently shoves her shoulder against Mikey's.
"You're just watching the cheerleaders," she replies. "Just one to be specific."
"I'm dating her. Of course I'm going to watch her."
"Cheyenne?" Summer asks. "Is that official now?"
Summer's become a part of our crew now in a way that feels absolutely natural. Joni needed a real female best friend (`no offense, guys,' she said) and once Summer found out about Orion and I, she became one of our biggest supporters. It was a good addition, I think.
"As of last week, yeah," Mikey confirms, shyly.
We start to congratulate him but James and Zeo--who are the only ones actually watching the game--interrupt us loudly to point towards the field.
"Keith!" Zeo shouts.
A long pass sails through the air and begins its downward arc. Within fractions of a second, Keith inches ahead of the corner, who spins from a back pedal to run full tilt to catch up. It's too late. Keith reaches his arms in front of him to catch the ball, then tucks it under his arm and begins the 20-yard sprint to the endzone. We're on our feet at the catch, arms raised after 10 yards, screaming in the last 10, then hugging and whooping and generally congratulating each other when Keith scores the winning touchdown.
They play out the last 50 or so seconds and my parents find their way back to us. Apparently they were catching up with some old friends on the way back from concessions and Dad missed the entire thing.
He shakes his head.
"Your mom didn't even warn me!"
"I froze," she says, "it was all too exciting."
When the game is over, we fight through the crowd to get down to the field. Orion grabs my hand so we don't get separated. It's weird how natural that feels now, how quickly my hand reaches out and he finds it without words, sometimes without even looking. I shouldn't say weird. It's not weird. It's good.
I follow Zeo's bright red back through the crowd (did he have to paint his back? How did that even work?) and Orion follows close behind me. Somewhere in the crowd behind Orion are the rest of my friends and hopefully, my parents. And I don't care if any of them see us holding hands. They've seen a lot worse already. I feel safe and it feels good.
Keith gives me a sweaty, wet hug and it's hard to tell which part of him is plastic or padding and which is actual muscle but he squeezes everyone tight, one after the other, in between giving high fives to his teammates and other fans as they pass by. He is every bit the quintessential American jock hero, and gay. And I'm happy to be his also gay, quintessentially lovable boy-next-door sidekick.
"No rehearsal tonight?" Keith asks Orion, happy to see him.
"Just the school play," Orion says. "And I got them to cancel in the interest of school spirit. It's not every day our team has a shot at the playoffs."
"Nice!" Keith says, looking pleased. "So, Mom, Dad," he starts with a wide grin.
"Let me guess," Dad says. "You want to throw a `little' party at the house to celebrate?"
Keith tries to look guilty but is too happy to succeed.
"Just some of the guys you already know," he says. "Jamal, Chipper, Trent, maybe Landon."
"Landon?" Zeo asks. "Guerrero?"
"Yeah, him," Keith says, suddenly interested in something in the distance, on his hand, and generally on anything but talking further about Landon Guerrero.
Landon Guerrero is in our Biology class. Not the brightest guy, but will always offer a stick of gum if you're nearby and will deliver it with a killer smile and the softest brown skin. Definitely Keith's type. All humans' type, honestly. I recognize these things now. Joni says it's because I've awakened my gaydar. Mikey says that's not a real thing. What does he know?
"Since when do you hang out with second-string quarterbacks?" I ask.
"Keep asking questions and you and your nosy friends aren't invited tonight," Keith says.
"You can't uninvite me, I live there," I say.
"Mom?" Keith says.
"He's uninvited," she confirms.
When I protest, she laughs but refuses to back down.
"Fine. No more questions," I agree.
"Alright, you're all reinvited. I'll see you there?" Keith says, looking for confirmation from my crew.
They nod.
"But I will make observations," I whisper to Orion.
I get a faceful of wet leather glove as Keith puts his whole hand over my face. I try to protest but it comes out "mmpf!"
"I heard that," he says, before gently shoving me away. Then, he's gone before I can fight back.
Keith makes good on his promise of a quiet party. It's just me and my crew and just a few of his friends. Landon shows up a little late, looking apologetic. Keith forgives him immediately, even though he kept glancing at the gate and at his phone for the hour that he had to wait for him. He's got it bad and it's fun to watch someone else go through that torture/joy I lived through.
The fire is warm. The sky is still. Orion is draped over me like a scarf, his lanky left arm thrown casually around my shoulder, his face buried into the crook of my neck. We're singing along to some classics Keith knows on the guitar--a little James Taylor, a little Sam Cook, a little John Mayer. Landon can't stop smiling. He looks impressed.
Mikey has fallen asleep between James and Zeo, who can't pass up this opportunity to chat with the cool upperclassmen Keith brought over. Jamal and Chipper must be telling Joni and Summer something funny, because they're laughing. I realize I haven't seen Ross in a while, then decide to worry about it a different day.
Most days I just have to get through, there's an English paper due or a Geometry test the next day. Tonight, though, that's all on pause. I just feel lucky. Friends around a fireplace, boy by my side, family there for it all.
Keith sings "your body is a wonderland," and Orion and I harmonize with the chorus, sending our voices up into the clouds.
That night, Keith and I are too tired to shower after everyone leaves and too tired to even separate, our mutual deliriousness keeping each other in check. We fall on our backs on his made bed, still smelling faintly of campfire smoke, spicy charred wood.
"If anyone had described this night to me a year ago," I tell him, "and told me it was all going to happen, there's no way I would have believed them."
"I know the feeling," Keith says. "No regrets, though? Not ready to kick me out of the house yet?"
"You'll go to college soon enough," I say.
He elbows me.
"But seriously, thanks," I continue. "I didn't know I could be this happy until you showed me how."
"I showed you it was possible. You put in all the work. And luck didn't hurt either--if I could have landed a guy like Orion at your age," he starts.
"Hey, hands off Orion, I called dibs. What about Landon?"
"What about Landon?" he deflects. "He's cute, gay, hopefully into me. Only time will tell."
"I think those wide eyes he was sending you by the campfire told a lot."
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
Keith smiles, pleased.
"So maybe we both get a happy ending," he says.
And just like that, I feel like we did it. We redefined normal for us to mean jock gay brothers and it couldn't feel more natural. I don't know what's on the road ahead, but with Keith by my side, and as his loyal sidekick, none of it scares me anymore. I know we'll take it and figure out a way to make it work for us instead of against us. I am not fearless yet, but I am not fearful anymore. We are who we are and who we were meant to be. I am more present in my body, here in this bed, in this house, than I've ever been; I am more Kasey than I've ever felt. All thanks to Keith.
"I love you, bro," I say. "Yes homo."
Keith smiles.
"I love you, too, my homo bro."