Page 128 of When Ben Loved Tim
“Uh, nearly a dozen sketchbooks and an entire studio full of work? I can help you put together a portfolio. I know absolutely nothing about that kind of thing, but I’m sure we can figure it out together. As long as we get someone to look at what you’ve done, they’ll recognize what you’re capable of.”
Tim turns to me, his expression insecure. “You really think so?”
“Yeah,” I assure him. “And it’s not just because I love you. You’ve got real talent.”
“Thanks, Benjamin.”
Once he’s had his fill, we leave the arts building and hang out at one of the dining halls while guzzling caffeine. Then we set out again, taking a different route back to the downtown area. I guide us to a street where most of the businesses are flying a rainbow flag.
“What’s this?” Tim asks.
“The gay district.”
“Gay district?” he repeats.
“Or bisexual, or trans, or lesbian. If you’re queer, you belong here. Even straight boyfriends are welcome.”
Tim laughs. “For real? This is all gay?”
“Yup. Even the fire hydrants.” I nod at one that has been painted pink.
“Wow,” he says in awe, even though it’s literally just one street on this particular block. But compared to how little representation we grew up with, it feels massive. This is the second thing I needed him to see. “Homophobes exist everywhere,” I say, “but at least here, people like us can pool our strength and form a community. This is a liberal city. Even in the other areas, there are plenty of allies.”
We stroll down the street until we reach a bookstore with a number of alluring displays in the window. One focuses on queer history, another features erotic art. Tim is staring at the cover of a Tom of Finland collection when I ask if he wants to go inside.
“Right now?” he says, before glancing around with the sort of paranoia I haven’t seen since we left my hometown.
“If you want,” I say patiently. “Or you could kiss me, right here, because nobody knows who we are. Not a single person in this entire city has ever seen you before today or knows your name. We’re hundreds of miles away from your friends. And your parents. It’s just you and me, like when we’re alone, but this time we’re not.”
This is the third and most important thing I wanted to show him while here. Not a tourist attraction or any sort of destination. It’s a promise of what could be. I watch Tim’s face as the potential sinks in. He grins suddenly. I smile back, only bringing my lips together again when he leans forward to kiss me.
Tim starts laughing against my mouth before he leans away. “This is so awesome!”
He intertwines his fingers in mine. A woman is walking down the sidewalk, but he doesn’t shake me off. “How ya doin’?” Tim says to her as she passes. “It’s a beautiful day!”
“It certainly is,” she replies with a smile.
After that, I’m practically dragged along the street. He’s swinging our hands between us gleefully, which only draws more attention to the fact that we’re together. And yet it doesn’t seem to be enough for him, because when we approach a pair of guys walking in our direction, he says, “Hey! I’m Tim. This is my boyfriend, Benjamin. We hope you have a good one!”
The guys laugh, their eyes lingering on Tim. What have I unleashed upon the world? Even when we leave the gay district, Tim doesn’t let go of me. When we stop to look at something, he often kisses me right there in the daylight. Which is almost enough to make me weep tears of joy.
“So what do you think?” I ask him when we’re sitting in his car again.
“I love it here,” he replies. “But admission deadlines were months ago. My parents are already freaking out that I haven’t committed to one of the schools that accepted me.”
“Why haven’t you?” I ask.
He shifts uncomfortably. “Because the first one is Catholic. That’s their favorite. The other two only want me based on my athletic achievements.”
“Oh.” I refuse to give in to despair. “It doesn’t hurt to try. I bet you’ll get a fast answer, since they’ve probably gone through most of the applications already. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
Tim glances around, but for once, he does so with hope instead of fear.
“Yeah,” he says at last. “Let’s try.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m singing my heart out while rinsing off dishes in the sink. My dad joins me on the chorus, his voice dry and toneless, as he sticks a fistful of cutlery in the dishwasher. I love the oldies. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single genre of music that I don’t appreciate on some level. I’m holding out the dish brush to my dad so he can sing into it like a microphone when the doorbell rings.
