Rejoicing Hen – 8

[OCTOBER 6, 1990 – Saturday, 8:00 pm]

Peter

As she’d promised, Sherri had two tickets waiting for us at the door.  I looked around as we entered the dining hall.  It was decorated in fall colors with drapes of fabric hiding the fact that it was just a cafeteria.  The tables had been moved to the perimeter of the room, creating a large dance floor in the center.  Paper leaves in red and gold and yellow were everywhere—scattered on tables and piled up in drifts in the corners.  Candlelight and soft music completed the scene. 

I froze in place after I stepped through the doorway.  The room was full of happy people, couples smiling and laughing, greeting friends, and finding seats.  And among the many couples, at least three quarters of them were two people of the same sex. 

I had a sudden urge to turn and leave.

“Hey, Peter, why don’t we take that table by the window?” I felt Derek take my hand as his soft voice broke through my anxiety. He gave a slight tug, and I found myself following him.

He guided me to a chair, and I sat automatically, glancing nervously around the room. 

So many people. So many gay people. Just openly being…gay.

A waiter in a white shirt and black slacks approached holding a tray with glasses.  “Can I interest you gentlemen in some sparkling punch?” he offered.

Derek smiled, thanked him, and took two glasses from the tray.  He set one down in front of me as the waiter walked away.  “Should we have a toast?”

I took a deep, slow breath and lifted my glass.  I tilted my head toward Derek, smiled, and nodded.

“To new beginnings,” he said.  We clinked our glasses together and drank.

“Hey, that’s pretty good,” I said, surprised by the tart fruity flavor and bubbles.

“It is,” Derek agreed.  “That gives me hope for the buffet.” He gestured toward the long tables across the room where couples were lining up to fill their plates.  “Want to get some food, or sit and talk a bit?”

“Food first, I think.  We spent a lot of time talking last night,” I replied.

The buffet line had grown longer, but it moved quickly. Derek and I held hands as we waited, and I took some time to look around.  Everyone seemed to be having a good time.  Hetero and same sex couples mingling together and no one casting angry glances.  No one condemning anyone for who they were with.

This is how things should be, I realized.  I took another deep breath, squeezed Derek’s hand, and forced my gut to relax. 

“You OK?” Derek asked.  “You’ve been doing a lot of deep breathing tonight.”

“Yes,” I nodded.  “This is just so new for me, you know? My subconscious keeps expecting to get in trouble, get scolded at least, for this.” I pulled our clasped hands up to my lips and gave Derek’s fingers a quick kiss.  We reached the buffet table and a server handed us plates and silverware. 

“Because of how you were raised,” Derek commented as we held out our plates to be filled.

“Yes, but then I remember to breathe, and I look at you, and I realize that this is just where I most want to be.”

Derek’s smile was bright as he ducked his head. “Me, too,” he said softly.

Over dinner, I asked Derek about his morning class.  “What do you have that meets on a Saturday morning?”

“It’s my student teaching,” he replied between bites.  “I’m working in an inner city program for Spanish-speaking kids.  I do tutoring in any subject they need help with, or just help them learn English.”

“So you speak Spanish?”

“Yeah, I learned as a kid.  Mom and Dad and I all took a class together.  I think I was about six or seven.”

I nodded, “That makes sense; it’s easier to learn another language when you’re a child, and you three would have had each other to practice with.”

Wait staff had begun circulating again, some removing dinner dishes, others offering trays of desserts.  Derek chose a slice of carrot cake and I took my favorite, red velvet.

As we ate, a band took to the stage that had been set up at the front of the dining hall.  They opened with a lively dance song and couples hurried to the dance floor.

I caught Derek watching them and realized this was my chance.  I took a deep breath and Derek heard me.  He turned back from staring at the dancers. 

“Another deep breath? What’s up?” he asked with a smile.

“We’ve known each other for two days and already you’ve figured me out,” I shook my head and smiled back at him.

“Well, I’ve been paying attention.  When you’re feeling anxious, you self-calm by deep breathing.  It’s a good thing to do.”  He reached for my hand across the table.  “So, I’ll ask again, what’s up?”

I took his hand.  “It just occurred to me that I’d really like to ask you to dance.”

“And you’ve never danced with a guy before?”

“I’ve never danced with someone I liked before,” I said. 

Derek raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.  “Well, if that’s all it is,” he stood up and pulled me to my feet.  “Let’s dance.”

The first few songs were easy—fast paced and energetic—but then a slow song came on.  I stopped myself from taking a deep breath, laughed instead, and pulled Derek into my arms.

He leaned against me and sighed as we swayed to the soft music.  “You OK, Peter? No need for a deep breath?”

I stared for a moment down into Derek’s dark brown eyes.  “I’m better than ‘OK’,” I said softly.  Then I leaned over and kissed him. 

Our first kiss.

“Well done,” Derek murmured.  He laid his hand along my face as the song ended and the band moved into a livelier tune.

“Now you know my secret—I’m a closet romantic.” I took his hand and kissed the palm.

Derek gestured around the dance floor we were sharing with a dozen other couples.  “I’d say you’re not a ‘closet’ anything anymore.”

We laughed together and danced the rest of the night.