Midwinter Night's Dream (6 page)

I pushed to my feet. I needed to get to my cell phone in my room and call Helen. We were supposed to meet up for pizza, but maybe she'd bring it over and we could huddle in my room and listen to music with serious feels.

I needed pepperoni and a mother-fucking hug.

*                               *                                    *

Helen

Leo was running scenes with Oberon and Titania. Tyrell was a very dignified Oberon, but Will Fisher camping it up as Titania—he'd be doing it in drag—was fucking hysterical. What better choice could there be for 'queen of the fairies'?

Helen snorted. Leo was her hero.

She chuckled at Will's lines and looked around the practice theater. Yasmine was sitting in the first row of seats, scrolling on her phone and looking bummed. Opportunity knocked, hard.

"Hey, girl," Helen whispered, plopping into the seat next to Yas.

Yas looked up and smiled. "Hi." She put down her phone.

"Will's gonna bring the house down. Am I right?"

Yas's smile got a little more genuine as she looked at the stage. "Yeah. He's really good."

Yas had been so downhearted lately. Helen wanted to put her arm around the back of Yas's chair, tug her close, and comfort her, preferably with Yas's head on her shoulder and her finger's stroking Yas's soft cheek. But, alas. Yas probably wouldn't appreciate that.

"What's wrong, hon?" Helen pouted out her lower lip.

Yas shrugged. "I thought Micah might come back to rehearsals, but he hasn't. I haven't seen him in, like, a week."

Micah.
Again
. It burned Helen's behind that not one, but
two
of her favorite people in the world were currently having their heads screwed with by that hippy Casanova. Leo had been all tweaked since the night Micah had called him. He'd have moments of weakness where he wanted to give in and call Micah back, or go out and track him down. Helen had done a lot of hand holding to convince Leo to stay strong, stick to his decision. She knew Leo. He had it all together on the outside, but his heart was as tender as a baby artichoke. He'd be target practice for Cupid's arrows if he let that straight boy into his head, much less into his pants.

As for Yasmine, the poor girl didn't even know Micah had tried to get with Leo.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave
…. Helen didn’t think it was her place to spill the beans. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer some friendly advice.

"Yas, you don't need that boy! He's in no way good enough for you. He should be following you around throwing roses at your feet."
I would be
.

"But I like him. Isn't he the cutest? And he's so perfect for me."

"See, that's where you're mistaken. You and Micah… you two are all wrong together, sweetie."

Yas looked surprised. Her pretty beige lips parted and—wow, were they soft and pink and moist inside. "But everyone
says
we're perfect
together. We even look alike—if you discount the race thing and… you know… the skirts. Though I wouldn't mind seeing Micah in a kilt." Yas giggled softly at her own joke.

"That's just it, Yas. You're too much alike! You both have water energy, all mellow. You need someone with fire energy or earth or… oil even. No that's salad dressing.”

Yas’s laugh sparkled.

“But you see my point! Water and water is good for a washing machine, not true love. You need friction to fuel passion."

Yasmine looked thoughtful. "Hmm. I never thought about it like that. Doesn't everyone always say it's good to have stuff in common?"

"
Stuff
, maybe, but that's different. What type of music do you like?"

"Indie, especially international or folk inspired. Like Kasai Allstars."

"I love that!" Helen said truthfully. One of her roommates was into it too. "See there? You and I have something in common, but our personalities are different. That's what I'm talking about."

Yas shrugged. She regarded Helen thoughtfully. Her eyes lingered on Helen’s lips maybe a second too long, making Helen go all hot and weak inside. "Maybe you have a point. But do you think Micah really does like me, and maybe he's just really busy right now? Or shy?"

Well, that was… absolutely no progress whatsoever. Helen refrained from rolling her eyes, even though, with the dark outlining she used, it was a spectacularly dramatic affect when she let herself rip. She was tempted to tell Yas about Micah's gay leanings, but no. She wasn’t going to be a creep no matter how much she liked Yas.

"Don't you think Micah is beautiful?" Yas sighed. "I love his hair."

"Yas, haven't you heard by now that I'm a lesbian? I'm not really the person to ask about men."

"Oh." Yas looked surprised. "No, I didn't know that. I'm sorry, Helen."

"Sorry that I'm a lesbian?"

Yas blushed and laughed. "No, sorry I didn't know. Why would I be sorry that you're a lesbian?"

"No reason. I'm fairly happy about it myself," Helen said brightly.

"But you're so pretty!" Yas reached out and touched Helen's hair. "I love your retro look, and the color of your hair. I wish I looked good in a bright color like red. It’s so stunning against your fair skin. And your makeup…." She touched a thumb to Helen's cheek, and Helen wanted to die right there. "It's so bold, but it works. You have a lovely face."

More. Please. Dear God.
Helen blew out a shaky breath. "Not all lezzies are butch, you know. A lot of us wear makeup."

"I didn't mean…." Yas looked uncomfortable. "I just meant, I bet you could date a lot of guys if you wanted to."

"Why would I want a hairy, smelly guy when there are women as beautiful as you walking the earth?" Helen quipped, playing it off as humor. But dear god, she meant every word.

"You're funny. And so confident." Yas looked rueful. "Men are a pain. Sometimes I wish I could be a lesbian."

Oh, honey, I'll teach you,
Helen thought. If only it were that easy. But the heart wants what the heart wants. No one had to remind Helen of that.

"Say, we have a lot of big scenes together in the show. Would you want to get together and run lines sometime?" Helen suggested, with no ulterior motive whatsoever.

"Yeah! Great idea. I have a two-hour open period every day from eleven to one. What about you?"

Helen arranged to meet Yas the next day, and all the while, a little voice was nagging in the back of her mind.
Only homo.

But that didn't count in this case, because she was just meeting Yas to rehearse. Right? She wasn't going to get her heart broken. She was in control. So what if she'd been crushing on Yasmine since the first time she saw her three years ago?

Then Yas looked right into Helen's eyes and smiled, soft and sexy.

Yup. Definitely time to buy stock in Ben & Jerry's and Kleenex.

*                               *                                    *

Leo

"Hey, Leo! You're famous, man."

Charlie called out to me from the common room as I was headed out the front door of my dorm. I paused with my hand on the push bar. "What's that?"

"Come see for yourself."

He was on his laptop, watching something. I went over to see what it was. He had a YouTube window open with a segment from the Harrisburg TV station, 21 News. There I was on camera being interviewed by that helmet-haired news lady. She'd been nice in person.

I belonged to several gay rights newsletters, and there were always protests in the area. I'd gotten five of us in a car to drive down to the Harrisburg courthouse for a protest last weekend that the Central PA LGBT group had set up.

I looked intense as I spoke into the microphone. "We're here to make people aware that this latest 'religious freedom' bill introduced by Representative Marshall is nothing but another attempt at discrimination. I'm all for freedom of religion when it's kept to religious institutions. But when you can walk to a restaurant downtown and there's a sign on the door that says 'We don't serve gays', that's pure bigotry."

I chuckled. I came across okay in the video, even if I did speak a little fast, trying to get my point across. I made a mental note to slow down and relax next time.

"Way to go." Charlie was straight, but he was definitely an ally. He held up his hand and I high-fived him. " I can't believe anyone thinks it's okay to tell an entire class of people they aren't welcome in a public place. It's like Nazi Germany, man."

I shook my head. I didn't get it either. "That's why we have to keep saying it's not acceptable. Loudly."

"Hell yeah. Hey, this video is getting quite a few hits and I saw it on Facebook. It won't get you in any trouble, will it?"

"No, man. I'm out to everyone I know." The only warning flag that came up was that I knew any old film or photo from my past might be dredged up if I ever did make it as an actor. But my activism was fair game as far as I was concerned. I wasn't ashamed of it. And while my parents weren't thrilled that I was gay, they didn't try to hide it from their friends.

"Cool." Charlie went back to browsing and I headed for the door.

I had no clue how badly that video was going to fuck me up.

At lunchtime I met Helen at the Hub. It was the first time I'd gone there in days, because I'd been avoiding Micah. I hadn't seen him since we'd had that phone call a week ago. He hadn't shown up at any more rehearsals. And from the perplexed-unhappy look Yas wore these days, I was guessing she hadn't seen him either. So much for his 'being friends' suggestion. Not that it made any sense for me to be friends with Micah. I wasn't that good at resisting temptation. But it was time to get on with my life and stop avoiding the hot spots on campus.

Besides, the way Micah had accepted my 'thanks but no thanks' and disappeared, he wasn't all that serious about wanting to see me. Right?

"Darling!" Helen called out when I entered the Hub. She minced over to me in enormous platform shoes, channeling Bette Midler. She gave me a double cheek kiss, which no doubt left red marks. Helen was fond of saying she wasn't just a lipstick lesbian; she was a kabuki lesbian. The girl liked her paints.

It was December 10th and the Hub was decked out for Christmas. There were tinsel swags in metallic red and gold looped everywhere, and paper lace snowflakes hung from the ceiling. The big snowman animatronic, ratty with wear, and affectionately named 'No Balls' by my fellow students, was set up inside the doorway, doing his slow-mo twerk. "Santa Baby" was playing over the speaker system.

"God, Christmas," I complained, though really, I didn't mind it. It made me feel that special brand of happiness that the start of the Christmas season always invokes. Or, at least, usually invokes.

"Scrooge," Helen said. "Since when don't you like the holidays?"

"Since now. After December 19th, I'll like it. At the moment, it just reminds me how little time we have left before the show."

Rehearsals were going well, but there was still so much work to do and so little time. Only nine days left. I must have groaned or otherwise betrayed my internal panic because Helen was quick to reassure me.

"Chill, Leo. You've got it under control. No one in the history of the arts has ever had an excel plan as detailed as yours." She patted my chest.

"Oh God," I groaned, because excel could only do so much. It couldn't account for things like the flu, earthquakes, dying grandmothers, or my actors breaking something or falling in love.

"It's okay," Helen reassured me, rubbing my arm. "You've got me, God help you. And if that weren't enough, the whole cast is ready to do anything you need us to do. Don't fear the No Balls."

I laughed and did feel a little better.

"Can we get food now?" Helen asked. "'Cause I'm in serious need of some chow. I need to maintain this voluptuous figure."

"Yeah. Let's do it." As we perused the various food options, I couldn't help but look around for Micah. He wasn't there. I was relieved or maybe relieved-slash-disappointed. Anyway, I ended up with a chicken Caesar salad and Helen got a veggie burger and chips. We settled by the window to eat.

"How's the costume search going?" Helen asked.

"Good. Susan and I picked out some great stuff. And since we're the last play of the year, we shouldn't have any problem getting to use it. Whether or not the stuff is clean is another matter. But the two shows on the 18th are both contemporary, so we should have a whole day to get anything laundered or sewn. Susan doesn't have any finals that day, so she'll be on it."

That last week of school in December was a busy time for everyone. Finals were the week of Dec 14th, and everyone in my Directing class was putting on a production that week, plus there was the regular campus winter play and, you know,
finals
. Everyone pretty much vanished that following weekend, going home for the holidays. But I'd found the perfect off-campus venue for that Saturday, the 19th, and all my actors had agreed to stay an extra day. There were advantages to being that late, in terms of getting people's attention and resources. But it was still a little nerve-racking.

"Great. And what about—"

My cell phone went off. I pulled it out of my jacket to check the screen. My heart rate kicked up a little when I saw who it was. "It's the guy from the venue. I'd better take this."

Helen just waved.
Of course
.

I got up and stepped away from the table. "Hi. Mr. Albertson?"

"Is this Leo Dayson?"

"Yes, sir. How are you?"

There was a disgruntled huff on the other end of the line. "Listen, Leo. I'm afraid I'm going to have to withdraw the use of our property for your play." His voice was cold and my stomach plummeted.

"Why?" It was the only word I could get out.

"Well, I'll be honest with you, Leo. You seemed like a decent kid at first, and we like to support the university students and everything. But my wife and I saw you on the news last night. I'm afraid we don't agree with your politics, or your lifestyle. If I'd have known…. Anyway. I'm sorry, but we have to cut off any association with you and your production."