Adam (14 page)

“No shit. What rally?”

“Gay Marriage.”

“Sounds gay.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Why don't you go on a normal date?”

“I don't know . . . she's into this. She's, like, political. We'll probably go to a club in the city afterward. And then have sex. She, like . . . can't get enough of it.”
What the hell was he talking about?

“No shit. She got some friends?”

“No one that wants your ugly ass.”

“I'm bored of Sandy. Her pussy's weird. She's Asian. Hook me up with some New York girl.”

“Get the hell over here if you want a New York girl.”

“Cool. My parents want me to go with them to Hawaii in a few weeks. Boring. I'll tell them I wanna visit you instead.”

“Cool.”

“You're not making this shit up, are you?”

“No!”

“Good.”

They hung up. Adam felt nauseous. He needed to get a life
fast.

***

NO SECOND-CLASS CITIZENS!

Casey, June, and Agnes were kneeled on the living-room floor painting large cardboard signs taped to wooden rulers. It was the morning of the rally, and it was blazing hot. Casey was wearing a wife-beater over a black bra and short red seventies shorts. June was wearing her usual dark baggy T-shirt and jeans. Agnes was in khaki shorts and a pink T-shirt with the word
EQUALITY
written in marker across the front.

“Want to come?” Casey asked Adam.

“Sure, whatever,” said Adam. He wished she'd just assumed he was coming. He hated having to acknowledge he never had anything of his own to do. Calypso might be at the rally, and maybe she would recognize him. It was a total fucking long shot, but at least it was
something.
Brad would be here in less than three weeks, and Adam certainly wasn't going to amass a whole new life and identity hanging around the apartment. He had to go out if anything was ever going to happen. Plus he, like, supported gay marriage and stuff.

“What'd you do, raid Ethan's closet?” said Casey.

Adam blushed. He was wearing a white T-shirt, new Diesel jeans, and new Adidas sneakers. Pretty much Ethan's uniform.

“Whatever, this is just what guys wear,” he said. “What'd you do? Get off from your job at Hooters?”

Casey rolled her eyes.

Adam saw June chuckle to herself.

The four of them took the subway into the city. You could spot all the people on the train going to the rally. People carrying signs that read:
END HETEROSEXUAL PRIVILEGE
and
AGAINST GAY MARRIAGE? DON'T GET ONE!
Some of the signs Adam didn't understand, like one that read:
WHO DO YOU THINK DESIGNED YOUR WEDDING DRESS?
Those were the ones Casey and June pointed to and laughed hardest at. All the people carrying signs or who looked “queer” were extra friendly to one another and talked as if they'd known each other for years, even if they were just introducing themselves. Adam knew if he was alone, he wouldn't look like he was one of them, so he stood close and chatted with Casey and June, asserting himself as part of the group. The queer people were cheesy and “in your face,” but he liked the idea of being part of something. He supported gay marriage, supported his sister. He was an “ally,” as Casey had described him—an essential part. He'd much rather be that than one of the boring, solitary people on the train, reading their books or staring into space.

When they got out of the subway at Bryant Park, the streets were swarmed. People jumped around, waving their signs, chants of
“What do we want? EQUALITY! When do we want it? NOW!”
in a kind of musical round with
“No to Hate! No to Hate! We Will Not Dis-crim-i-nate!”

June was fired up. She started pumping her
EQUALITY
sign up and down in the air. “Equal Rights! Equal Rights!” she screamed.

“Equal Rights!” said Agnes. Then stopped to pick her nose and eat it.

Casey scanned the crowd, anxious. “I know Boy Casey's here with Schuyler and Jimmy, so if you see any of them, you have to tell me immediately. Also Hazel.”

“I don't even know what Hazel looks like,” said Adam.

“Cute curly hair,
really
pretty face, probably all black clothes. And she uses a cane.”

“She uses
a cane?
” said Adam.

“Yes!” said Casey, annoyed. “So if we see her, don't go using the word
lame
, OK?”

“What?”

“The word
lame
is offensive to differently abled people.”

“To what people?”

“
Differently abled.
People with disabilities.”

“That's retarded,” said Adam.

Casey groaned. “Adam! Just try not to embarrass me, OK?” She picked an abandoned
EQUALITY
sign off the ground and shoved it at him. “Come on, let's go.”

The sign Adam was carrying said
EQUALITY
on one side and
SMILE IF YOU ARE GAY
on the other. He discreetly dropped it and picked up a normal
EQUALITY
-on-both-sides sign.

Adam, Casey, June, and Agnes weaved their way into the thronging march, which had started thumping down the street. Adam could feel himself shrinking as the mass of people expanded around him.

They reached a police-manned intersection, and Adam noticed a clump of old, ugly people leering on the street corner, passing out pamphlets with a picture of Jesus. One of them held a sign that read:
AIDS ISN'T A DISEASE, IT'S A CURE
.

“AIDS affects everyone!” June shouted.

“Go home, creeps!” Casey yelled.

The clump began chanting in response.
“One Man! One Woman! One Man! One Woman!”
Adam saw a little girl mouthing along with them. She was holding a sign that read:
CHILDREN NEED A MOMMY AND A DADDY
, which Adam found especially dumb. Plenty of kids didn't have a mom and a dad, and it had nothing to do with gayness.

Adam thought about his own mom and dad. It was weird how he didn't really miss them. Their mom sent e-mails and called every Sunday, pestering them with questions and giving the latest news from “the homestead”—news that Adam and Casey couldn't care less about. Sometimes she'd put their dad on the phone, and it would be really awkward because no one would have anything to say. Their dad had never been all that interested in Adam or Casey. He wasn't a “deadbeat dad,” just more of a “bored dad.” The only thing Adam knew his dad really loved was golf. There were trophies all over the house.

Adam saw a gang of teenagers sitting on newspaper vending boxes, eating pizza, laughing and pointing at the people marching. He felt nervous. They were his age. He couldn't tell if they were for or against them.

“Show your tits for Gay Marriage!” one of them shouted at Casey. Adam thought Casey might go off on the guy, but she just looked embarrassed and marched faster.

“Shut up!” Adam yelled, except it wasn't really a yell, more like a cracked-voice stutter that no one but Adam seemed to hear.

“June, tell me if you see Boy Casey or Hazel,” said Casey.

June linked arms with Agnes. “Sure.”

God, it was hot. Adam's face was swathed in sweat and his eyes stung. When he looked ahead, the thousands of bodies blurred into a colorful pixelated sea. The chances of running into Calypso were pretty slim. He wasn't even sure what he would do if he did see her. They were so drunk when they'd talked at The Hole, a sober conversation seemed impossible:

“How's your tranny cock doing?”

“It's good, doing good . 
.
 .”

“EQUALITY!” shouted Casey next to him. “Say it, Adam!”

“Equality!” he said.

And then he saw her. Not Calypso. The redhead. His redhead. No fucking joke, all those other times he thought he saw her, he was on crack—
this was her.
She did exist. She was marching with a group and was wearing jean cutoffs and a gray tank top and had this unbelievably cute round face framed by red hair with bangs and the hugest smile. And if anyone ever did anything to make her stop smiling, Adam would ram his fist in their face. His heart was pounding. He took a step closer—a pack of fat hairy men shouting “Bears for Marriage!” barreled past, obscuring everything for thirty seconds.

She was gone. He had lost her.
Fuck
—but she was
here.
Adam felt like he might throw up.

“Hey, look at them, right on!” said June. She pointed to a pack of marchers all wearing white T-shirts with a picture of a crossed-out diamond ring printed on them and the words
I DON'T
. A few in the middle held up a banner that read:
BOYCOTT STRAIGHT MARRIAGE—WE WON'T MARRY UNTIL EVERYONE CAN!

“Yeah!” said Casey, pumping her fist at the group. Several members of the group pumped their fists back.

“I love that!” said June. “It's, like, seeing that means more than everything else.”

“I know,” said Casey. “You should go join them, Adam!”

“Uh, what?” said Adam.

“You would get married when your sister can't?” June cut in. She glared at him.

“I don't know,” said Adam.

“Wait, what?” said Casey. She stopped marching and looked at him.

“I don't know!” said Adam. He felt hot and sick.

“If that's how you feel, I don't think you should be here,” said Casey. She looked genuinely hurt. Unlike June, who seemed thrilled.

“So you just get to stroll on down the aisle with your
bashful bride
,” said June, “your family
so happy
, everyone full of
love
, thinking how
wonderful
this is, such a
beautiful rite of passage
, while your sister sits and watches with her ‘girlfriend' everyone likes to pretend doesn't exist.”

Adam wondered if in June's fantasy Casey's “girlfriend” was June.

“You're getting married?” said Agnes.

“OK, I wouldn't do it,” said Adam. “You're right, it's not fair . . .”

“You're just saying that,” said Casey.

“I'm not,” said Adam. “Really, I wouldn't . . .”

“I wanna get married, too, you know,” said Casey. She looked away and continued marching.

Would he get married?
Adam imagined himself, age twenty-nine. He was handsome, a . . . lawyer. He'd been with the redheaded girl for years, knew it was time to get married.

 

REDHEAD:
“Adam darling, why haven't you popped the question?”

ADAM:
“Well, you see, my sister . . .”

REDHEAD:
“I know, she's gay. And I support gay marriage. We met at the Gay Marriage Rally, remember? In fact . . . I'm gay.”

ADAM:
“I know . . . that's why I'm so confused right now . . .”

 

Adam's fantasy faded, unsure of where it was going. Would he get married if Casey couldn't? He supported gay marriage—he was here marching with this dumb-ass sign—but did he have to sacrifice getting married himself, too? Why should he give it up, just because she couldn't? It wasn't his fault it was illegal. But he didn't want to hurt Casey. Hopefully gay marriage would just be legal by the time he wanted to get married, so he wouldn't have to think about it.

“Hey, there's Boy Casey,” said June. There was a weird tone to her voice. “What's he doing?”

“Where?” said Casey. Her head spun, frantic.

June pointed to a small table set off to the side of the march. There was a banner over the table that read:
QUEERS AGAINST GAY MARRIAGE
. Boy Casey, Schuyler, Jimmy, and some others stood behind the table. Casey, June, Agnes, and Adam walked over.

“Uh, hey,” said Casey.

“You're marching?” said Boy Casey.

“Uh, yeah,” said Casey. “I thought you were, too . . .”

“I said I was going to the march,” said Boy Casey. “I thought you knew what was up.” Boy Casey pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes, “Man, it's fucking hot out. I hate it when it's too hot.”

A girl with spiky hair, holding a pamphlet, came up to Adam. “Hey, you want a copy of our statement? We're Queers Against Gay Marriage.”

“Uh, sure,” said Adam. He took the piece of paper and tried to scan it. It was too hot out; he couldn't read.

“I don't get it,” said June. “Why are you against gay marriage?”

Adam saw Casey glance nervously at June. He could tell Casey was quickly realizing there was something
not cool
about being for gay marriage. She didn't know what it was yet but did not want to be aligned with June. Casey stepped behind the table, next to Boy Casey.

“At least you guys have this banner for some shade,” said Casey. “And a cooler? Damn. Can I get a Coke?”

“We are against the prioritization of gay marriage in the queer political movement,” said the spiky-haired girl to June.

Adam looked down at his pamphlet again. It began: “We are against the prioritization of gay marriage in the queer political movement.”

The girl continued, “The gay marriage agenda is about assimilation. It's about granting rights to an exclusive, privileged group of people, while the more serious problems our other marginalized allies face are de-prioritized. We should be focused on keeping trans people safe, immigration reform, changing the prison system—not whether or not rich white gays get to have the wedding they always dreamed of.”

Adam looked at Casey. Her face was bright red.

“OK, I get that,” said June. “But gay marriage isn't just about weddings . . . I mean, whether we like it or not, marriage holds a lot of symbolic and economic weight.”