The Year I Stopped Being Invisible - 35. Chapter 35

We got back to Polk at around 9:45, and -- with appropriate congratulations to the winners and condolences to the losers -- separated for the evening. Mr. McRory offered to let Kathy take home the 3rd place team sweepstakes trophy for the weekend, but she waved him off.

"I'm a grown-up," she said. "I don't need a consolation prize."

Shaking my head, I jumped into Linda's passenger seat and waited while she made out with Carter for a few minutes before joining me and pulling out of the parking lot.

"You two seem to be getting pretty serious," I said.

"Oh, pshaw," Linda laughed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Carter's fun, but I don't see any future with him."

"Ah," I said, for lack of anything better to say.

"What about you?" she asked. "Do you see a future with Taine?"

"The only future I want is with Taine," I replied. "But we've got a few things to work out."

"The hat thing," she said knowingly. "Do you think that's going to be a big problem?"

"I don't know."

I rolled my head back against the neck-rest, staring out her moon roof at the streetlamps whizzing by.

"I never realized," I said at last, "that he was going to take it as some massive putdown, like his feelings didn't matter to me. Of course they matter to me. They matter more than anything in the world to me. I was just being stupid, and now look..."

"Rick," Linda sighed. "I hate to tell you this, but...listen, let's stop into the Roaring Fifties."

She pulled the car into the ice-cream parlor's parking lot and I followed her inside.

It being 10:20 on a Saturday night, the joint was jumping with Polk students, and a few rowdy kids from Cleary Middle School who were allowed to stay out a little later than usual after seeing a movie at the mall.

We found a corner booth and I ordered a banana split for Linda and a butterscotch shake for myself. No sooner had we ordered than Linda took both of my hands in hers across the table and leaned in so that we could talk privately and quietly.

"What's going on?" I asked her, frowning.

"Rick, remember when I told you the two things that upset Taine the most about the hat thing?"

"Yes," I replied. "You said his hat was his only shield against the outside world, and that I had made him feel as if I didn't care about his feelings. And it kills me, Linda. It makes me really feel like an asshole."

"Oh, boy," she sighed.

"What? Just tell me what's on your mind, Linda. I need to know."

Although Linda had only been privy to my relationship with Taine for a short while, I could already feel that she was crucial to its success. She seemed to be able to see through our emotionally-charged, sometimes cloudy perceptions of each other, and our skittish over-reactions to every slight thing the other one did or said. It was almost as if she was becoming our interpreter, and it was becoming clear that -- at least at this stage of our relationship -- we needed one.

"Well, Rick," she said at last, "it's a little more complicated than just those two things. I have to tell you that I forgot to mention something he said at the end of our conversation. Everything was kind of hectic, and I was getting so mad at you for not seeing what was so clear to me...shit, I guess you two are so head over heels with each other that you don't see these things sometimes..."

"It's true," I admitted. "Whenever he's talking to me, it's like I'm blinded by his light. It's white and brilliant and glows all around him when I look at him, and sometimes I just lose his words in that brilliant, beautiful light, and...I sound like an idiot, don't I?"

"No." Linda rubbed my hands gently. "I know what you mean. Love is like that. But...Rick, you can't be like that with Taine. You have to listen to his words. He doesn't say much. You know that. But when he says things, they're not just filling space in the air like the way you and I sometimes talk. Every word is critical, and you've got to get them all."

"It's hard," I said. "When I look at him, I just go stupid. I go 'tharn' like that book about the rabbits."

"Watership Down," she said. "That movie gave me nightmares when I was thirteen. That scene with the fields of blood...who makes a movie like that for little kids?"

I smiled, nodding. "Anyway..."

"Yeah," Linda continued, regaining her train of thought. "Anyway. You have to pay close attention. I know it's hard with the light and the...what did you say...brilliance and glow and all that. But you have to. There are a lot of times when he's not talking. You can go tharn then. When he talks, you have to take it all in."

"Got it," I said, "but what did you not tell me? What did we both miss?"

"Oh, I didn't miss it, Rick. I just forgot to mention it." Linda dug into her banana split as soon as it arrived. "What I need to tell you is...well, it's hard to find a nice way to put it. Taine thinks you're ashamed to be seen with him."

"WHAT?" I nearly spit my butterscotch shake all over the table. "What the hell are you talking about? He's the person I most want to be seen with for the rest of my life! I sit with him at lunch every day...I fought for him in front of half the damn school...I invited him to the tournament so that he and I could be together...What makes you think that Taine believes I'm ashamed of him?"

"Think about what I said, Rick." Linda took a forkful of banana split, licked the fork clean and waved it slowly in the air as if drawing me a chart. "The hat is Taine's shield. The hat is part of Taine. It's his image to the world. You told him not to wear the hat. Thus, you don't accept the image he presents to the world. Thus, you are ashamed of the image he presents to the world. Thus, you are ashamed to be seen with him."

I just stared at her, dumbfounded.

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard," I said.

"Rick," Linda berated me, "you are a Drama kid. You deal in emotion and feelings and 'brilliant white lights'. You need to start thinking like a debater. You said on the bus that you were going to take Debate in spring. Act like you can follow a logical progression, for Pete's sake! It makes perfect sense. Maybe not to you, or me, because we spend most of our time socializing and performing and screaming 'Hey, world! Look at me!'...."

"Dancing around the maypole," I said sullenly, starting to get the picture.

"Yes, Rick. But Taine is different. Taine doesn't want to be on stage hamming it up for the crowd. Taine only takes that hat off for you, and now maybe me a little."

"I know, Linda."

"But you have to respect the image that he wants to present to the world. I know you love the 'real' Taine. But he doesn't, and that's what's important to him. This isn't about you, Rick, it's about loving Taine and making him feel comfortable and letting him know that you support him in every way."

I sucked noisily on my straw, considering what Linda was telling me. After a few moments, I nodded and looked across the table at her.

"Love him, love the hat," I said. "I get it."

"I don't think you really do, Rick," Linda persisted. "It's not really about the hat either. It's about you accepting Taine for what he is, who he is, and who he chooses to be at any given time. You and I wear different masks to feel comfortable with the world, too, only we call it acting, you know what I mean?"

I nodded, sipping my shake.

"Okay," she said. "How would you like it if I called you out in the middle of a performance and said, 'Hey, Rick, could you not act that part? Could you just say it like yourself?' Or what if I told you not to wear your Izods and designer jeans and TopSiders? 'Hey, Rick, what are you wearing those for? You didn't go to prep school! Take those off!' You wouldn't do it, and you would be angry and hurt at me for even suggesting it. Is any of this making sense to you?"

"Well, yeah," I said. "Once you put it that way. What you're trying to say is that everyone wears a lot of different faces, and loving someone means accepting that and -- if not loving every face equally -- at least respecting them and honoring the person you love when he chooses to wear them."

"Now you're getting it," Linda exclaimed happily, making me feel even more retarded than I already did. "Let's get you home to beddy-bye."

"I will smack you so hard," I laughed.

But the person I really wanted to smack was myself.

So hard.

As Linda drove me back home, she asked about Blaine and listened carefully as I tried to tell her the shorthand version of the story. Like myself, Linda found the whole 'detective' aspect to be rather inconsiderate, as it had scared the three of us for days, only enhancing our already sky-high paranoia.

"That really sucks," she said.

"I know. That's what I said to Sly. He admitted that he could have found a better way."

"To say the least!" Linda exclaimed. "What the hell, Rick?"

But when I explained about Blaine's acceptance of my relationship with Taine, and how he wanted to join Sly in taking a larger role in Taine's life, Linda seemed pleased.

"It's about time," she said. "Wait, no...Shit, Rick, I don't mean to sound nasty about it. Everyone has to deal with their own demons in their own ways...even Sly and Taine's brother. I'm glad he's going to try."

"Me too," I said, hugging her goodnight as she pulled up in front of my house.

I took my trophy and briefcase and headed inside the house through the back patio door, tiptoeing carefully past Rex, who had fallen asleep on the floor in front of the TV, a beer can by his side.

He almost made me scream in surprise when he spoke.

"How'd you do, Whod?" he asked.

I turned so that he could see the trophy.

"Mighty fine, mighty fine," he said, turning over on his side and closing his eyes again. "Good night, Whod."

"Night, Rex," I smiled, and walked quietly down the hallway to my room.