Paris

By M.D.K. Brando

I woke up on Monday morning and looked at my surroundings. I saw my book collection filled with comic books, manga, and other notable works like To Kill a Mockingbird, the works of C.S. Lewis, Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, and J.R.R. Tolkien. There were pictures of Martin Luther King Jr., Frederick Douglass, Robert F. Kennedy, Pope John Paul II, and Nelson Mandela placed on my wall. These men were my heroes and the people that best described my thinking. My video game collection. My longboard. And finally, a picture of Christ.

While I was listening to “In My Room” by the Beach Boys, I felt like I was levitating from my bed, and the angels, and the vibrant colors of the sky, from reds, blues, pinks, and greens. And I had wings of eagles and angels, and I stood in the middle of the sun, and I felt the air of the heavens and landed in the city of Paris. Then a mysterious figure came to me and said a quote from a famous philosopher, whose quote I couldn’t remember. But it was something that was about freedom, and being liberated from expectations and the systems that were bringing me down. And when this was achieved, it would mean that I was free. All I could remember was that the voice was feminine.

Then I heard my dad call out my name, “Michael.” Then I snapped back to reality and realized that I had to get ready to go to Catholic school and prepare for the day. I took a shower for about five to ten minutes. Brushed my teeth and wore the Catholic school uniform. To give context, my family was a middle-class African-American Catholic family living in Baltimore, Maryland. Now one can say that being both Black and Roman Catholic isn’t as ubiquitous for most African Americans who are Christian. This was mainly due to my mother’s influence as she was born into a devoted Catholic family whose uncle was a Catholic priest, and she was the most religious.

My father was born into a religious family, where his mother and older sister were devout Pentecostal Christians, and even my grandfather, Colin Heston II, was an elder at the Church of God in Christ. There were times when my aunt, God bless her soul, would invite my dad to church services, but he was somehow uninterested. But she would sometimes bring me over to the church. And even as someone who was not used to that type of church, I felt welcomed. So at college, he met my mother who was a Catholic. But the Catholic tenets appealed to him and made him convert. While not as religious as my mother, my dad was a practicing Catholic.

Job-wise, my father was a police officer highly respected in the department and had the potential of being the chief. My mother was a high school teacher. I had two brothers, one older and one younger. My older brother, Cooper, lived in California, and it was just me and my younger brother Daniel at home. He was on the spectrum too, but he was a very sociable kid and even had more friends than I do. However, my parents separated because things didn’t work out, and it left me in somewhat of a weird place religiously since the Catholic Church strongly opposed divorce. I can attest that my dad didn’t physically or emotionally abuse my mom or even my brothers. And that neither one cheated on the other. Daniel lived with my mother, and I lived with my dad. But two of the last gifts my mother gave me before she left were one of her rosary bracelets and her 1979 Sony Walkman.

The biggest thing that connected me with my mother was music. My Dad, one of the straightest arrows I have ever seen, didn’t give that much thought to music before he met my Mom. But afterward, he became a big-time music fan. And my mom gave diversity to his music taste. She also gave me vinyl albums that were her favorite albums. Including What’s Going On by Marvin Gaye, Revolver by The Beatles, Off the Wall by Michael Jackson, and especially Christopher Cross’s self-titled.

Although extroverted, I am also socially awkward and sheltered. When I was three years old, I was diagnosed with autism. I was basically “high-functioning” as some would say, but that still defeats the fact that I was socially awkward. And that I was afraid to look certain people in the eye.

My Dad offered me a ride to Saint Francis of Assisi school in his police car, but I said that I was going to take my longboard to school. While riding my longboard, a couple of songs played on my mixtape. One of them was “This Charming Man” by The Smiths, a song that I connected with emotionally, in terms of expressing myself. Then I saw this girl who was walking, and she caught my eye. If I wasn’t better, I could have crashed into something. Fortunately, I made it to the school in time.

The first person to greet me as a teacher at Saint Francis was a young woman named Sister Mary Grace. She was in her early twenties, so about ten or so years my senior. She wore the nun uniform, and I saw a bit of her hair. She was a dirty blonde. And maybe it was her height, but she seemed tall. Later on, she told me that she was only about five foot eight inches. But I hadn’t had my growth spurt yet.

“Hello, what is your name?” said Sister Mary Grace. For a brief second, I wasn’t paying attention. “What’s your name young man?” “Michael.” The whole time I didn’t directly look at her. I believe that this was mostly due to my first infatuation with her, whenever I saw her at the parish. But I also know that it wasn’t possible, as it was part of her vow to be celibate. And the age gap. But Sister Mary Grace always treated me with respect.

“It’s good to fully meet you, Michael. I often see you around the Parish. And you’re usually the first child to come up to Father Paul when it’s time to receive the Eucharist.” “I didn’t know who you were, but I knew that you were someone important. It’s good to meet you, Sister. Do you know where my first class will be?” “Well then, follow me, and I’ll take you there.”

When I entered the school for my 9:30 class, I realized that I was the first person in the classroom. After that, I took a seat. Then, around three minutes after I came into the room, a girl entered. She had dark brunette hair, wearing the Catholic uniform. However, she was wearing Converse shoes, and she wore a red rose on her. The best I could describe her was that she was like a Kate Bush lookalike. Then I realized that it was the girl I saw walking to the school. When she took her seat, it was next to me. I was kind of not in the mood to interact with people that I didn’t know who they were. But then she turned my way.

“Hey, my name is Betty, what’s yours?”And she offered me a handshake. “Michael. People who know me well call me Mickey.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mickey.” And I accepted the handshake. For a brief moment, we looked into each other’s eyes and I felt welcome. Little did I know that this was going to be a friendship that would be one that I would be forever grateful for. This would be the deepest emotional connection that I would have outside of my family.

“The same as you.” The first impressions of being quite intimidated by her were washed away with a level of comfort with her. She then asked me a couple of questions about what were my interests, and even how I was put in this school. When I asked her the same question, she talked about how she was raised in a close Irish Catholic Democrat family and they wanted her to have a Catholic education. And they were often a troublemaking kind. Not in terms of legal issues, but that they were accused of being communists.

Then my Parish priest, Father Paul, entered the room. “We have a new student today, Michael. He and his family are members and he is one of the altar boys. As I have preached many times, every human being carries the image of God and is worthy of dignity and respect. While Michael is one of the few African American students here, let alone the few African American families in our parish, I ask every one of you to treat him with that level of honor.” Then our history teacher entered the room, and I felt anxious. I realized that it was Sister Mary Grace. I felt another bit of the slightest comfort of having someone that I knew to be teaching me.

I was very aware of Father Paul’s more progressive tendencies. A good number of his sermons mentioned Catholic Social Teaching. He often talked about how he was involved with the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa. The Anti-War movement against Iraq, the occupations in the West Bank, and even decrying how inhumane the death penalty was. I wasn’t fully aware of how he often butted heads with the more conservative and traditionally minded Catholic leadership. For a middle-aged white guy, he was cool with me.

However, it was very clear that being of the few people of color, let alone Black students, in a vast majority white environment, would be a slight issue. While I would say that some days were very good, I was treated like I was a wounded lamb that needed to be defended by the shepherd by the teachers and even the students there. The only people who didn’t do this were Father Paul, Sister Mary Grace, and most of the girls.

I always felt comfortable being with them. They were very empathetic and we often had great conversations. I would also say that they were more interested in religious matters. We talked about our favorite music artists and acts, and what movies we liked and did not like. Even about our favorite saints and religious matters. I even learned some new tricks from them, particularly in music. I especially felt a connection with Betty. Something at the time I didn’t understand, but it was common through the state of puberty. She was a presence that I could be comfortable with, and she was the coolest person that I knew.

However, there were certain accusations against me by some of the boys that I was gay. This wasn’t due to me feeling any attraction to guys. But it was mainly because I wasn’t beholden to traditional masculine tendencies. It was because I was a baby face, and had some feminine look. While there were some of the guys that had some problems with me, once they got the chance to get to know me, we were either cool or very good friends. Also, Father Paul would make sure that the boys were behaving more bluntly, “treating each other with dignity and respect.”

The one main expectation was a kid named Adam, who would consistently bully me. From passive-aggressive comments like me being a geek liking comic books, manga, anime, and Lord of the Rings, to more overt bigotry, from accusing me of being effeminate, and a coward for not fighting back. For the most part, I just ignored him, and teachers would give him a warning not to bully me. But they fell on deaf ears.

Often, I turned the other cheek, but this one time he was calling names and very hurtful words. I tried to fight back, but then he knocked me out. Betty at first tried to intervene, but after unsuccessful attempts, went to Sister Mary Grace to get Father Paul to intervene on my behalf. When Adam tried to use something as a weapon against me, Father Paul stopped him.

When Father Paul found me on the ground, I was knocked out cold. There was a fear that I had died, and he had to carry me away to a local hospital, Sister Mary Grace had to call my parents. My dad was doing his best to drive to the place from doing some police work and my mom had to drive there. The only two people who were able to be there at the clear moment were Sister Mary Grace and of course Betty.

For the most part, I was unconscious for the operation and didn’t hear anything that was said to me as I was in a coma state. Almost like I was going through a purgatory state. The one level of sound that I could hear was a mumble of a prayer. Which was Sister Mary Grace praying the rosary, and Betty walking back and forth talking to my parents on the phone, or even just doing it in a panic.

After the operation, the doctor said to Sister Mary Grace, Betty, and my family about the things that I have experienced health-wise and the works. From what I was told, their reaction was both shock, relief, and sadness. Then one by one they visited my room. Sister Mary Grace held my hand and walked away. My father looked at me and then touched the top of my head. But both my mother and Betty had the same reaction of being grateful that I had survived by the grace of God and kissed me on the forehead.

When I woke up a couple of hours later, I was told that my eyesight had contracted Anisometropia and that my right eye had become worse in terms of sight than my left eye. And that it was required for me to wear contacts whenever I didn’t want to wear my prescription glasses. Then the doctor told me about the healthcare costs and medical debt that would come from it. Although there was enough for my parents to pay for it, there was discontentment that life-saving measures would cost that much. This was told to me later in my life, but my parents thanked Betty for being there.

The level of medical debt in my mind was almost indescribable as I didn’t feel like this was something that should be a burden to my parents and maybe the hospital or even potentially the government should pay for it.

While my parents were able to pay off the medical debt, there was a level of confusion about why they had to pay money for it. Slowly my discontentment started to grow.

A couple of weeks later, I returned to Saint Francis, and once again I was the first student to appear in the classroom. While other students looked from afar, Betty went into the room and stood from the side until I noticed her. After she said my name, I stood up and hugged her. Then she kissed me on the cheek and then took her seat. Then a boy named Arthur approached me and offered a handshake and an apology for not intervening in the bullying. Then everyone else came into the room, and either patted me on the back and the shoulder.

Then Father Paul entered the room with Sister Mary Grace, and while I have often seen Father Paul as a “Happy Warrior” and always in a positive mood, he looked very furious and even disappointed. He looked like someone who wasn’t to be messed with. Never in my life did I ever see him this angry. Father Paul was someone who was a well-tempered person. But this type of behavior he wouldn’t tolerate.

“I have been fully aware of the incidents perpetrated by some of the students who participated in the bullying of Michael. And to say that I am gravely disappointed over this constant harassment that has lasted for a couple of months. And I have no choice but to expel the following people.”

After the names were read, there was a sense of disbelief from the bullies and it looked like they were going to fight against Father Paul, so they left the room. The last one to leave was Adam, the main bully. He looked very resistant, and when he looked at Father Paul like he was going to talk back at him. But he almost had the fear of God put on him when he looked into his eyes. So he just left. “I will not have any tolerance for that kind of behavior. It’s not the embodiment of what I have taught in this school, and this is a warning if anyone believes in this kind of bigotry, you will be kicked out.

“And as for Michael who has experienced it, I on behalf of everyone in this school, offer my deepest regret that we didn’t act right away, and will attempt to make any reparation to make your experience in the school. And I hope that you will be more involved in what we have to offer.” While the whole talk by Father Paul happened, I didn’t look to my right or my left in the classroom. I didn’t want people to give me pity points or sympathies.

After accepting the apology, the day went on, and I would admit that things had gotten better. The grades were never an issue for me. But I would attest that I got along better with the guys. However, I wondered years later if that was a case of them having a “white savior” complex or if they were behaving due to genuine kindness and goodness.

Throughout this time, I got closer in friendship with Betty. An activity we did was riding our skateboards to some fast food restaurants, the movie theatre, school, and even church. I would count the countless times when Betty would even accompany me whenever I went to Mass, as I was the one person in my family where I essentially went every day. Outside of Sunday morning mass, we would sit together during Mass. Even sometimes, Betty would hold my hand. I wouldn’t even say that Betty was the most observant Catholic I knew, and I wouldn’t say that she was one of the most religious people I know. But she knew the devotion that I had for the Church, and what it meant to me.

Years passed and I was fourteen years old. I was under the assumption that I was going to be in that school until I graduated and went to college. But to my surprise, my Dad decided to pull me out of the Catholic school and put me back into a public school in the Baltimore area. Essentially a couple of minutes away. The school that I was going to go to was a predominantly Black school. There was a certain conversation around it, and while there were some reservations since I have been there for about a couple of years I felt like I was getting more comfortable and included in the school, and among my peers. After some argument over hand, I reluctantly agreed.

On my last day at school, I had my daily routine of waking up early around six o’clock, and playing a playlist of songs whenever I was getting ready for anything, from school, mass, parties, hangouts, and the sorts. However, I didn’t talk to my father because I still held a grudge. Like always, I was the first person to be in the classroom. But like other times, Father Paul came to the room with me.

I talked to him privately and pleaded with him to convince my father to change his mind. I argued that while it took a while for me to be comfortable in the school, I enjoyed the Catholic education that I was given, and even expanded upon my Catholic faith. Most importantly, I have gained a good number of friendships. However, Father Paul gave a response that surprised me. I was expecting him to say that the Catholic school was the place to be.

“An education from any place is worthy of attention, and as someone who was shaped by the public school system, I believe that it is ok for you to go from this type of private school to a public school environment.”

Then I said that the public school didn’t have the resources or even the funding and didn’t have as many teachers as we did, but he said a rebuttal. “Well, that’s more of a systemic reason about funding than the actual school itself. I would advise you to give it a chance and I am confident that as you have done at our school, you will excel. I promise you that this will be something that you will not regret, and will expand your experience.”

“I would like to make an announcement. This will be the last class Michael is with us, as he will be transferring to a public school that will be around the area. Although this is bittersweet, Michael will be with us as he is a member of our parish. We will keep him in our prayers and ask that both God will have His eye on him, as well as the Saints look after him, in this new phase in his life.”

Before I left the school, Sister Mary Grace walked with me from the classroom, and we had a brief conversation that spanned about what I wanted to do for my future, what I wanted to do for a job, and even the Catholic faith. Then she hugged me, and I began to cry. I was crying about how this was the end of my time here.

“Don’t cry, Michael. God willing that you make the world a better tomorrow and you live up to your highest potential.”

Before I left, Betty gave me a paper. After asking what it was about, she responded. “It’s my number, we can talk whenever you want to. It has been a blessing to have been classmates with you in History, Math, and Science. I hope that despite us going to different schools, we can maintain our friendship and make it grow like a garden.” Then she kissed me on the cheek. Afterward, I left for home and started to prepare for the summer before going to high school.

After a summer filled with mostly staying at home and having some visits from a couple of my friends, I was getting ready for the fall semester and my freshman year of high school. However, one thing that did happen was a slight sexual awakening. I wouldn’t say that it was full because I never acted upon those feelings, as it was an internal struggle between trying to be faithful to my Catholic faith and being in touch with my sexuality. Due to this struggle, I felt certain feelings about Betty that I hadn’t thought of before. I would even say that it indirectly started whenever we hung around during the summer. They were often cordial and positive feelings. But these feelings were much stronger and more passionate than I could ever imagine. They were both romantic and even sexual.

Because of the Catholic faith, abstinence was required. And that didn’t say anything about if you were a part of the Queer community. They would treat you like you were a leper. I mainly tried to experience abstinence as it was frowned upon for anyone to participate in any sexual activity before marriage, which was between a man and a woman. So even if I wasn’t Queer or whatnot, I still struggled to be comfortable with my sexuality.

I took the basic classes that I wanted to take like history, mathematics, science, and sex education. The history teacher was a Black gay man named Kareem. He was on the tall side. His parents were Baptists. When he came out of the closet, he was shunned by his father. However, until her passing, his mother accepted him and kept in contact.

He often railed against the common view of Martin Luther King Jr. like he was a commodified and safe Santa Claus figure, but oftentimes staunchly militant, and radical. He also mentioned that like everyone else, King was a human being and was complicated and couldn’t be easily put in a box. And even talked about how he was a socialist, particularly of the democratic variety. He also said that the dichotomy between him and Malcolm X was often overstated as they both showed parts where they were both peaceful and radical. I was still a bit conservative in my politics and was hesitant to launch into the view of socialism. But it was a perspective that I respected that he held. However, little did I know, this was a seed that transformed me into the person I am today.

I was told to read The Autobiography of Malcolm X, which was one of the most hailed books of all time and tackles the life of the famed civil rights leader. Along with that, he commended me for watching the movie “Malcolm X” starring Denzel Washington, who was my father’s favorite actor. And to say that it was the movie that changed my life would be a massive understatement. From that experience of both watching the movie and reading the book, I developed a more in-depth conception of my Black identity and a deeper understanding of being myself.

This was more than enough for me to drop my belief that this school was lesser than the Catholic school that I had for a couple of years. And my current school, as a public school, was as much deserving of funding as the Catholic school, or even more so.

Not much stuff that I could gather from math and biology because they were my weakest classes, particularly math. I remember when I was younger, I felt like I was good at math. But I had massive trouble doing algebra as it was very hard on my mind. And it was basically due to me being on the spectrum. However, my math teacher recommended that I be given a tutor who would help me out with the subject matter. It took many hours and had plenty of butting of heads, and I became better and better at math.

Probably my favorite class for me to take was sex education because it was an expansion of my knowledge. And as someone who was essentially raised to be sexually repressed and was taught that expressing any sense of sexuality was wrong. The teacher was Miss Diane. She did a great job of explaining to people like me who weren’t in touch with their sexuality. We were taught about safe sex, contraceptives, and even masturbation. Which was something that was barred in the Catholic Church and were topics that were not discussed.

Due to being a very curious person, there were a couple of times when I experimented with myself. When it happened, I felt like I was in a different state of mind. The biggest miracle was that I was never caught and was something that I never had a talk about with my dad. Because I believed that he would punish me. Whenever I went to confession, I just used certain words to say that. But Father Paul never minded and just did his duties as a priest. However, I didn’t feel that what I did was a personal or even mortal sin.

I became friends with a couple of fellow students, and one of them was a kid named James who was around the same age as I was. James was the clear opposite of me. He was an introvert. Loved Broadway musicals. He was in the performing arts club in the school, and they were always looking for people to join it, namely the guys. In particular, he encouraged me to be involved in the performing arts. Since I needed to expand my surroundings and quite frankly had nothing to lose, I accepted the offer and disregarded any objection to doing it.

My performing arts teacher was named Mister Cedric. He was another black man on the taller side. He had a skinny build. He often talked about the importance of the Harlem Renaissance and the city of Paris in the development of the arts for Black people. And even more, he talked about his admiration of hero, James Baldwin.

For my freshman and sophomore years, I was more in the background actors, but I was able to make the roles into my own. The shows that we did beforehand were smaller like one Act shows. I was often highly praised by audience members for my performance who said that I should be in a major role. In Junior Year, we did Into the Woods, and I played Prince Charming, and I was fortunate enough to play along with James. This was his senior year, and he wanted to play a supporting character because he had been accustomed to playing one of the main roles. I was highly praised for my performance of “Agony” and the character in general. So my senior year, the musical was going to be Company, and there was excitement over this. And I was mostly indifferent as it was just another musical that we would perform.

When I told Betty about the potential of doing the musical, Company, she couldn’t contain her excitement. She told me that it was one of the best works of Stephen Sondheim and that for all her time listening to the album and seeing the musical, she said that I would make a great Robert. Asking why, she said, “There are certain character traits that Robert has that reminded me of you.” So under her recommendation, I decided to go to the auditions and try to go for whatever role I could with the main goal of getting Robert.

The recommended song for anyone who was going to audition for the role of Robert was “Marry Me A Little” and I did my best which I felt wasn’t good enough to be Robert. But to my surprise, the casting directors were very impressed or even wowed by my audition.

A couple of days later the callbacks were released. Everyone looked at the list when it was first revealed, but I was the one who saw it last. Despite being the last one to see it before school was closed, it wasn’t spoiled by anyone about what role I got cast. So I looked at the list, and I was cast as the main character of Robert. Afterward, I called my parents, my brothers, and Father Paul among others, that I got cast as the main character of the musical, and was given nothing but being proud of me.

There were a couple of people that I wanted to be there for my school’s performance of Company. That was Father Paul, my parents, my brothers, and especially my best friend, Betty. My Dad wasn’t interested in the arts in general outside of a few movies and was mostly indifferent about my casting. But everyone else was ecstatic about my casting as Robert. Because of his sense of my potential, Mister Cedric gave me a bunch of James Baldwin’s work and also listened to the Company soundtrack. And I was very strong in my work ethic.

Throughout the school year, I juggled school tasks, church duties, and the creative arts. The rehearsals were usually orderly, but the director was known to have a good time. He would sometimes do impressions of the actors whenever we did something and whatnot. Despite him being the director, he always acted like a servant, instead of a dictator. Whenever one of the actors, or even I, messed up a line or a choreography, he never lost his temper. He always acted with patience.

The workload was bound to weigh heavily on me and my mental stage. In the final weeks of rehearsals of the show, I felt a bit emotionally detached from people, particularly my classmates, and even almost had a couple of mental breakdowns. Whenever those events happened, my director was the biggest help to me. He confessed that he has ADHD and OCD since he was diagnosed when he was around six years old. He could tell that I was on the spectrum, as he mentioned that his uncle and his older sister were autistic. So that built in him a level of empathy and understanding of me and my condition. And he didn’t act like my autism was something that I shouldn’t be ashamed of but instead a part of who I was as a person.

Even worse, throughout Tech Week, I was a bit sick as I was studying for exams and staying up too late. I was recommended by my director to not perform in the rehearsals and just wait until the shows that would happen on the weekend. However, I wanted to do my part. But the director said that I could stay, but advised me to not use my voice, until the shows that happened during the week.

That week, we had three performances between Friday night and Saturday (one in the afternoon and one in the evening.) Beforehand, I took a couple of good nights’ rest after going to tech week, and while I wasn’t a hundred percent health-wise, I was ready to perform. As usual, I was the first person to arrive at the theater outside of Mister Cedric. We mostly sat in silence, but he gave me a handshake and said to me that he believed that I could do it.

The biggest nerves weren’t doing Marry Me A Little or even Being Alive. But the first song which was the title song was the big sequence with almost everyone in the cast there, and having to multi-task with both singing and dancing. When I heard “Bobby,” I felt like the Bat signal was lit up and I had to be ready in the middle. When the light was pointed at me when I started singing, I felt like I was Superman and that the whole theater was empty, and I was singing to myself. After the first song, the crowd went electric and the first night was a success. My mom was at the first performance and she was super proud of me.

Then I got a call beforehand on Saturday from Betty. She said that she would attend at the Saturday night show. That news gave me the juice to give everything I had in my final performance as Robert. And throughout the day, I was practicing my lines. In part, I was a bit nervous, but I had great expectations for the performance.

When I performed “Marry Me a Little” and “Being Alive” I almost directly sang to Betty. But I didn’t know it then because I didn’t feel that much outside of emotional love. It wasn’t something that I felt comfortable saying directly to her, but something that I could do in a song. While singing near the end of each song, I felt the emotional weight of each song. At the end of “Marry Me a Little,” I cried a single tear and felt embarrassed. When “Being Alive” was being done, near the end, I uncontrollably cried and that won the audience over. When the song was over, there was thunderous applause for my performance.

I went to my seat in the boys’ dressing room. And the guys were praising me, circled me and applauded. After they all left, I saw a collection of roses in my place, with a couple of cards on my way.

One card was from Father Paul. It was a yellow card with a front with blue marker signs saying my name. “Dear Michael. Words can’t express how proud I have been to see you perform in acting, especially in this recent performance of one of the best Sondheim works.” At the end of the card, he wrote his signature and said his favorite quote from Saint Padre Pio. “Serve the Lord with Laughter.” When I read the card, a small smile was on my face.

The second was from my dad, who said, “Proud of you, Michael.” A third one was from my mother. A fourth one was from Mister Cedric. A fifth and sixth ones were from my two brothers, and I was laughing at some of the comments that Daniel and Cooper said to me. Saying how much they were proud of me for playing Bobby and I personified the role of Bobby, and that it was a blessing to have taught me to act. The final one was from Betty. And I was starstruck.

“Dear Mickey. I know how much I love musicals and the arts. So when you told me that you were going to play Bobby, I was over the moon and expected you to do a good job. Needless to say, you exceeded expectations in this role. You were incredible as Robert and I’m so proud of you.”

Then I heard my full name. When I turned around, I saw Betty. She wore a beautiful blue dress and black leggings with white shoes like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. She had her brunette hair in a braid on her left side, with bright red lipstick, and wearing a heart necklace. “I know that this isn’t expedient of me to look like you. But I had to show up for my best friend.” I was greatly appreciative and we took a couple of pictures together.

After embracing me, she asked a question. “Can I kiss you?” Honestly, time stood still. I thought about asking her out to both prom and even a relationship. However, I was scared to ask her to be my girlfriend because I was extremely self-conscious about the possibility of being in a relationship with a white girl.

I was completely shocked by the question but consented. After kissing for about a minute or so, I stared into Betty’s eyes and then I looked at the mirror. Massive bouts of red lipstick on my lips and my cheek. Of course, Betty being a jokester as long as I have known her, kissed me over and over like a grandmother to her grandson. I said that it was fortunate that it was the last performance as I had to clean up all the kisses. But since it was after the last performance, it was fine.

With prom happening a couple of weeks later, I was the most popular kid in high school. And people started to take notice of me. But I decided to go to prom by myself. Because there wasn’t anyone interested in me as their prom date, and there wasn’t anyone that I felt that much of a romantic and even an emotional connection with. That morning of prom night, all I had in mind was a black suit jacket, black dress pants, and a black bow tie. My expectations for my senior prom were super low because I had gone to prom before, and I thought it would be typical and ordinary.

Then I heard a knock on the door. When I asked who it was, Dad just said, “Go to the door.” When I opened the door, it was Betty. She was wearing a Pink Floyd shirt with blue jeans and Nike Blazers. I was surprised for two reasons. One, I didn’t expect her to come to my house and second, I was shocked that she knew when my prom was. When I asked why she came to my house, she said, “Well, your parents said that they didn’t want you to be alone at your senior prom, and they wanted me to accompany you.” She reasoned that my parents did not want me to be alone at prom; my dad wanted her to be my prom date because he knew that we were best friends. “I’m going to be your everything.”

After taking a shower, Betty sat me down and did my hair. She put a part on my hair on the left side while maintaining my curly afro-type hair. Wondering how she knew how to do this type of hair, she mentioned that she would sometimes do her adopted siblings’ hair. Which in turn made her well-prepared to do with my hair. I was shocked at how well she did it. Even when my mother checked up on us, she gave a compliment to me. Which I didn’t expect.

“Did you realize that you had longer hair? Because I think you should have your hair out.” I never really thought about growing out my hair. But it was something that I had to keep in mind.

After finishing my hair, Betty picked out a red tuxedo, a black bow tie, a white shirt, and black dress pants. Along with some black with white dress shoes. When I went down the stairs, Betty was in her blue dress. I was starstruck. I couldn’t believe the amount of beauty that I was beholding with my eyes. I always thought that Betty was beautiful, and I felt a feeling of something that I didn’t feel in a minute or even usually. I felt butterflies.

“Well, look at this charming man.” I blushed when she said that. To which I responded, “You look so beautiful.”

“I know that I have been told that a good number of times in my life, but I appreciate it coming from you,” she said.

I then had a picture with my brothers and my parents. And then I took a picture with Betty. I would say that it was the first time I felt like I was the same height as her. Before we left, my parents said that they were going out for the rest of the week, and my dad entrusted me to hold it down. And then Betty said, “Don’t worry, Mister Heston. We’re gonna have a good time and Mickey will make sure that everything will be alright.”

The car ride to prom was a riot. Since I figured that we were running late, Betty did her best to drive to the prom. The songs played during the car ride were “25 or 6 to 4” by Chicago, “Last Train to London” by Electric Light Orchestra, “Back in the USSR” by the Beatles, “Baby Be Mine” by Michael Jackson, “Ride like the Wind” by Christopher Cross and the biggest one was “Band on the Run” by Wings. The funniest thing was Betty was singing and tempting me to sing along with her. But I would attest the most amazing part was that we made it just in time.

When we arrived at the prom, there was a sense of awe when I was walking with Betty. Maybe it was because I was the sole person to have a prom date who wasn’t Black. But to my surprise, because I felt like I was going to be judged about having Betty as my prom date, no one cared that much. Some of the Black girls were cool with Betty and wanted her to be in their pictures and even more, their friend.

The music was diverse of old school and modern stuff. Stuff like The Beatles, Michael Jackson, Lady Gaga, Electric Light Orchestra, Taylor Swift and Beyonce. Even a couple of songs that were played on the ride were played at prom. This was due to Betty helping with the playlist. And something that everyone attested was that I was someone who knew how to have a good time.

When Prom King and Queen were being rewarded, I was in a state of ecstasy and this was to the song “Ain’t it Fun” by Paramore. Something that I couldn’t explain. It was like a dream sequence from one of those movie musicals. Everything that was around me didn’t compare. Then someone came to me and said, “Michael, you and Betty are crowned Prom King and Prom Queen.” Shocked, Betty grabbed me by the hand and got our reward.

As we were on our way home, Betty threw a curveball. “You know what, I don’t want to go home just yet. Let’s go get something to eat.” She asked me if I wanted to go to some local pizza place that was still open, and I responded by going to McDonalds. “Sounds like a good idea, let’s ride there.”

While driving to a local McDonald’s, we talked about the night we just had. I even admitted to Betty that this was the best night of my life. Then she said, “Well, it’s about to get even better, Mick.” Seeing that the worker was overworked and it was only the two of us, Betty gave extra money to the workers. Then I overheard Betty talk about workers forming a union. Although one of the workers was very resistant to it, and even accused her of being a communist.

But the thing that I realized about her is that she’s fearless. She didn’t back down from her talking points, and it even gained the respect of some of the workers. They even told her behind the manager’s back that they said that a potential workers co-opt sounds like something that they would be interested in.

When I asked why she gave extra, Betty explained this. “I remember my dad telling stories about my grandfather. He was a factory worker, and he was talking about how the boss was a dickhead. It is very apparent that these workers aren’t given a living wage, and they aren’t unionized. So I’m following in the footsteps of my grandfather’s work of being involved in labor. It wasn’t something that started automatically.”

“I used to be more conservative in my viewpoint. Mainly to be against my parents. They have always been left-leaning. They have been labor activists and supportive of social justice movements like the feminist groups and anti-war movements. They would try to tell me about those stances and how they were important to them. But I blew them off.

“I was someone who considered herself a freethinker, and I was one of those ‘socially liberal, fiscally conservative’ mythical figures that people claim to exist. What changed my viewpoint is that I have a politically active friend. And he was a staunch democratic socialist. We would often have debated about capitalism and sorts. It’s the reason why I’m very good at debates.

“Afterwards, she gave me a couple of books to read. Like Capital and the Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx, among other leftist works. So bit by bit, I took a leap of faith, and I accepted that truth. When I fully dived into the socialist pool, my parents were open to my ideas, and they even adopted them. Like my grandfather, the issue I mostly looked at was labor, as it’s a big topic in my family, and when I did my research about the topic of workplace democracy and worker coops, I believed it was a good idea that would level the playing field, and make sure that we’re all equal at work.”

This shocked me that Betty made those comments because I never thought of her as a political person. But then she told me that everyone is a political person whether they directly choose so or not. When I asked her if she had any ideological or political allegiances, Betty was dancing around it. She then admitted that she was a democratic socialist with some anarchist tendencies. “It’s due to me hating authority,” she chuckled. But then I asked her to be serious. Before she answered, she took her time eating some of the food and drinking her Hi-C Orange. At first, I was a bit annoyed. But because she was joking around, it started to make me laugh.

“Well, although Marx has a lot of good things to say, I wasn’t particularly convinced about us as a country getting to communism. But I was struck by a quote I heard about Martin Luther King Jr. about how capitalism fails to realize that life is social, while communism fails to realize that life is personal.”

Betty asked me about my political beliefs and ideology. And I said that I was a moderate. In some views, I was more conservative like abortion and traditional values, some views I was more liberal or progressive like women’s rights, social safety net and even becoming open to people in the LGBTQ+ community. But on socialism, I was giving my doubts. “Why don’t you give socialism a chance? I think that of all of them, democratic socialism would be right for you,” she said.

I said that there were countries that attempted it, and it didn’t work in other countries and gave the same talking points I have heard against it. I even admitted that communism doesn’t sound half as evil as it sounds, and Betty responded about how the reason why, despite not believing it would be an ultimate end goal, she would be ok with it, especially as her grandfather used to be a communist.

“Look, I was skeptical about socialism and all that. I would scoff at any form of supporting it. But when I did my research and read theory, I saw that it made sense,” then I responded. “Well, although I wouldn’t agree with your perspective, I would say that when I had a history teacher who talked about how Martin Luther King Jr. was a radical thinker who supported democratic socialism, it wasn’t something that I threw off completely.” Betty responded with a hopeful “I’m glad that you got an open mind.”

After dinner, we went home. The song selections were slower and more calming like “Does Anyone Really Know What Time It Is” by Chicago, “Sailing” by Christopher Cross, and “Love Ballad” by LTD. While driving, Betty held my hand with her right hand, while I was doing the night-time version of daydreaming. The street lights lit up with blue colors. When we entered home, we realized that my parents were nowhere to be found. I was later told that they were having a date night and had reconciled their relationship and they were gone for the rest of the week.

Betty suggested that we go to my room. She looked around my room and saw my books and video game collection and all that. She even complimented me on my stuff. “I love some of your stuff here, especially your comic book collection.” I was shocked that Betty was into comic books. “I would say that I’m more of a Marvel gal tho. But I respect your DC collection. “What would say is your favorite in your collection?” she asked. “I would say that Watchmen by Alan Moore is my pride and joy. It was the first one that I got for myself,” I said.

When she saw my copy of Watchmen, Betty asked this. “Who’s your favorite character from Watchmen?” I responded with Nite Owl, as I couldn’t fully relate to Rorschach, Ozymandias, or Doctor Manhattan. And don’t get me started about the Comedian. I despised that character. “My favorite was Ozymandias because he’s a complicated character, and he raised interesting points.”

After she said Betty pulled out a blunt and lit it up. “Is that weed?” I asked. “The one and only,” Betty responded. As Betty was walking around my house, l was worried that the smell would infect the whole house, so I had to tell Betty to ease up. All the while, Betty was asking why she should stop smoking weed. And to be honest, it was because I was afraid that my parents would kill me over smoking some weed.

“Look, Mick. Has your dad ever acted out of anger against you?” she asked. “No,” I said. “Then don’t worry about it,” Betty responded. “I can clean up the air and all that. I understand your concern and it is your house, but I have done this before.”

“If I may, many times have you smoked weed? And, like, do you smoke it every day?” I asked. In my mind, I was kinda curious about marijuana. I heard people talk about it. I knew my mother wasn’t a big fan of it. However, my dad was mostly indifferent about it. Even as a police officer, he thought that the war on drugs was wrong.

“Yup. I smoke it every so often. It’s only when I’m hanging out with people or just to calm my nerves.” “Does that make you wanna smoke cocaine or heroin? It’s a gateway drug,” I said.

“Don’t believe the rumors,” Betty said. “I have smoked weed a couple of times and have never gotten the urge to smoke that other stuff. Trust me, I have seen Pulp Fiction. I never wanted to mess with that and have a similar reaction to Uma Thurman’s character.”

This went over my head as I have never seen Pulp Fiction. But Betty gave me the blunt. I was scared and didn’t know what to expect. But I would attest that smoking weed was like experiencing an elevated sight. I was almost blacking out and having dream-like sequences. I know that this kind of experience would only be done through acid trips. But I didn’t think Betty put acid in the weed.

Then I heard Betty’s voice saying my name a couple of times until I was given her whole attention. “Do you like it?” When Betty asked the question, I wasn’t even paying attention. I was in a daze, and there was a song that was playing in my head. It was “Easy” by the Commodores. Like, I felt relaxed and at ease. It also helped that I was around my best friend. “Michael…Do you like it?”

Despite me not being wholly there, I said yes. I felt a religious experience when I smoked it, and I felt like things were getting clear. I could say that I saw my future, and it was kinda too cool to describe to her. “Ok Mickey, don’t be selfish, share the weed around.” Before I gave it back, I thanked Betty. “No problem sweetheart. It’s my pleasure.”

After smoking some weed and laughing at jokes we didn’t even say, Betty suggested to me that we go inside of my home. And she said it with the straightest look that I have ever seen her. “Take off your glasses.” “Really?” Yes, I wanna see you without your glasses.” I rejected that request as I didn’t want her to see me at a place where I didn’t want to see.

“Betty, you know that I need them.” After some teasing and joking around, I consented. She took off my glasses anyway and looked straight into my eyes. I was ashamed because of my poor eyesight from my right eye and shied away, but she lifted my face and looked me straight in the face. There was a level of self-consciousness about the scar that I still had since my incident almost six years ago.

However, I didn’t feel condemnation or judgment from her eyes. She looked with curiosity and then met with a warm smile. “Let me ask you a question?” she said. “Ok, shoot,” I said. After a brief staring contest and a couple of moments of silence, I won because I didn’t blink. I also believed that Betty blinked on purpose, especially when she started to laugh after losing. “You lost on purpose,” I said. Then Betty snarkily responded with, “If you say so, Mick,” I responded. “But it’s true. I didn’t try that hard.” To which, Betty said, “You remember saying you’re very good at staring contests. So I wanted to put that to the test. And you were correct in that theory.”

Then I asked in confusion. “But does that have to do with anything?” To which Betty responded. “It doesn’t matter on that. But I have a confession to make to you.” I returned, “Ok, what is that.” After a brief pause, Betty gave me a warm smile and said to me, “You have such beautiful brown eyes and you’re a handsome fellow.” This shocked me. “You don’t mind that my eyes aren’t the best? Because you don’t have to flatter me,” I said. She then put her hand on my face.“I don’t care about that, Mick. I stand by what I said. You’re a charming young man, and anyone is fortunate to be around you. You’re really beautiful.”

I blushed when she said that. Afterward, Betty told me this: “I know that you’re a very humble person and you’re somewhat shy. But you know that you’re a looker.” To which I said, “You’re just flattering me.” Betty gave a rebuttal. “Broski, do you have that low of self-confidence? Like I know your parents a good enough deal and like they didn’t tell you self-deprecation is equal to humility. You’re really cute, and I could eat you up.” And she bear-hugged me and was kissing me on the cheek.

After we got back up, I was smiling from ear to ear and blushing very hard. “Don’t think that I didn’t see you blush. I loved how you blushed,” I said. Then Betty looked at me in a way she hadn’t before. She always gave me warm smiles. But this was a look of longing. She said, “You’re such a sweetheart, my best friend and the love of my life. I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

Then Betty kissed me and then asked if she could undress me. I consented, and before we did anything, Betty then gave me a condom to use. “Just to be safe. I’m not in a position to have kids. Well, not yet anyway.” I later undressed her and we started to make out and then have sex. Since it was my first time, I asked a lot of questions, mainly about whether a certain position was comfortable for her to do. But she wasn’t bothered by them.

At first, Betty was on top of me and started to kiss me on the neck and it was my vulnerable spot. Then I started to softly moan. “I didn’t know that you were like that. I kinda like it.”

“Can I be on top of you?” “Yeah.” She kept calling me “baby boy” as a sign that I was in safe hands with her. Then I started to kiss her neck, and she started to moan, “Oh my god,” I said. I was almost freaked out when she was moaning. I almost thought that I was hurting her. And I was also wondering if I was going too fast or too slow and I was losing her interest.

“Do you like that?” I asked.

“Yes, I do. I think you’re doing a good job of turning me on.”

“Really?”

“Don’t push your buttons, Mick.”

“But I want to make sure that you’re having a good time with this because I don’t want to bore you. And wish that you would be doing something.”

“I know you’re very considerate and I’m very happy, but you worry a lot. This isn’t my first time,” she said. This is when Betty started to chuckle, which showed me that I needed to calm down.

“But in all seriousness, I love it. Keep going,” she said.

“Ok, am I going too fast or too slow?”

“You’re doing just fine. Just keep going. Don’t worry about trying to rock my world. Just love me the way that you want to love me.” She then sucked on my neck and said some stuff to me to turn me on. And talking about stuff that she wanted me to do to her.

Then she took my hand and put it in her vagina and she guided my hand. And she was moaning my name. After a couple more minutes of doing different positions, we reached an orgasm. After it was done, I looked at Betty. It felt like it was in slow motion and we were levitating. The common factor between us was that we breathed slowly. She softly smiled at me, and I let my guard down and smiled back. I kissed her and went to her left side.

Betty looked at me as we lay for a couple of minutes of silence. “Did you enjoy it?” she asked. “I think so,” I said. Then I started to laugh. “I think that I liked it.”

“Do you ever wanna do it again?” she asked.

“Yeah, whenever you want to.”

“Was that your first time having sex?” I wanted to joke around about how I had done this a couple of times with many girls during high school. But I also knew that I would have major Catholic guilt if I lied to Betty. So I had to tell the truth. And I silently nodded my head. “It’s ok that this was your first, Michael. No one should shame you for that. I have known my parents waited until they were married. However, when I came out to them that I had sex for the first time last year, they were gracious to me. Also, they were big into sex education and made sure that their daughter was protected.”

“I knew that you had feelings for me. I don’t think that there’s any force in the universe who didn’t know.” For a moment, time almost stood still. Then Betty continued what she said. “And I had the same feelings for you. I knew that you had some trouble expressing your feelings in words. And I knew since a couple of times when we were younger that you had a crush on me. Whenever I’m around you, I would also attest that I felt those feelings. It also didn’t help that we were both experiencing puberty. But I wanted your first time to be special and be with someone you love.”

“I was kinda hoping that my first time would be with you,” I said. “I was just waiting if we ever had a moment together. And I felt like my wish was granted. Maybe it was the weed, and probably the aftermath of having sex for the first time, but I felt exhausted. But this was something that would be common as it is very taxing to have sex.

“Are you alright, Mick?” Betty asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m cool.”

“If you’re cool, then riddle me this. What is my middle name, my favorite color, and my favorite movie?” Knowing that I was cooked, I answered the question with answers from the moon. “Charlotte? Lavender? And Edward Scissorhands?” Betty responded with a very confused face and a grimace. “Ok, what about Princess Mononoke?” Then I had to confess the truth again.

“Ok. I’m tired and I wanna go to sleep,” I said.

“That’s alright Mickey. I’m feeling a bit tired as well.”

“Come here, baby boy.” While I was getting into a lying position, Betty put my head near her chest, and she embraced me. “How does that make you feel?” she asked.

“I feel safe.”

“Good. Is it ok if I give you some kisses?”

Then she kissed my forehead and rubbed my curly hair, while I was sleeping. I didn’t know this at the time. But that night started the best summer of my life. And it was the first of many adventures I would have with Betty.

I woke up and still couldn’t believe I was in the arms of someone I loved. I was on top of Betty and she was holding me tight. I couldn’t remember how I got to this position. But from what was told to me by her. I fell asleep on Betty’s lap, and she slightly moved away from me and slept in my bed. But my half-aware self went to Betty and asked if I could cuddle with her. And there was no hesitation from Betty and she opened her arms to me.

“Good morning. Did you get a good night’s sleep?” I responded with a yes. She responded with a kiss on the forehead. “How long was I out?” I asked. “Well, you fell asleep around midnight,” she said. “Then you would wake up in a couple of moments, but I made sure you got your beauty rest. I heard you talking in your sleep.” As she was saying this, I slowly thought to myself, “Oh my god. I must have said something embarrassing.” But she didn’t reveal to me what I said. “I just thought it was super adorable what you said. You’re such a cutie pie.”

“Do you want to take a shower with me? I can cook breakfast like waffles, and we can go do some other stuff like go longboarding or catch a movie.” And I consented and I was led by Betty by the hand.

The sounds of the water were calming, and it created a haze. We could take turns doing our cleaning process. From using shampoo, body wash, and all that. Then she tried to sing “Bennie and the Jets” by Elton John during the shower. Although resisting a bit, I sang along. When I saw Betty, her hair wasn’t the normal curly long hair, but straight and long. From her back, I hugged her, and I kissed her on the cheek. I couldn’t express through words the love that I have for Betty, so an embrace best expressed them. I was having a problem getting the words “I love you” to her. Then she turned around and she embraced me.

A couple of weeks before high school graduation, I received news that I was accepted at Howard University. I couldn’t believe that I was able to make it, and also should note that it was my father’s alma mater. This was due to him being an alumnus. I felt fortunate to get accepted into the prestigious Historically Black College and University. To celebrate this news, I hung out with Betty.

While riding my longboard with Betty, there was a police car that was following us. Now the officer was giving me trouble, as he threw microaggression at me. When it looked like he was about to pull his gun, I nearly had a panic attack. However, when he realized that I was the son of a police officer, he backed off, apologized, and went his way. This was the first time I was racially profiled.

Although Betty didn’t fully understand what I felt as a Black man, and the pressures and potential harm that would go my way and be still somewhat insistent about being more “colorblind,” she was more than empathetic about my plight. She didn’t want to act like a nonracist or even a white savior. But despite this potentially dangerous and life-ending event, nothing like that ever happened again. Every time we passed a cop car, Betty gave the middle finger and joked about how NWA made a good point in one of their most famous songs.

There were times when we hung out, I almost had a flashback or even a nervous breakdown over the event because of the potential nightmare of a police officer either brutalizing or even shooting me. She recommended that I go to a therapist. Or even talk to Father Paul about it.

A couple of weeks had passed. I had just graduated high school. I was at dinner with my family, mostly silent while everyone was eating dinner. Although I did talk to my mom and younger brother briefly. There wasn’t a word said between myself and my dad. I knew that he was complicit in the potential corruption. When he asked me why I was mostly silent, I told him about the situation that happened to me and Betty. At first, my dad gave me an apology. Although at the time, I felt like he was saving face.

The main argument that my dad made to me was that there are good apples and bad apples, and while there were a couple of bad apples, it didn’t corrupt the department in which he served. However, I argued that the cops that were under him potentially didn’t account for the cases of misconduct, police brutality, and even massive systemic corruption. And that he was morally a coward for not leaving and opposing its current existence. Even at times that were early in the morning, I snuck out of the house and hung out with Betty.

We went to the movies twice a month. Often doing double features, of two different genres and types. They spanned from the latest superhero movies, science fiction, animated movies, dramas, comedies, romances, and the sorts. We even read comic books, manga, and books like the Dune books, and the Lord of the Rings books.

We went to a couple of Baltimore Orioles games and political rallies that spanned abortion rights, LGBTQ+ Rights, and Labor Rights. As well as longboarding through Maryland, during the late afternoons. Even sometimes in the early mornings. And she even invited me to summer classes that talked about socialist theory.

I even spent a weekend with Betty’s family. And it wasn’t something that I expected. When she first mentioned that she had two adopted siblings, I was skeptical. Because I had assumptions about the reasoning why her parents Atticus and Maria were playing a “white savior” role. However, I would say that they weren’t the “white savior” types which I first thought about when Betty told me about having Black adopted siblings named Elijah and Angela. But they were socialists. They often complained about capitalism and the effects it has on the American family. Her dad Atticus said that his adoption of Elijah and Angela was a favor of a friend who was sent to jail for possession of drugs.

All along in these mini adventures, Betty and I have been active in a sexual sense. We had experienced different positions that we consented to and made sure that we didn’t go at a pace that we weren’t comfortable with. And we smoked a good amount of weed. It was more like every other night, to mellow ourselves out, escape from the current reality, or just have a good laugh. I would attest that my favorite part was whenever we would just cuddle together and talk about our hopes and dreams. It was a place where I would be vulnerable to her. And she could be vulnerable with me.

Then Betty surprised me with a two-person ticket trip to Paris, France, in the last week of July before we had to go to college. I didn’t know how she was able to get money for the both of us to go. But she remembered how much I loved French history, and particularly the city of Paris having a special place in African American culture. But by whatever luck, we were able to fly out to France and explore there.

My first attention was to landmark monuments like the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame de Paris, and even places where the French Revolution took place. We went to cathedrals and ate French cuisine. When possible, we went to Mass. But probably my favorite was when we were longboarding across the streets of Paris at night. The feeling of riding through the streets of Paris was a feeling that I couldn’t explain. I would attest that I felt like flowing on the ground and I was elevating in the sky.

When we reached our apartment, the topic of what we wanted was brought up. I was mostly the realistic one as I knew of the systemic barriers against me being Black, and that it would take a good amount of money for me to do. I was almost settling over maybe an office job. However, Betty rejected that. And she looked me dead straight in the eye. Then she put her hand on my face. I felt like I was under the warmth of a loved one. And all around me was this electrical feeling of love.

“Michael, you’re selling yourself short. I know you have a heart for music, and you wanna do some writing of whatever you’re passionate about. I understand that there are barriers and it sucks that they are for people like you. But you fight against those obstacles. Because you have every right to live a life that you are content with and most importantly be free.”

After returning home from our time in Paris, I drove Betty to UMBC and helped her pack into her dorm. The music that we played was “Two of Us” by The Beatles, “Cool Cat” by Queen, and “All I Do” by Stevie Wonder. And Betty made me break into song when the Stevie song came on. It was my favorite song of his. After packing at her dorm, I felt a bit emotional as I felt that there was no guarantee that I would see Betty again. But Betty once again assured me that we would meet again. And she gave me a goodbye kiss that lasted almost like an eternity. When in reality, it was like a minute.

“You have my number and we can keep up when we are free. I know that both of us will be busy with school, and with life, but I value your friendship.”

A couple of weeks later, I started my community college classes. The classes that I was taking were Music Theory, History, and Political Science in the fall semester, and for my spring semester Math, Science, and Acting classes.

For music theory, I had Professor McCarthy. He was an older gentleman who looked like a hippie. Although he was mainly a music theory teacher and taught about Baroque, Classical, Romantic, and Modern music, the man loved talking about music, particularly rock music. His favorite bands were Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Cure, and The Smiths (although he said that he despised Morrissey’s politics). But he always loved all kinds of music as he believed that it best showed the beautiful diversity of humanity.

I then took a bunch of history and political science classes from Professor Levi. He was an openly gay Jewish man. Throughout the courses that I took under him, he often talked about how much he respected Franklin D. Roosevelt, Lyndon Johnson, and even figures like Michael Harrington, James Baldwin, and Cornel West. He talked about an ideology called democratic socialism. The ideology supports political democracy with an emphasis on economic democracy and workplace democracy. He also talked about how he was a card-carrying member of the DSA and that being a part of the organization was one of the greatest blessings in his life.

Even more, he despised both Ronald Reagan and Henry Kissinger. Particularly his stances on labor unions, how friends of his were affected by his union-busting of air traffic controllers, and his lack of action against AIDS heavily affected him as many of his good friends and even his first lover suffered under it. As well as Kissinger’s deplorable acts in Chile and Cambodia. It would always be funny whenever he would mock them.

It was a requirement in his class to read The People’s History of the United States. I would testify that the book opened my eyes to the systematic sins of the United States and made me more conscious of the needs of marginalized groups. And even more, it showed me more about how much the systems that I was under sucked.

The Professor invited me over to a meeting of the Democratic Socialists of America. It was always in a basement at a school near the college. They often talked about the theory and history of left-wing movements and ways they could make the country better for everyone and move America to a socialist society. It was a big tent of people, from democratic socialists, eco-socialists, libertarian socialists, and Trotskyists, just to name a few. I felt welcome there, as they didn’t talk down to me for not reading the works of Karl Marx.

With these meetings, I had a full coming to Jesus moment. I fully realized that the two biggest obstacles to me were capitalism and white supremacy. The two-headed monster was the storm that faced me and I wanted to overcome it in any way that I could. I remembered Betty’s words fighting against those obstacles. The biggest sign of that was in the basement, there was a quote from Martin Luther King Jr, “Call it democracy, or call it democratic socialism, but there must be a better distribution of wealth within this country for all of God’s children.”

That was all the evidence that I needed. I decided to join the DSA. And it was due to reading up about Martin Luther King’s democratic socialist leanings. I became religiously devoted to this group, as I went to meetings and made new friends from different backgrounds. There were people with different religious views than I had. Had different ethnicities and national origins than me. Even those who loved differently than me. But it all felt like a family.

After doing a year of community college and getting my degrees I decided not to transfer to another college. This was because I felt that I did everything required education-wise. So I wanted to live my life. So I left and moved in with my older brother Cooper and his wife Gabrielle in California. However, I didn’t tell Betty this beforehand.

Job-wise, I was doing whatever I wanted. I lead a small punk rock/hard rock band attempting to be like a combination of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Pink Floyd. The band was called the Mavericks of the Rose Garden. I was especially influenced by great black rock stars like Jimi Hendrix, Little Richard, Lenny Kravitz, and Chuck Berry. I also did a bunch of research on the inspiration that the African American experience had on rock music. And I wanted to reclaim it.

Our manager was a man named Mister Kendell, who was a middle-aged Latino man who was empathetic to our leftist beliefs and a manager of punk bands. We produced a couple of mixtapes and even a solo studio album. And we even got a fair number of fans whenever we had a concert. When I was home in Maryland, I wanted to invite some people that I knew were in town, however, I thought about inviting Betty, and I resisted the urge.

But after five years, we had to go on hiatus. This was due to not many people going to our concerts anymore and not getting as many gigs as we did for the first three years, and it partially would probably have to do with my open political views. Also, Mister Kendell had passed away, and his replacement Ethan was a capitalist toolbox, who despised our left-wing politics and kept asking us to make more centrist work. Needlessly to say, I felt depressed about this decision to stop doing this band.

I was in bed, feeling miserable. I was having trouble getting a good-paying job and even paying my share of the bills. Not to mention paying for my memberships to the DSA The biggest saving grace was that Cooper helped to make sure I was good. Then one of the days, Cooper came to my room. And he had a phone in hand. “Michael, the phone is for you.” When I said hello, it was a voice that surprised me. It was the voice of someone that I used to know.

“Hey Mickey, it’s me, Betty.” Then time froze for what felt like longer than a second or so. I almost felt like blacking out when I heard her voice. I almost had a panic attack. Everything felt like it was going so freaking fast. Lights were flashing in front of me. I know Cooper was standing a bit from me and he looked like he was a bit concerned.

“Betty?” I felt like I wasn’t in control of my words, my thoughts, or my reactions to the matter. While this was happening, a slow-motion wave of memories started pouring into my mind. From the first time that we met when we were around nine years old, the times that we hung out during high school, prom night, and all the adventures that went on afterward. Especially our time in Paris. And then it all went to the current moment. Briefly, I was silent. “Mickey? Are you still there.”

“Yeah, Betty. I know it’s been a big minute since we have talked or even hung out. If you’re around the area, how about we meet up for a weekend out? It’s been a good minute.” For a brief moment, I was thinking about my answer. Although it was of great hesitation on my part, because I had full knowledge of why we didn’t speak for a while, I decided to consent to it.

“Sure.” While there was a point of contention between the two of us, I felt that this was something that I had to do to have some form of closure. By the sound of Betty’s voice, she seemed very excited for me to visit. “Fantastic, I got a certain day set. And when you find me at work, I have this weekend set for a mini vacation and to have an adventure like we were always going to do when we were younger.”

Being conflicted, I asked Cooper about what I should do. During this time, we played video games like Smash Bros, NBA 2K, Mario Kart, and Madden. It was a tradition to play games together, and for the most part, he would beat me, because I wasn’t good in a versus battle with him. He was one of the best gamers that I have seen, and always knew what to do.

“You’re overworking yourself. You need to take a break and live a little. Plus it’s not a coincidence that when you were talking to Betty you felt different,” he said. I was ignoring what Cooper was saying because I felt like I had moved on from her, and I believed that she moved on from me and probably was married.

“Look, I have found my one. And I remember you being super supportive when I started dating her, and even when I got married and moved out of our home state, you came through as my best man. You deserve someone who loves you unconditionally, and that person is Betty. I know you didn’t have it easy, but you deserve the world.”

There was something that I didn’t say about why I fell out with Betty, and why this was so shocking to me.

The reason we stopped talking was because I wasn’t there for her at moments when she needed me.

So I went back to my home state of Maryland for the first time in a couple of years. For the day heading up, I drove around my old home-bound place. To see if the places were still there. I paid a visit to the old Catholic school that I attended for a brief time. Then I had a brief memory of the times at school. I then went to the old Catholic church that I was a member of. I saw Father Paul, and he was taking a walk. But I didn’t say anything to him. Because one, it’s been a while since I have been practicing the Catholic faith or even any religious faith.

Midweek through the week, I received a text message from Betty. “How does Friday sound?”

“Sounds good,” I texted back.

“I’ll send you the place where we can meet.”

A couple of days later on Friday night, I went to the IHOP, where Betty was working as a host, as part of her job. She was talking to a co-worker who was on the younger side, and I didn’t catch what they were saying. Then I saw Betty. She still had brunette hair, wore her Converse shoes, and wore the iHop uniform, and we didn’t have that much eye contact. I don’t know if she still considered me as a friend. She seemed cold to me, and I felt cold to her.

Instead of saying my nickname, I called myself Michael. When I was sent to my place to sit. While I was waiting, I was looking at pictures on my phone and I saw old pictures of my family, stuff in the theater, the Catholic church, and especially with Betty. Then the waitress came my way, and I knew it was Betty. But I hoped to God that she wouldn’t recognize me.

“Hello, sir. I’m glad you’re able to spend this evening with us at iHOP, would you like to give your order?” For a brief moment, my mind went back to the memories of when we hung out. And it took a minute for her to recognize me. And I would imagine that some flashbacks were going through her head. “Oh my goodness. Mickey? Is that you? Oh my goodness, you don’t have a baby face anymore.” She was referencing how I grew facial hair. I mentioned that she didn’t age a day. Then she made a snarky comeback, “Hey, you don’t look too bad yourself. Also, We’re the same age.”

“Well, can I take your order?” she said.

“May I have some waffles, with a side of chicken tenders and a Mountain Dew.”

“Alright, I’ll get your drink first, and you’ll wait until your food,” she said. Betty told me this later on in the night, but she then went to the women’s room, and she had to collect herself.

She took my order of Mountain Dew, and instead of continuing to work, Betty sat with me while I was waiting for the food. “Why have you stopped working? Isn’t your boss still here? I would imagine that he would be pissed if you were caught not working.” While I knew I said what I said as an act of sympathy, the look on Betty’s face wasn’t fooled by my attempt at concern.

“I’m not that concerned about that,” she said. When she said that, I was a bit nervous and I knew that there was something that was bothering Betty.

After some level of silence, Betty talked first. “Before we start going, I just want to say that I have a bone to pick with you. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me that you were going away to a different state. I thought that we were thick as thieves. We have done almost everything together, we have gone to church together. We have slept together a good number of times. We went outside the country. Was it all a joke to you? Because I know that that meant everything to me. When my dad died, that rocked my world to stinking sand. He along with my mom has been the biggest support in my life. And I needed you in my life for support, and you weren’t there. And I couldn’t help but have a grudge.”

For a moment, I had to think about a response. At first, I thought about defending myself, and thinking that I had multiple things that were happening in my life at the time and Betty was being insensitive to my plight. But then I realized that I wasn’t taking responsibility and I was very dismissive of Betty’s needs. So I had to be the one who had to give an apology.

“You’re right. I was being super selfish in not telling you that I was thinking about moving to California. And to be honest, California doesn’t hit like home. And I missed seeing you. And you always had my heart. And even at the time, it broke my heart that I wasn’t considerate of your feelings. And I regretted not being there for you.”

While Betty didn’t accept my apology yet, she seemed understanding. “I have to admit that I am sorry about the words I said to you, that you’re inauthentic and a fake friend. Because I let my grief get a hold of me to say something that I didn’t mean.” Then Betty got up from her place. “Can you stand up for me?” After I stood up, Betty hugged me. And then I hugged her back. Tears were going through our eyes, and I felt like something was being restored after years of being broken.

“I hope we’re cool, Betty.”

“Yeah, I think that we are cool. Now let’s catch up on lost time”

“I’m just trying to make ends meet. I took a job as a high school public school teacher. Then I worked here for three nights for a couple of hours. I know that being a teacher doesn’t pay much, I knew that I had to get a backup job for me to pay the bills. But I’m fortunate that I was able to.” I told her about my experiences going to community college and being a part of a punk rock hard rock heavy metal hybrid band for four years, and just looking for a job.

I asked her if she still saw herself as a democratic socialist, and she said that she didn’t. And that was something that she didn’t believe anymore. However, she still thought that socialism was the preferable option. The biggest surprise for her was that I was the one who was a firm believer in socialism. “Looks like we switched places. But I could see myself coming back into the camp.”

Something that I realized was that Betty wasn’t that bubbly person that I knew anymore. But I could understand because life is hard and I have been beaten down by life as well. Which has been a common factor for both of us. I thought about reaching out a metaphorical hand. But I also didn’t know if Betty felt that she had moved on.

“I guess the thing that we have in common is that we are working dream jobs that don’t pay shit for us, and we have to do whatever to pay the bills. In other words, capitalism sucks.” I felt like I had failed the advice that she gave me about trying to follow my dreams and all that. “Mick, fighting against Capitalism or every other systemic shitstorm won’t take a day to beat.”

After her shift was over, Betty asked me something. “Do you wanna go longboarding?”

“You still do that?”

“I use it whenever I don’t feel like driving or even taking the bus.”

“Are you sure? I haven’t done it in a long time.”

“I’m sure.”

When I was riding my longboard with Betty, I felt the air of euphoria. The warm wind blowing behind me and I saw the sunset and a beautiful mix of orange, blue, and pink. Then I somewhat daydreamed. I was flying upon the sky on my longboard and I was going to the heavens. The feeling of freedom was something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I didn’t feel the problems that I had faced in my life mattered, I was living something that was beyond the human form. When she looked back at me, she gave me a warm smile.

Then I asked Betty, “Are we cool now?” She smirked at me, and she responded with a yes. “You know, Michael. I haven’t had nights like this in a good while. I know that there was stuff happening since we last met. And we didn’t end up on a good note. But I’m grateful that my parents have helped me out when I can, and like we have this time together. And I don’t think that I could have been mad at you forever.”

“So do you want to start again, and officially be a thing?”

“Yes, Michael.” She then held my hand and put her head on my shoulder. After some time leaning on me, we watched the evening blue sky with the stars out. The cool breeze. Then we kissed for the first time in a long time. “Do you wanna come to my place? I know the night is still young, and we can do whatever we want.”

When we came to their condo, I looked at the girl and she had brown eyes and even had my curly hair. Betty paid the babysitter of the young child. All the while she hugged me and called me, “Dad.”

“Who is this?”

“Mickey, this is my daughter, Ellie.”

“Does this mean that I’m the father? Because I don’t remember you asking me…”

“No, no, no, baby. It wasn’t you. She is only three. I had her as a favor of a friend and was a surrogate. I have raised her with the help of my mom.”

When I was looking around the apartment, I witnessed several pictures. One was a picture of prom night.

There were high school degrees and college degrees. And then I saw a picture of Father Paul and Betty.

“I thought you weren’t Catholic anymore,” I said.

“You’re right. I’m Episcopalian. After I was cast out from the church because I disobeyed certain doctrines in the Catholic Church, and Father Paul was defrocked from the Catholic because he was supportive of LGBTQ+ Rights and had sheltered a bunch of kids who were in the closet and made a promise not to out them to their parents. So I felt welcomed in the Episcopal Church. The main priest is a woman and has often preached about the tenet of caring for the least of these. I’m not much of a religious person, but it’s good to have a community.”

After putting Ellie to sleep, I wanted to confess to Betty about my feelings. “You were the only person that I have been intimate with. You are the only one with whom I feel a deep emotional connection without fear of what you would think about me. And you were the only one that I loved. I was just self-conscious. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. And I want to help raise Ellie with you.”

Betty warmly smiled and held my hand, “I was waiting for that answer, Michael. I always loved you. Maybe this is a prayer answered. I thought.” Then we started to make out which would lead to sex. However, Betty jokingly said to me, “Hey, don’t make too much noise. I know how you are and make sure you don’t wake up Ellie.” Then we went to the shower, and we had sex while in the shower. Don’t know if it was necessarily the best idea beforehand, but it was something that both of us enjoyed the experience.

While I was brushing my teeth, Betty hugged me in the back and hummed the lyrics of “La Vie en Rose” by Louis Armstrong. All the while, she was kissing my cheek and then my neck. Her hands were on my chest and although my body. All with my consent. This caused me to whimper, and moan. But also made me laugh. I was talking back at her because I wanted to focus. But I couldn’t resist her signs of affection. Then I spun her around and kissed her. Then for a moment, I hugged her. And she hugged me back. All the while, we were humming “All I Do.”

After spending the night together, Betty encouraged me to see people I had not seen in a while. I was more than content with seeing my old teachers, Father Paul, and even my Mom. But my Dad was almost out of the question in my mind. But there was something from Betty that surprised me. She said that my Dad had changed a great deal since he had last encountered each other and that I should give him another chance.

When I went into Father Paul’s home, I was shocked that he almost looked the same as I saw him. In part, he had grown some gray hairs, and would sometimes limp in his step. But he was still the happy warrior that he was. He cooked some food for me, and we had a conversation on a variety of topics. He talked about his stances on the issues of the day, the music that he enjoyed, and the adventures he went throughout the world.

When he mentioned how he was affirming LGBTQ+ people that was one of the reasons he was defrocked. I asked why he sacrificed his job as a Catholic Priest when he could have been like the Archbishop or even the Pope. “Because I was willing to lay down the things I love in pursuit of people having a better tomorrow. I remember when I was younger, and I was a product of privilege. My father was a rich man. He didn’t give a damn about the people that were beneath him. When given the choice of following his footsteps of wealth or following in the footsteps of Saint Francis of Assisi, I chose the latter. I wanted to live a life with those who were on the margins. Hence in part, I was more than welcoming, and even more bluntly affirming of people that were different in my former Parish. I don’t regret any of the positions that I have held. As it is the conviction of my Christian faith that I would be the brother’s keeper to anyone I can.”

After visiting my old history professor and teachers like Professor Levi, Mister Cedric, and Mister Kareem, I went to my parents’ home. I hadn’t talked with my dad in years. However, me and my mother were on speaking terms. She talked about how my younger brother has made her and Dad proud with his work in marine biology and even more his environmentalist activism. But Dad never came up since I haven’t spoken to him since the incident. However, I felt like I was in the emotional stage to potentially reconcile with my Dad.

My Dad explained the realization that despite the good deeds he did, the systemic problems were too outstanding, and constant issues with police brutality and corruption remained. And so he resigned from the police force all together. And that he was wrong to disregard any of my concerns and even ignore my calls about the moral corruption of the police department to which he had dedicated his life. Then I formed a reconciliation with my father. From then on, he became way more supportive of the career choices that I was endeavoring and even more supportive of what I believed in.

Six years have passed since I have returned home. I’m currently thirty years old, and I feel like things have dramatically gotten better. Me and Betty got married and had our first child together. It was a girl named Olivia. We moved from Betty’s condo to an affordable house and we are active members of the Episcopal Church that Betty attended I felt very welcome for the political stances that I held as a democratic socialist. I would even say that the main priest was a democratic socialist herself. I worked with the youth ministry and taught when I could. We were also active in activism that evolved around social justice. In a promise made by my father, I went to Howard University and became a double major in history and political science.

I reunited with my band and did gigs with a manager who had the spirit of Mister Kendell. I have been a freelance writer, writing comic books and even articles that tackled a wide variety of topics. I also continued my activism. Which spanned from challenging systematic corruption in the police system, anti-poverty measures, the protection of the social safety net, reproductive rights, LGBTQ+ Rights, and housing.

We have gotten a bill that advanced affordable housing passed and signed into law. Even a bill that advocated complete and total systemic dismantlement of the police department, a full abolition of qualified immunity, and conviction of the many officers that the system enabled. And we were able to reimagine public safety.

I was writing my journal in my room. While listening to the song, “I Will” by The Beatles. Then Betty stood there wearing my Grateful Dead shirt, and my clear glasses. “You’re wearing my shirt and my glasses,” I said.

“Oops.” I wasn’t angry at her for a minute, because she looked cute and it was something that was turning me on. And she gave me a look like the first time we were intimate. She asked me to wrestle, and I said sure, but first, she had to take off my glasses because I didn’t want to break them. What was believed to be a wrestling match, ended up as a cuddling match.

I looked into her eyes and she was looking into mine. Not a single word was said between us, but we both gave warm smiles. She turned to me and got into my arms.“Are you looking forward to having a baby boy?”

“I believe so. We have had two girls before this, and I’m ready to have him.”

“I believe that you’re going to be great.”

“Do you have a name in mind?”

“I have been busy thinking about other things, especially making sure you’re doing good. Not really.” “Well, we got time. We might even have a name ready after I give birth.”

Before she fell asleep, she told me that she loved me, and kissed me goodnight. As we were sleeping, I held Betty’s hand and let her head be on my shoulder. Our hands were over Betty’s pregnant stomach. And even sleeping, I could feel our child. Before I went to sleep, I kissed Betty on the forehead and went to Dreamland.

Then I dreamt of seeing myself meeting a nine-year-old. He was wearing his Catholic uniform and he saw me with a guitar on my back. The younger me walked towards me from behind and reached out his hand. And then I reached out my hand as well. He asked me a question. “Is that me?” and I answered him honestly. And when I whispered in his ear about the future. When he heard what I had to say, he was greatly surprised and left with a smile on his face.

I felt at peace. I had everything I ever wanted and a little bit more on top. I felt like God had given me a life that was truly a fulfillment of my dreams and desires, and that I was able to contribute to the world being a better place. A place where everyone was treated as equals. A place where everyone can follow their dreams and be without restraints based on who they are, who they love, what they believe, or whatever difference they would have. At that moment, I felt a sense of liberation and freedom. And I wanted to share that sense with everyone and build towards a future where we were all free.