Gene picked me up at my apartment around 6:30 p.m. He pulled up with a quick sequence of honks in his Corvette and I almost tripped down the stairs while running to meet him. I rushed into the front passenger seat and hastily wrapped the seat belt around my torso. Elvis was blasting on the radio (I felt like grabbin' you real tight, Squeeze and squeeze with all my might, All I could do was stand there paralyzed), and Gene watched me closely with a smile as I sat down. He held my hand that lay in my lap and squeezed it.
"You look gorgeous tonight."
I smiled. I had spent the last two hours doing my makeup and hair with Rita and Kim. When Kim offered to drive us to school, I declined because Gene wanted me to go with him. So Kim left with Rita around 6 o'clock.
"Thank you. You look really good too; very fresh."
He gave me a chaste peck on my cheek. "You all ready?"
I beamed at him. "Ready as I'll ever be."
When we arrived at the Theodore Roosevelt High School auditorium, Kim, Rita, Matt, and Francis were waiting by the front entrance. It was warm that night with bright stars in the sky and sparkling rays of moonshine. My friends looked wonderful; youthful and excited. Upon our arrival, Francis and Matt were holding hands and disclosed to us that they were finally dating.
"Oh my God, congratulations!" I exclaimed and ran to hug Matt. For all the struggle he went through, he deserved this. "Who asked who?"
From my right, Francis replied, "He did a few days ago. He beat me to it."
We all laughed, and then a voice interjected:
"What the hell?"
Confused, I parted from Matt's arms and turned to look at Gene. Gene never knew about their budding relationship and I thought it wasn't my place to tell him; it was their life. But this reaction was very unexpected. He scrunched his eyebrows and glared at us.
"You didn't tell me you were friends with a fag."
I stared at him in disbelief. "What?"
He clenched his fists and walked towards us, anger and disgust seeping from every step. I stepped in his way and was cruelly shoved to the side, stumbling as Kim caught me.
"Gene, what are you doing?" Rita yelled but it fell on deaf ears.
He stood before Matt and Francis, the latter shielding his boyfriend from Gene. I steadied myself and before he could do anything terrible, I grabbed his hand. I pulled hard, jerking him away from my friends. This was not the Gene I knew.
"Stop this. Let's just enjoy the night, yeah?"
I pulled him away from my friends, into the school, and to the gymnasium. He followed me silently with a deep scowl. We checked in at the front desk and hung up our coats. We proceeded onto the basketball court, music blaring and colorful lights flashing. Rita and Kim joined us a couple of minutes later. Kim pulled me aside while Rita and Gene grabbed drinks from the concession stand.
"What the hell was that?"
"I don't—"
"That was not okay."
"I know! I've never seen that side of him before."
She sighed. "Yeah, well, you need to have a serious talk with him."
"I know…How are Matt and Francis?"
She combed her bangs away from her eyes. "Matt was really frightened. Gene's a scary guy, you know? Francis is comforting him though. He said they'll join us later. Just keep Gene away from them and fix this some other time."
"I'm so sorry…Let's just try to make the best out of tonight."
She smiled and hugged me tight. A moment passed before Rita returned with a soft pretzel and a cup of red punch. She handed the pretzel to Kim.
"Gene will be just a few more minutes. They have to make a new batch of hotdogs—Oh my God, is that Robert Massey?"
I turned to look behind me where Rita was looking and saw Robert hand-in-hand with Deborah Mosley.
"What the hell is a nice girl like Deborah doing with Robert Massey?" Kim asked in disbelief.
We watched as they checked in and dropped off their coats then continued into the open doors of the gymnasium. They bumped into Robert's gang of hooligans and started talking, swaying their bodies to the music.
I looked to Kim. "I thought he asked you to prom."
"Guess he found a replacement."
For the last time that night, I let myself go and laughed.
Unlike my optimistic predictions, the night dragged on endlessly. The dance floor was slick with sweat and shoes squeaked as we danced to songs like "I Want to Hold Your Hand" and "The Twist." Midway through the night, Matt and Francis entered the auditorium, but they stayed to themselves, afraid to incur Gene's unwarranted rage. A large glittering disco ball hung low from the ceiling, a bright light from the makeshift DJ booth cascading the luminous beams onto the crowd. Hundreds of students gathered on the dance floor, cramping together in a claustrophobic nightmare. People sang and shouted along with their favorite songs while bumping hips and elbows with the people next to them. No one was spared from the scent of body odor and hair getting in their eyes. When it was time for the slow dance, couples gathered together, hand in hand, and rocked to the Everly Brothers, "Let It Be Me." Gene and I danced together while Kim and Rita went to the ladies' room.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Gene asked.
I smiled at him, not too sure of what I was feeling, but I replied with a confident, "Yes."
I wanted to enjoy the night, and I did have fun dancing to "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini" with Rita and Kim, but I was upset that Gene spoke so aggressively to my friends. I couldn't understand why; I'd never had any inkling that he was homophobic. I wanted my boyfriend and friends to get along, but I was starting to see that it would be much more difficult to achieve after that night. However, I was glad to see from across the room that Matt and Francis were dancing with smiles on their faces. But on the other hand, my night was ruined and I needed to talk to Gene. After the slow dance, around 9 pm, I pulled Gene to the front entrance and outside, away from nosy ears. Kim and Rita cast me a concerned glance as I left but I reassured them with a confident nod that all would be okay. Well, don't you know I'm caught in a trap? I can't walk out, Because I love you too much, baby.
We walked to the side of the building near a storage shack where Robert's gang often hung out to smoke. I was afraid the conversation would become a full-blown argument. I finally realized his opinions that far contrasted my own and I expected us to get quite heated. I didn't want to worry my friends who were finally having fun after an uncomfortable and scary interaction with my boyfriend. We stopped a few feet from the shed, still smelling of drugs.
"Gene, I want to talk about what happened earlier with Matt."
"What about it?" He glanced around with a small smile on his face.
"Why were you so harsh? They're my friends."
"They're queers, Babe. Disgusting dick lovers."
"Stop that! Is it so wrong for two people to love each other?"
"Between two men it is."
"But they're my friends—"
"Gene!"
I turned my head to see the owner of the voice, Brett, shouting from the doorway of the shack. Gene's smile widened and they did some strange handshake I'd never seen before. I hadn't seen a lot of Gene, I suppose. I'd seen many new parts of him, scary parts that were not the man I had grown to love. Brett and Gene spoke in a hushed whisper, but loud enough for me to make out a few words.
"...boys…here…"
"Do you…stuff?"
"Yeah, is she…?"
Gene nodded.
"When…start?"
"Now."
The two boys glanced at me and chills ran up my spine. Uneasy but not knowing why, I quickly turned to leave, my pace picking up as I walked away. I heard the crunch of grass behind me, footsteps speeding up. A rough hand tightly grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Fear took hold and I lashed out to hit whoever it was with my fist, but blinding pain shot through my face and blood pooled in my mouth as I fell to the ground—
Grass dripping with blood like early morning dew.
When I regained consciousness, he was towering over me as rough hands held my arms above my head. Brett? My cheek stung and I tasted blood in my mouth. Blood? I heard loud music playing from the auditorium; Gary Puckett, "Young Girl." I couldn't feel most of my body; the pain was all I felt. Who hit me? My hair was matted with drying blood and my nose felt broken. I looked around with tired eyes, realizing that I was inside the shed. There were many—dozens? hundreds?—boys surrounding me, some leering and others talking and laughing amongst themselves. My dress was dusty and crimped from lying in the dirt and I had lost my heels. I tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but my voice was weak, barely a whisper. What's happening? Gene's voice, the one I had fallen so deeply for, grew louder as he spoke to a boy I couldn't make out.
"You won't forget the deal, right?"
"Of course not, I have the stuff for you."
Who is talking?
"She really didn't let you ball?"
"No, said she was waiting for marriage."
"And her friend's a fag?"
"Yeah, he's fucking Francis too."
"Fucking hell. First, the freedom-riding blacks, now the queers? What's next?"
A boy I didn't recognize in my beaten haze leaned over and kissed me on my bruised cheek.
"We'll take care of you, Babe."
I turned my head to look at him but he was gone. Instead, I saw Gene.
"Thanks for everything, Shirl."
He said something else but my ears started to ring and my eyes began to blur with tears. What is happening? Gene walked toward me and kneeled to hover over my body. My dress was crumpled and ripped. Blood dripped from my busted lips and melted into my dress. My red heels–blood?–were long gone and my bare feet gathered dirt. Gene grasped my chin and leaned in to kiss me. I whipped my head to the left and saw a group of boys standing to the side, watching. How many are there? My breath caught and I twisted my arms, but Brett's hands held firm. Is someone laughing? Gene's finger dug into my cheeks and I winced as he pulled my lips to his. Blood, Spit, Teeth, Tongue, Blood. I was dying. My insides ripped and gutted, soul revealed: God was welcoming me home. Rocking and spinning and dancing and twirling; I was flying. Flashes and hymns of Angels above me; so many Angels offered me solace and I took their hands. They ripped the skin from my bones, nails from my fingers, teeth from my mouth. I saw myself, naked and bare for God to pluck me from my mortal vessel and carry me to Paradise. My soul watched my dead beaten body with contempt and affection, face obscured but body revealed. I was me but not myself and I never will be again.
I awoke alone minutes? hours? days? later. I was sticky with the liquids of life and dust clung to my skin and clothes. My limbs ached and trembled, my skin raw with red surface scratches and deep blue bruises. My eyes were dry; I couldn't cry, I'd already emptied myself. I willed myself to sit up, anything to get away from this place. The ground burned my skin like a fiery blaze and my feet seized like they were being poked by thousands of little needles. I pulled on my underwear from where it lay helpless around my ankles and I searched for my shoes. With wobbling legs, I carried myself out of the shed and toward the auditorium, heels hanging from my fingers. Slow dance music sounded from the gymnasium, signaling that prom was winding down. How long was I out? On my toes, I peeked into the room through a window, lights blinding my weak-willed eyes. How weak I was. Couples that once were me swung in tandem around the dance floor, smiles wide and dreams fulfilled. I saw Kim and Rita, Francis and Matt twirling like I was not too long ago, smiles wide and eyes sparkling. My mouth opened wide, lips dry and tongue aching to speak, to scream. For help—
"I have to go."
I gathered myself as best I could and limped into the night. I walked the familiar path home, the street well-lit with street lamps and few cars passing by. I'd walked this path many times before with Matt, Rita, and Kim but in the somber night when my feet bled red from fresh cuts and tears welled in my eyes, it was unfamiliar. A foreign country, one I'd only read about in my father's magazine with towering people to match grandiose buildings. The road was quiet for the most part if not for my clanging heels and the wet slaps of my feet. Blood, Spit, Teeth, Tongue, Blood. I picked up my pace, wanting to be back home where my father was, home where I felt safe. A car sped past me and a bra was thrown my way; My Bra. Unfamiliar boys laughed, and a once-familiar boy sat in the front seat with an innocent, sheepish smile.