Opening night.
The play had been denounced in letters to the editor, a TV news segment had run the night before, and a handful of protestors toted signs up and down the sidewalk. That was just what a college with a zero publicity budget needed. The house was almost full.
It went without a hitch. Everyone's performance was sharp, tech missed not a single cue, and at the emotional climax, where Barry and Mark's characters silently melted into each other's arms with a tender kiss, the audience held its breath. Donna and Mark's scene that ended the show made hearts ache with its understated longing. A half-standing ovation brought a second curtain call.
"Klimt," jotted the newspaper critic on his way out. Even those who went in anti-gay and expecting to be disgusted found themselves grudgingly acknowledging that love, and love lost, is timeless. No prejudiced mind was changed that night, but a few seeds of ideas like tolerance and beauty may have fallen into fertile ground and begun to sprout. Who could ask for more?
Backstage, the cast was giddy. Ms. Mahoney was proud and didn't bother to hide it. After everyone hugged, pounded each other on the back, and shared congratulations, she stepped in and gave a short speech. Because of the show's success, she would plan a dialogue with the audience, to be held after the sixth and final performance in nine days. She asked the cast to start thinking now about what kinds of questions would be asked and how they would answer.
And, she announced, there was an after-party prepared for them all, cast and crew, in the art building lounge.
The cast noshed on oatmeal cookies and juice, talking about the show.
"I still can't believe we pulled it off," Sherry was saying to the two stars of the show. "It was crazy how it all fit together. You guys rocked it."
"Aw, you know it wasn't just us," said Mark. "Nobody was anything without everyone else there too. Your phone call scene, very funny, just what we needed. Your scene with Donna where you're showing her how grimly determined you are to move on, that couldn't have been better."
"I think she means your making out with me," said Barry, and the boys got friendly chuckles and shoves when they re-enacted it on the spot as a big fake air-kiss.
"What did you think, Donna?" asked Mark. She'd been pleased, clearly, but unusually quiet all night.
"Well..." she said. "I'm a little worried about talking with the audience. I'm not really sure what to say."
"I'm sure that won't be a problem," said Sherry, "you never have a problem knowing what to say, I'm sure it'll come to you."
"That's the problem though," said Donna, and hesitated. "I'd have to be honest, you know? And say what I really think."
Tension froze them in place. Three pairs of eyes were drawn to Donna's hand, fingering the tiny gold cross she'd always worn around her neck.
"I just would have to say I don't believe in it, that's all. It's not the right choice," she said. "Homosexuality," she added, unnecessarily.
Mark and Barry struggled for what to say. Sherry stepped in.
"Donna! You can't really believe that. You don't think gays should have the same rights as the rest of us?"
"I believe in equal rights, yeah. But not special rights. And there's a difference between having the right, and doing what's right. I don't think people should be gay."
"How do you--? That's not--!"
Mark stepped in. "Donna, you don't think people choose to be gay, do you? Isn't it something you're born with?" Even as he was saying it, the words felt strange coming out of his mouth.
"Well, I don't know about that. Either way, it doesn't matter. It's not right, it's not natural, and people shouldn't do it. It's not my place to judge them. But what I believe is very clear on the subject. It's just not right, end of story."
Before he could think about how daring he was being, Mark put his arm around Barry's shoulder. "And what did you think when you saw two guys kissing, night after night? You blame us or think we're terrible people?"
Sherry turned to look at them.
"No," said Donna, who had clearly thought about this: "of course you're just two ordinary guys who are in a play about homosexuality. That doesn't make you terrible any more than someone who plays a murderer."
Things more or less fell apart. Mark found it awful that she thought being gay was like being a murderer, and Barry was offended that she thought she was in a play "about" being gay. ("It's so much more!" he thought.) Everyone talked at once. Zac couldn't get a word in edgewise. And Sherry, her dark eyes flashing, was furious, and only with great effort did she manage to simmer herself down to a silent resentment.
Donna stood her ground, mostly. By the time she said "I hope this doesn't affect our performances in tomorrow night's show" and walked back to her dorm, the mood had crashed. It was a dismal and confusing end to a night that had started so well.
Most of the other cast and crew -- Ms. Mahoney hadn't joined them -- wandered home. Mark, Barry and Sherry turned off half the lights and sat in the dim room talking. They knew they weren't going to make much sense of what had just happened, but they wanted to try.
And Sherry liked Mark, and liked being around him. She'd seen his dorm room the week before, once, briefly, invited in as a friend, and sitting there talking with him had just felt right. His mop of curly dark hair and crooked wide smile gave her a crush like a schoolgirl. And his broad shoulders and big hands stirred darker, stronger urges.
Both young men, horny as ever, enjoyed being in Sherry's company. She had an easy grin and a happy laugh that made them feel at home.
And -- when her gaze lit elsewhere -- neither of them minded taking a quick look at the swell of her breasts under her shirt, a glance at the way cloth clung to her girlish waist and womanly hips, or just a longing gaze at the parts of her creamy brown skin they could see. Her delicate ear, her lovely dark neck, her thin, agile fingers, all, to the long-deprived actors, was a banquet for the eyes.
Sherry was trying to work up the nerve to ask Mark if he'd like to go for a walk. Barry's presence and Donna's bombshell had thrown her off-balance. She had just convinced herself she could take the plunge when, shortly before midnight, the janitor stuck her head in and told them they'd have to vacate.
If Barry had only made himself scarce, Sherry thought, she would ask Mark to coffee. But he didn't, and the boys said they'd walk her across the street to her dorm, and they did, and after a goodnight hug she found herself stepping inside, to the warm, well-lit, empty stairs that led to her room.
"Okay, so that just happened," she muttered to herself, trudging upstairs.
Mark and Barry walked back to Mark's dorm building.
"What do you think?" he asked Barry as they stood at the entrance. "Yeah," was all Barry needed to say. "Yeah." He walked up to Mark's dorm with him.
Mark's couch faced the door. As it swung shut, he strode across the room and fell onto it. "Long fucking day," he said.
Barry walked to the bookshelf and ran a finger across some spines. After a moment, he posed a question without looking. "Do you feel good about this?"
"You mean what we're about to do?"
"Right."
Mark opened his mouth with a snappy answer ready, then closed it and thought.
