So the Season's Changed Your Face
Act VI, Scene II
“Prom?! Prom, Vivi? I don’t wanna go to prom!” Mike exclaimed loudly. So loudly, in fact, that his dad shouted from the living room, “Stop yelling, Mike, you’ll wake up the entire neighborhood!”
“Do you even hear what she is asking me to do, dad?” Mike asked, exiting his room and entering the living room. He stood directly in front of the television. Mike was being very obnoxious.
“Mike, get out of the way,” Mr. Carden said, trying in vain to see around Mike. “I’m missing Wheel of Fortune.”
“Dad, she wants me to go to prom,” Mike whined.
“Why are you being such a drama queen about this?” I asked. “It’s just prom. I’m not asking you to marry me; I’m asking you to go to prom with me.”
Mr. Carden, wishing to rid himself of Mike and I, did some very quick thinking. “Mike, I haven’t given you any advice for a very long time, and for that, I am sorry. But now, I feel you need some good, solid advice. So, man to man – go to prom.”
“Dad, you’re supposed to be on my side! Don’t take her side!”
“I am on your side. If you don’t go to prom with her, she’s probably going to hold it against you for the duration of your relationship and probably longer – am I right, Vivi?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
“And you do really want that?”
Lucas popped out of his bedroom. “Mike, just go with her. You’re lucky she’s even dating you. I don’t even know why you’re complaining.”
I grinned. Finally! Lucas isn’t scurrying away at the mere sight of me!
“But I have to get a tux,” Mike complained.
“Fucking Christ,” Mr. Carden muttered under his breath. “It’s not that I don’t like you guys, but can you please take this conversation elsewhere?”
I pulled Mike back into his room and Lucas ducked back into his. “Is this really about a tux, Mike? You can’t be serious,”
“I had a very traumatizing experience last time I got fitted for a tux,” Mike confessed, though by the tone of his voice, this wasn’t what his problem was. He was definitely hiding something, but I humored him nonetheless.
“Mike, I’m sure you had a very traumatizing experience and I’m not trying to minimize your pain, but sometimes the best way to get over traumatizing experiences is to face them again,”
“They kept poking me with pins,” he continued, sounding very childish. “I don’t like pins or needles or anything sharp and pokey.”
“But that was, what, nine years ago?” I offered a half smile. “I think it’s time to get over it.”
Mike didn’t respond. He merely shifted his weight nervously.
“It is about the tux, isn’t it?”
Mike looked pretty embarrassed and I recognized that, so I opened my mouth to say that he didn’t have to talk to me about it if he didn’t want to, but –
“It’s like every time I, you know, try to look nice or wear nice clothes or something, someone always has to give me shit about it. They’re always like, ‘Oh, Mike, who’re you trying to impress?’. I mean, why can’t they shut the fuck up about it? Why do they have to be an ass about it? You know? Like, why can’t I just look nice? Why is it such an ordeal?” he spewed out, speaking at top speed. “And it makes me never want to try to look nice, you know? Because I know someone’s going to give me shit about it. Someone’s gonna make an asshole comment about it. Like, I don’t want to deal with that.”
He paused and realized what he had just done. Mike is usually a very guarded person and very rarely lets anyone know that he actually has feelings. He nervously scratched his arm. “It’s stupid.”
“No, Mike, it’s really not,” I said quickly. “I get it. I really do. I’ve been there. It’s not stupid.”
I hugged him. I tried to put all of my sympathy and empathy and compliments into that hug because he needed it. For a moment, he remained rigid, very much Mike, but he suddenly let go, in a way, and sunk into me. “Sometimes, I think you’re the only person who truly gets me,” he murmured into my hair.
We stayed like this for awhile. But then I felt it was getting a bit awkward, so I pulled away a bit. “Mike, if you really don’t want to go, then you don’t have to. I mean, I would really, really like it if you went with me, but I don’t want you to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
Mike studied me for a second or two. He finally smirked and narrowed his eyes at me, his good mood returning. “Okay, I’ll go, but on one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“You can’t make fun of me when you see me in my tux,”
“Mike!” I pushed him away, laughing. “Why would I make fun of you in your tux? You’re probably going to look so handsome that I’m going to pass out so I don’t even know why you would think I would make fun of you.”
“No, come back,” Mike whined, tugging on my arm. He placed one of my arms on his shoulder and indicated I should do the same with the other. Meanwhile, he put his arms around my waist and kissed me gently. So gently, I barely felt it.
It was one of those kisses you don’t really get to experience until you’ve been with someone for just over seven months. It was so subtle and so…dare I say it? – romantic.
Lucas may be in the next room, and Mike’s parents might just be around the corner, and there is dirty clothing on the floor, but none of that mattered. It was just Mike and I, swaying to some unheard song. I don’t even know when we started dancing. We just did.
It was a closeness I hadn’t felt with Mike until that very moment. I didn’t want to make out with him or fuck him or tease him or do anything other than stay here.
“Mike?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you,”
He looked down at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I love you, too.”
We laughed nervously, both surprised with ourselves. Mike was inching closer and my heart was pounding, though I wasn’t sure why. He kissed me again and pressed his forehead against mine.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
“Do you even hear what she is asking me to do, dad?” Mike asked, exiting his room and entering the living room. He stood directly in front of the television. Mike was being very obnoxious.
“Mike, get out of the way,” Mr. Carden said, trying in vain to see around Mike. “I’m missing Wheel of Fortune.”
“Dad, she wants me to go to prom,” Mike whined.
“Why are you being such a drama queen about this?” I asked. “It’s just prom. I’m not asking you to marry me; I’m asking you to go to prom with me.”
Mr. Carden, wishing to rid himself of Mike and I, did some very quick thinking. “Mike, I haven’t given you any advice for a very long time, and for that, I am sorry. But now, I feel you need some good, solid advice. So, man to man – go to prom.”
“Dad, you’re supposed to be on my side! Don’t take her side!”
“I am on your side. If you don’t go to prom with her, she’s probably going to hold it against you for the duration of your relationship and probably longer – am I right, Vivi?”
I nodded enthusiastically.
“And you do really want that?”
Lucas popped out of his bedroom. “Mike, just go with her. You’re lucky she’s even dating you. I don’t even know why you’re complaining.”
I grinned. Finally! Lucas isn’t scurrying away at the mere sight of me!
“But I have to get a tux,” Mike complained.
“Fucking Christ,” Mr. Carden muttered under his breath. “It’s not that I don’t like you guys, but can you please take this conversation elsewhere?”
I pulled Mike back into his room and Lucas ducked back into his. “Is this really about a tux, Mike? You can’t be serious,”
“I had a very traumatizing experience last time I got fitted for a tux,” Mike confessed, though by the tone of his voice, this wasn’t what his problem was. He was definitely hiding something, but I humored him nonetheless.
“Mike, I’m sure you had a very traumatizing experience and I’m not trying to minimize your pain, but sometimes the best way to get over traumatizing experiences is to face them again,”
“They kept poking me with pins,” he continued, sounding very childish. “I don’t like pins or needles or anything sharp and pokey.”
“But that was, what, nine years ago?” I offered a half smile. “I think it’s time to get over it.”
Mike didn’t respond. He merely shifted his weight nervously.
“It is about the tux, isn’t it?”
Mike looked pretty embarrassed and I recognized that, so I opened my mouth to say that he didn’t have to talk to me about it if he didn’t want to, but –
“It’s like every time I, you know, try to look nice or wear nice clothes or something, someone always has to give me shit about it. They’re always like, ‘Oh, Mike, who’re you trying to impress?’. I mean, why can’t they shut the fuck up about it? Why do they have to be an ass about it? You know? Like, why can’t I just look nice? Why is it such an ordeal?” he spewed out, speaking at top speed. “And it makes me never want to try to look nice, you know? Because I know someone’s going to give me shit about it. Someone’s gonna make an asshole comment about it. Like, I don’t want to deal with that.”
He paused and realized what he had just done. Mike is usually a very guarded person and very rarely lets anyone know that he actually has feelings. He nervously scratched his arm. “It’s stupid.”
“No, Mike, it’s really not,” I said quickly. “I get it. I really do. I’ve been there. It’s not stupid.”
I hugged him. I tried to put all of my sympathy and empathy and compliments into that hug because he needed it. For a moment, he remained rigid, very much Mike, but he suddenly let go, in a way, and sunk into me. “Sometimes, I think you’re the only person who truly gets me,” he murmured into my hair.
We stayed like this for awhile. But then I felt it was getting a bit awkward, so I pulled away a bit. “Mike, if you really don’t want to go, then you don’t have to. I mean, I would really, really like it if you went with me, but I don’t want you to do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
Mike studied me for a second or two. He finally smirked and narrowed his eyes at me, his good mood returning. “Okay, I’ll go, but on one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“You can’t make fun of me when you see me in my tux,”
“Mike!” I pushed him away, laughing. “Why would I make fun of you in your tux? You’re probably going to look so handsome that I’m going to pass out so I don’t even know why you would think I would make fun of you.”
“No, come back,” Mike whined, tugging on my arm. He placed one of my arms on his shoulder and indicated I should do the same with the other. Meanwhile, he put his arms around my waist and kissed me gently. So gently, I barely felt it.
It was one of those kisses you don’t really get to experience until you’ve been with someone for just over seven months. It was so subtle and so…dare I say it? – romantic.
Lucas may be in the next room, and Mike’s parents might just be around the corner, and there is dirty clothing on the floor, but none of that mattered. It was just Mike and I, swaying to some unheard song. I don’t even know when we started dancing. We just did.
It was a closeness I hadn’t felt with Mike until that very moment. I didn’t want to make out with him or fuck him or tease him or do anything other than stay here.
“Mike?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you,”
He looked down at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I love you, too.”
We laughed nervously, both surprised with ourselves. Mike was inching closer and my heart was pounding, though I wasn’t sure why. He kissed me again and pressed his forehead against mine.
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.