You Look Different in Real Life

didn’t tell anyone, then it didn’t have to be true. I can’t be gay, Justine. I just can’t.”
    “Why not?”
    Now, at last, Felix looks me in the eye. “Do you know what my dad would do? He would kick me out of the house. And my mom . . . she’d kill herself, if she didn’t die of a broken heart first.”
    “I think you’re being a little overdramatic.”
    “You don’t know what it’s like, with my family. We may as well be living in the eighteenth century when it comes to certain things.” Felix’s face takes on a sadness that’s so raw, so unself-conscious, it pierces me. “Then there’severyone else. The whole freaking world. You think I want to open myself up to that kind of persecution from total strangers?”
    “You could look at it a different way. If Lance and Leslie were aware of this, you’d be the focus of the film no matter how angry they were. It would be a great story. Inspirational, even.”
    Felix shakes his head, hard. “If I’m going to come out, it’s not going to be for public consumption. Even I’m not that much of a media whore.”
    I think back to that first question. That simple question, the one so basic, nobody thinks to ask it anymore. How can I help him? What will take him just one single step past this place? What will get him off this bench, to start?
    “Felix,” I say, trying to break this huge thing down into the smallest possible pieces. “Nobody’s asking you to come out. Not even to your parents. Why don’t you focus on coming out, you know, to yourself first.”
    Felix bows his head and stares at my hand on his knee, like he’s just noticing it. He puts his hand on top of mine.
    “I don’t know if I can.”
    “So what are you going to do, live in the closet for the rest of your life?”
    “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I guess I was still hoping I would . . . change.”
    This hope must be superstrong because I can actuallyfeel it, sitting on this park bench, vibrating off him. If hope can be depressing, that’s what this is.
    “Nate,” I add, still working on the puzzle in my head. “That’s the real reason why Nate stopped being friends with you.”
    Felix bites his lip. “Actually, no. I stopped being friends with him . I wouldn’t see him anymore or hang out with him. I sent him, like, a breakup letter on X-Men stationery.”
    Now I reach over and put my fingers under Felix’s chin, push it up so I can finally see his face straight on. “He didn’t dump you?”
    “No,” he says sadly, with a sigh. “I mean, he was definitely weirded out. But he had his own problems, as you know. He needed his friend. But I couldn’t . . .” Felix yanks his face out of my grasp and turns away again. “I’m the one who bailed on him when he was still getting tormented on a regular basis. It sucks having to live with that, in addition to this other thing it sucks having to live with.”
    I think back to the apple cider donut and the whole gesture changes. It didn’t come from hurt and loneliness but rather, guilt, and maybe a little self-preservation.
    “All this time, I hated him for ditching you,” I say. “And you let me.”
    “I guess I was too busy hating myself to correct you.”
    The music in the distance stops. It’s like a cue for something else to be said here, a cutaway or at the very least, achange in scene. A shift in the mood.
    I come up with this: “So now that we know we’re attracted to the same gender, you have to tell me. Butch or Sundance?”
    Felix actually laughs now. “I am so not telling you that.”
    “Come on. I’m with the Sundance Kid. All the way.”
    “Okay,” says Felix, biting his lip. “Me too.”
    Another pause. This feels like the right direction.
    “I think you should go back to the party and dance with those guys.”
    “That is very much not going to happen.”
    I look down at the camera, which is nestled in my lap. Felix follows my gaze.
    “No,” he says emphatically. “No way.”
    “Understood. But it’s here if you change your mind.”
    Felix nods and we sit in silence for a little while. Then he takes a deep breath and says, “We should go back. I’m worried about Rory.”
    “Yeah,” I say, “me too.”
    He stands up and offers his hand, which is the kind of macho thing Felix never does, but I don’t make a snarky comment about it. I just take it, and let him pull me back to where we came from.

TWENTY-TWO
    R ory is dancing. Not just dork-stepping with Nate as we left her,