The Millbrook County Fair was the social event of the summer. Everyone went: farmers, teachers, teenagers looking for excuses to make out behind the livestock barns. It was tradition, it was Americana, it was deeply, deeply heteronormative.
"Step right up, win a prize for your girl!" the carnies called. "Show your lady how strong you are!" "Romantic ride on the Ferris wheel, perfect for couples!"
Jesse and I walked through it all, holding hands, daring anyone to say something. Most people didn't. A few stared. One older man muttered something under his breath that I didn't catch, and Jesse squeezed my hand tighter.
"Want to ride the Ferris wheel?" he asked.
"It's for couples," I said, mimicking the carnie's pitch.
"Good thing we're a couple, then."
We got in line. The teenage operator, a kid from our school named Brad who had once called me a fag in the locker room, looked at us with undisguised confusion.
"Two?" he asked.
"Two," Jesse confirmed, stepping into the car and pulling me in after him.
The ride started. We rose above the fair, the lights of the midway spreading out below us like a galaxy. At the top, the car paused, swaying slightly in the breeze.
"Look," Jesse said, pointing.
I looked. The whole town spread out before us—the church where I had been baptized, the school where I had learned to hide, the houses where our parents slept, the roads that led to other places, bigger places, places where maybe we wouldn't have to be so brave all the time.
"It's beautiful," I said.
"It's home," Jesse said. "For now. But not forever."
"No. Not forever."
He turned to me, his face illuminated by the carnival lights. "I love you, Charlie Brennan. I love you in this town and in every town. I love you visible and hidden, brave and scared. I just love you."
"I love you too," I said, and kissed him, right there at the top of the Ferris wheel, where half of Millbrook could see if they bothered to look up.
No one cheered. No one threw things. The world didn't end. It just kept turning, indifferent to our small rebellion, and that was somehow more perfect than any dramatic acceptance could have been.