Though the curtain was drawn, my nerves weren't.

The fall concert had finally come around, though nothing else in my life seemed to have fallen in place with it, and coupled with the what I was about to do to try to win George back, I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life—including all of my previous performances. Nothing could have stacked up how I felt in that moment, nothing at all.

Most of the kids had already shown up, unpacked their instruments, and were on their way to their first performance. I could only imagine how nervous they must’ve been, and I was sure that my nerves showing through wasn't helping, but there was nothing I could do to fix them. We had practiced the piece several times, run through it until we were sick of it, but it still felt like it wasn’t enough, like we could’ve done more.

Despite myself, I peeked out through the curtain and almost immediately passed out. There were nearly a hundred people already gathered in the auditorium, and that was only half of the seats filled. There were sure to be more as we drew closer to time for the performance to start, and that was the first time I was struck by what I was about to do.

It was crazy, absolutely crazy, but I figured there were only extremes I could operate in right now. The only way I'd get George back was if I showed him just how sorry I was for the way I'd behaved and the way I'd thrown him aside.

With Emily’s help, we'd cooked up all kinds of different ideas, until finally, we settled on the most simple one. Before the concert started, before we took things off in earnest, I would pull out my guitar and play a simple song. We'd tried writing different songs, but nothing fit the way that I wanted to, so, in the end, I'd decided to ape Dan’s song that he wrote for Jason. It would be a double punch, serving two purposes. First, it would say everything I wanted to say but didn’t have the words for, and second, it would go right to George’s heart. He would recognize the tune almost instantly, no doubt about it, and with Parker there along with me, he would have no choice but to forgive me.

Or so I hoped.

“Everything okay?” a voice asked behind me, startling me and making me pull my head back inside the curtain. I turned to find Parker there, his hands in his pockets. He was in a crisp dress shirt and black slacks, which I assumed George must’ve bought for him just for the concert—but just seeing him there was enough to calm my nerves a little bit. Worst case scenario, George wouldn't miss all this. It wouldn’t have been for nothing.

“It’s much better now that I see you here,” I said. I had asked Parker to come a little early, but he hadn’t, and I started to worry that the whole thing was going to fall apart before it even started. Luckily for me, there he was, and he looked excited.

“Are you ready for this?” Parker asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. But I’m going to need your help to get through it,” I said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I might choke up,” I laughed, and Parker laughed along with me.

“Don’t worry, Clay; it’s going to be fine. I talked to my dad; he’s gonna have some words to say himself,” Parker said.” I didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t know what Parker could have said to George, but it didn’t ease my nerves. Whatever it was, it might not have been good; it might have made my chances even worse.

“Have you practiced?” I asked.

“Yeah, a little bit here and there, but it was hard to practice it with Dad around. You know, I wanted to keep it a secret, like you asked,” Parker said. I hadn’t thought about that before I’d asked him to rehearse the piece. It would be hard to pick out being played on a drum, but if he listened closely enough, George no doubt would've put two and two together.

“Do you think he heard?” I asked. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise because that predicated everything else.

“No, I don’t think so. I tried my best not to practice in the house, or at least not when he was home,” Parker said.

“Good, perfect. Okay, so are we gonna do this?” I asked, my hands shaking.

“Yes, we're going to do this. It’s going to be fine, trust me,” Parker said, and before I could get another word out, he threw his arms around me and pulled me into the tightest bear hug I'd ever felt. His size wasn’t just for looks; he did have some power behind him. I hugged him back, thankful more than anything else that he hadn’t turned away from me when I'd broken things off with George, that we'd been able to find some awkward but bearable equilibrium in the meantime.

If it'd been me, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do the same thing. Most of us didn’t give Parker the benefit of the doubt when it came to dealing with stressful situations, but somehow, it always ended up being him who saved us from ourselves. Maybe it’s not always the kids who need to shut up and listen—sometimes it’s the adults.

I didn’t have any reasonable fear left in me. Parker approved, Emily approved and had helped me cooked up the entire thing, and George was going to be in attendance. Everything so far had gone exactly as planned; the only thing left was to make sure I didn’t screw it up.

“Thank you so much for your help, Parker. You have no idea how much I appreciate it,” I said. “I don’t think I could pull this off without you.”

“Yeah, I know, you’re just like my dad. Don’t worry about it; we'll see this through,” Parker said as he released me and pat me on the back.

“Okay, go get into position, and tell everyone else to get ready,” I said. I checked my watch and found that it was a quarter to seven, just before the start of the concert. I couldn’t wait to get this over with, couldn’t wait to get behind the microphone and my guitar. Everything else would disappear, melt away into the music that would do all the talking for me. It was a good thing I hadn’t planned to speak much, because, in my current state, I doubted I could get out coherent words in the first place.

The clatter of kids moving around on the stage overwhelmed my thoughts, and I watched everyone take their seats and set up their instruments. We'd done a lot of hard work in preparation for this concert, and coupled with the number of things I was dealing with in my personal life, it was kind of surprising that we were able to pull it all together in time. The kids were not nearly as bad at music is some of the staff made them out to be, which was encouraging, and as I stood there staring at them, for the first time in my life I felt proud of one of my accomplishments.

No matter how I sliced it, this concert was one of my accomplishments. This band, this concert, this entire music program at Beauclaire High, would never have come together if it weren’t for me. It didn't matter what else happened, at least I could walk away with my head held high about that.

“How’s everyone feeling?” I asked from the podium as I slipped out my conductor’s baton and set it on the music stand in front of me that one of the students had already set up.

“Nervous,” Derek said from the back, and the rest of the band laughed and nodded along. I couldn’t blame them, they'd probably never done anything like this before, but I didn’t know what to say. I could tell them to calm down, not to worry, but I knew it wouldn’t work because I was such a mess myself. Who would be inclined to believe me?

“If it makes you guys feel any better, so am I,” I said with a smile. “But it’s okay to be nervous sometimes. Sometimes being nervous lets us get in touch with our actual feelings and power through to do something we might never have done in the first place,” I said.

“Thanks, Mr. Johnson,” Parker called from the back. “We could never have done any of this without you.” Suddenly, a round of applause went up from the band for me, and I almost burst into tears. I didn’t realize that I'd made such an impression on these kids, but I was grateful that I had, even though it had only been a couple of months since the start of the school year.

“Okay, gang, we're getting down to the wire here. Does everyone have their music out? Is everyone all tuned up and ready to go?” I asked. The band responded with a chorus of nods and mumbled agreement, and I knew then that there was no going back. We were going to have to see this through, one way or the other, and whatever would be, would be.

The worst thing that could happen, as I'd repeatedly been telling myself, was that George could say no.

“Everyone clear on what we're doing when the curtain comes up?” I asked. We'd already rehearsed it several times earlier that day during class, but I just wanted to be sure. I wanted everything to be perfect.

“Yes, we're ready to go. We're behind you a hundred percent,” Parker said.

"All right, then let’s do this,” I said, and without another word, I turned and went to the front of the stage, just behind the curtain. The acoustic guitar had been set up on a stand for me already, previously tuned and ready to go. I picked it up, hoisted the strap over my head, and sat swaying side to side in nervousness waiting for the curtain to part. There was a microphone, which I adjusted to my height, and when a hush fell through the room beyond the curtain, I knew it was time.

The lights went dark outside the curtain and came alive behind it, illuminating the band and me, and I strummed out a gentle cord on the guitar to get everyone in the audience’s attention. The curtain flew open, revealing us to loud and raucous applause, and almost instantly the nervousness I'd been feeling cleared like the curtain had swept it away.

Performance was my element, what I was born to do, and the man I wanted to be with was in the audience and waiting for me to make up for my mistakes.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining us here at Beauclaire High,” I said over the noise of the applause. “My name is Clay Johnson. I’m the new music director here at the high school. Over the last few months, I’ve had the privilege of working with some of Beauclaire's best, brightest, and most talented, and I can’t wait to share what we’ve been working on with you,” I said to more applause. I waited a few moments, looking out over the audience for George without finding him, while the audience calmed down.

“But before I get started, there’s a little something I need to say,” I said. The applause died almost immediately, and the members of the audience looked around at each other.

“This is a little untraditional, so I apologize in advance, but I needed to say it. Sometimes, life has a funny way of working out. Sometimes being honest is the best thing we can do for ourselves and each other. So, I think I need to be honest with you as an audience and with myself,” I said, and the audience had gone so quiet I could hear my breathing in the microphone. They must not have had any idea what I was about to say, but they couldn’t wait anyway.

“There are a lot of other words I could say, a lot I want to say, but I think the music will speak for itself. This song isn’t an original piece, but it is one that is close to my heart, and I know at least a few of you will recognize it. Feel free to hum along if it moves you,” I said and strummed out the first cord before counting down backward for the band.

We hit the rhythm immediately, and I saw glee light up on people’s faces as they recognized the song as the one that Dan had performed for Jason. But the face I noticed first and foremost was George’s. He stood leaning against the back wall. He was crying, and a smile was on his face, and it gave me all the encouragement I needed. He might not say yes when this was all over, he might tell me that it was too little too late, but I at least had his attention.

By the time we finished the song, almost everyone in the audience was either crying, cheering, or both—including George. I stepped back up to the microphone and cleared my throat, never letting my eyes break contact with George's.

“I see some of you recognized the song. There’s a reason we decided to play that first tonight, and I think I should elaborate on that a little bit. Some of you may know a man by the name of George Smith, the owner of Second Chances bar and grill here in town. What you might not know about George is that he and I were dating for a little while,” I said. The whistle that went through the audience as they all turned to find George standing at the back of the room with his hands crossed over his chest was almost deafening. George had turned beet red and was shaking his head, silently begging me to stop, but I wasn't about to let up now.

“He’s a wonderful guy with a big heart and a great sense of humor. Unfortunately, I decided those things weren’t worth more to me than my job, so I told George I couldn’t keep seeing him,” I said.

“But lucky for me, his son, Parker, who you can see playing percussion here in the band with me, beat some sense into me about as well as he beats his drum. You know, I’ve never been the best judge of things, something that's been shown to me recently,” I said to laughter. “I know this is a little over-the-top, but if a band isn't over-the-top, they're doing something wrong. So, I thought I'd take this opportunity while we're all gathered here to celebrate music and connection to apologize to George and to ask him to take me back."

Silence hung in the room, hands clapped over mouths, and before I knew it was happening, George was running toward the stage. In one swift motion, he jumped up onto it, threw his arms around me, and smashed his lips into mine. That was the only answer I needed, the only thing I needed to know that everything would be okay. Of all the applause that rang in my ears as we continued to kiss, Parker’s was loudest, coupled with his shouting and whistling.

When we broke, Parker didn’t wait. He came running toward the front of the stage and hugged both of us, snuggling his head in between our bodies. I rubbed his head with my hand and kissed George again.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “There’s nothing else I can say.”

“There’s nothing else you need to say,” George said. “But you know, you didn’t have to do all this,” he said, and I laughed.

“Probably not, but I teach music. I don’t know how else to express myself,” I said. “So does this mean you forgive me?"

“Are you kidding me? I couldn’t stay mad at you even if I wanted to. You weren't the only one who got a stern talking to from Parker,” George said, glaring down at his son.

“Well thank God for him, right?” I asked. “At least one of the three of us had some sense.”

“Yeah, just wait until his mother hears about all this, she's going to lose it,” George said, and the three of us laughed over the audience, which was still cheering.

It was surreal to be standing up there with Parker and George, the two men who'd weaseled their way into my life and stuck in my heart in front of the entire town more or less, but at the same time, it felt the most natural thing in the world.

Inside both of their arms was where I belonged, where I'd always belonged without ever even knowing it. We'd found and made a home together with each other, and I never wanted to let that go, not for anyone or anything.

I glanced out over at the audience and saw Emily standing toward the back of the room, on her chair, screaming at the top of her lungs and clapping so hard that I was amazed her fingers didn’t break. If even Emily could show her appreciation for our relationship, then what did I ever have to fear in the first place?

“Does this mean you guys are going to like, get married or whatever?” Parker asked, and I burst out laughing.

“Well, let’s not put the cart before the horse, son,” George said and ruffled Parker’s hair.

“It might not be too far ahead of the horse though,” I said, and George looked back at me with his eyes wide.

“What are you saying?”

“Exactly what I mean. I love you, and I don’t ever want to be without you again,” I said.

“You won’t be,” George said. “But I’d better get off this stage and let you finish the concert before we give the crowd an entirely different type of show,” he continued, and Parker groaned.

“You two are disgusting; you know that?” Parker asked.

George’s laughter filled my ear and swelled my heart, his facial hair bristling against my cheek.

In his arms, I was home.