Rick had Gerald and I sit beside each other in the back seat, just like with a real chauffeured prom date. As we approached the school, I said, "Rick, I really appreciate everything you're doing for us and all, but are you sure we're ready for this? I mean, us going together isn't like being asked to get beat up or anything, is it?"

"Naaah", Gerald said, leaning back to better enjoy the ride. "It's just two buddies going stag. We circle the room, dance with a few hot chicks, all the while secretly eyeing each other from across the dance floor. It'll be fun."

"I guess", I said, wishing that I had the guts to risk that beating for one slow dance with my beautiful boyfriend. As we neared the high school's driveway, with it's legion of formally attired young people milling about and wandering in, Rick did not slow down. In fact, he drove right past. "Rick? You do know that was my high school, right?" I turned to Gerald. "Your school doesn't have its formal tonight, does it?"

"Last weekend", he said.

"Where are you taking us, Rick?", I asked.

"To the real prom", he said cryptically. I sat back, a bit nervous and uncertain of what lay ahead.

We drove around for over half an hour as Rick obviously searched for someplace or something he didn't know the location of. We tooled out into the boonies and then circled back into the downtown area, then into the heights. Rick often slowed down, looking out his window at God only knows what, muttering things like "Nope, nope, that's not it" and "I was so sure about that one".

Finally, from the back seat I groaned, "Riiiiick, come ON, let's just go back to your place. I really want to dance with my boyfriend."

"Just a little bit longer, fellas. Bear with me. I'm sure this next stop will be it."

Gerald mumbled into his hand which cradled his chin, "That's what you said about that closed laundromat."

I sat up suddenly as an idea struck me. "Rick, you're not taking us to the retard prom, are you??"

Gerald looked at me askance. "What's that?"

"The retard prom!", I whined. "It's like this big urban legend joke thing that those kids who are losers, or mentally handicapped, or fat, pimply, or just plain stupid get sent to. It's like in the halls, you'd say, is Francine Frump going to the formal? And I'd be all, No, she's going to the Retard Prom."

"Harsh", Gerald said.

"Are we going to the Retard Prom?", I whined higher. "It's supposed to be hidden away so no one else gets infected by the lowlifes."

Without turning around, Rick said into the windshield, "What if I told you I found out it wasn't just an urban legend? And that it wasn't for retards?".

Soon we had driven deep into the heights past all landmarks that were familiar to me and into some shady looking areas. "Rick", I said, "please tell me you know where you're going." Gerald reached over and took my hand. A confidant look on his face made me feel a bit safer. Soon Rick had turned down a dimly-lit street and found an almost pitch-black alley. It was quite a ways down until we'd reached the end. I was pretty scared at this point.

"This is it", he announced. "We've arrived."

"I don't think this is anywhere", Gerald said. "No one else is here."

"Then how do you explain all the parked cars?", Rick asked. Both Gerald and I leaned forward against the front seat to peer out the front window. True enough, hidden in the darkness were multiple rows of tightly packed-in cars. We jumped as there was a rap on the side window. I jumped, letting out a small yelp.

Rick rolled down the window to be greeted by a massive man dressed all in black carrying a large handheld flashlight. He looked big enough to have his own zip code. His muscles were such that his clothing barely contained him. "C'n I hep you with sum'thing?", he rumbled.

Rick simply jerked a thumb to the backseat and the giant shone his flashlight on me and my date. The man's face split into something that I sincerely hoped was a smile. "Keys", was all he said next, and to my shock, Rick turned off the car and gave them to him. He opened Rick's door and Rick stepped out. Before getting in himself, he opened the side door for us boys and we tentatively got out. He looked down at us and touched the brim of his hat. "You gentlemen have a nice ev'nin." Then, into a small walkie-talkie he had clipped to his collar, he said, "Two guests an' chaperone." With that, he handed Rick what looked like a claim ticket, got behind the wheel and quietly drove Rick's car down to the end of the last row of cars.

Rick led us to the wall of the alley over grass, weeds, and gravel, to a nasty-looking metal door with a small slider window. Looking back at where we'd come from, I could almost make out the faint beams of at least three other flashlights stabbing their way around the gloom of the silhouetted cars. Wherever we were, they weren't hurting for security. Rick rapped on the door and the slider opened to reveal a pair of eyes. Gerald whispered in my ear, "Jesus, do you think he's taking us to a speakeasy??"

The mostly-concealed face behind the door said, "Pink triangle or rainbow flag?"

Rick was incredulous. "What, after all it took for me to find this place I have to know a frickin' password? Come on, open up. I got two of the most wonderful kids in the world out here and I think they've earned the right to a senior prom just like anybody else."

The eyes looked at him. "That's close enough", he said.

With that, the door opened and Rick ushered us inside. I could feel the air pressure in the room change as Gerald and I gasped. The room was immaculate. High ceilings, lighting just bright enough to be more welcoming than a nightclub. Tables adorned with red cloths and fine settings littered the right-hand side of the room, a small bar was set up in the left-hand corner. The majority of the room was taken up by a dance floor. A dj was spinning mix hits of the day, interjecting bits of humor between discs that were actually funny. A mirrored ball rotated above the dance floor, casting sparkles of starlight around the room. A handful of waiters bustled about, bringing to various couples drinks and desserts, all of which seemed nonalcoholic and parentally approved.

The couples were few but lively, having an air of freedom and joy that was seldom seen anywhere, much less at the normally tense setting of prom. That might be due to the nature of the couples. Boy-boy, boy-boy, girl-girl, boy-boy, girl-girl, boy-boy, and even two exceedingly rare couples of the boy-girl variety. About two dozen couples in all. There was a sense of happiness in the room, and laughter was the appropriate response.

The room was decorated with endless strings of Christmas lights of six colors, pink streamers, and countless balloons and confetti. Along the far wall beside the dance floor stood six silver mannequins in full tuxedo. The first tuxedo was entirely red, including shirt, tie, shoes, everything. The second mannequin's tux was orange, then yellow, green, blue, then purple. Gerald and I looked to Rick, our astonishment beyond words.

"Welcome to the secret Gay Prom festivities, fellas!", Rick crowed. "I'm gonna join the other chaperones", he pointed to a smattering of a few parents and teachers lingering in the shadows, "and try to stay out of sight until the end of the evening."

I was flabbergasted. "Rick, I--I--my God in heaven, I don't know what to--this is--wow!"

"Sorry I couldn't get you kids here earlier, but they do keep the time and location of this event pretty hush-hush, for obvious reasons. Go enjoy what's left of the night!"

Not missing a beat, Gerald took me by the hand. "Dance with me, boyfriend."

They played a vintage '80s mix. Gerald and I danced like maniacs to Kenny Loggins, Michael Jackson, the Go-Gos, A-Ha, Soft Cel, Nena, and a host of others. When we slow danced to Sheriff's "When I'm With You", a couple leapt upon a small elevated stage set upon one end of the dance floor and danced for the crowd as if they were performing in a music video. Gerald and I bopped to Cyndi Lauper's "She-Bop", exchanging glances and smiles with other cute boy couples all in the swing of things. There were refreshments and snacks, but I don' think we ever stopped grooving beneath the flashing lights long enough to partake of any.

We slipped aside briefly to have our picture taken. The photographer's setup was pretty smart. A few pretty girls in formal wear were on hand to pose with each guy for one mock photo to be taken home to those parents either less accepting or uninformed of their son's sexuality. Any given guy in the place was delighted to lend a hand and pose with any of the girl-girl couples. Photos were processed on site, so Gerald and I each would go home with one photo of the two of us, and one of ourselves and a female prom date.

As the night wound down, Gerald and I slow danced to Spandau Ballet's "True". Arms around each other's shoulders, foreheads together, we spun in lazy circles directly beneath the mirrored globe.

"You know what?", I said.

"What", Gerald whispered.

"This is the first time I've ever been to a formal dance where I actually cared about impressing my date."

Gerald let out a deep sigh. "Well, you are impressive." And tenderly, we kissed.

Out front, at around one in the morning, the mighty muscled-parking attendant pulled the car up and handed Rick his keys as the engine idled. "Sir. Thank-ya fer coming. Hope you boys had a good time. Drive safe."

"Rick", I said, "thanks for taking us here. This was beyond anything I could've hoped for. I actually had a real senior prom."

"Yeah", Gerald agreed. "This was the best. It couldn't have been a better night. Going to the prom with my boyfriend and not having to worry about what anyone else in the room might think about us. I had such a good time."

I looked at Gerald. "Boyfriend?"

He interlaced his fingers into mine and held tight. "Yeah. Boyfriend." We kissed again, and my hands began to move as if of their own accord, reaching up to cradle this beautiful boy's face--

"Okay, break it up", Rick said. "Get in the car before I have to get you a room."

Gerald and I snuggled in the car all the way home. I sat with my arms around him and he continually nuzzled against my neck, occasionally kissing me there. Even after all that dancing, he smelled divine. Rick remained silent the entire ride back. Though once or twice I caught him eyeing us in the rearview mirror. He was always smiling.

That Monday after the prom weekend, I was still flying high. I pretty much levitated to each stop on my paper route and completed my deliveries in a fraction of my usual time. I had long since rearranged the order of my route so that I always ended at Rick's door. I knocked, ready to tell him for the millionth time how much I appreciated the prom, what a great time I had.

Rick opened the door, looking somber. "Dickie. Come on in."

I followed Rick inside, casting my paper bag into a corner by the door. "Dickie", Rick said to me, "I have something important to tell you. You have done a super, super job helping me out with all the modeling work and I greatly appreciate the time we've spent together. You have been a great help and an even better friend. I'm proud to have known you."

"Wait a minute", I said. "This is what people say when they're about to break up. You're not breaking up with me, are you?", I smiled.

Rick let out a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. It was then that I noticed the state of the apartment. Number 37 actually looked clean. The clutter that was usually strewn about on the counters, tabletops, and Rick's desk were swept away. The photo backdrop and lights were put away, somewhere. The walls were devoid of posters and prints. This was more than just cleaning. This was packing.

"What's going on, Rick? You're not being annoyed or tired serious, you're being There's-something-I-wish-I-didn't-have-to-tell-you serious."

"Dickie, you and Gerald have done so much for me, and it hasn't gone unnoticed, either by me or by my superiors, who all think--"

"Cut to the chase!", I yelled.

"Dickie, I've been offered a job. A big job. An important job. It'll be a lot like doing what I've been doing, only a hundred times more so, with an extraordinary increase in pay."

"You're leaving, aren't you?", I said.

"Yeah, Dickie, I am. I owe a lot of it to you, you know. Your photographs really made quite an impression on a lot of people."

"Remind to screw it up next time." Then, looking for some glimmer of hope, I asked, "You'll stay in touch though, won't you? You'll call, you'll write--"

"I'll travel", he said. "I'll travel a lot. A lot more than readily allows you to stay in contact on any kind of a regular basis. I will be assigned to one location eventually--"

"And we can hook up then!", I glowed. "We can play catch-up, fill each other in on our different adventures while we were apart. That could be fu--"

"I'll be living in Milan, Dickie", he said with finality. "I know Geography isn't really your thing, but I trust you know that means I won't exactly be local."

I stood there, trying to process it all. "When were you planning on telling me?"

"I only just found out this morning."

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "When do you have to--?"

"Tonight. I'm on a plane by ten." Rick pointed to some oversized cardboard boxes stacked in the doorway to his bedroom. "Most of the costumes are in there. You can have them. I won't need them anymore. I'm having the movers drop them off at your house later this afternoon."

I groped for something to say. "You can't even stay until my graduation?"

Rick came over and hugged me. "I'm sorry, Dickie, I really am. But I did what I came here to do. Now I really have to go."

I rubbed the tears from my eyes and said, "Just hang on a minute." I went to the bedroom, shoving the boxes out of the way. A few minutes later, I walked back out dressed in my red rubber sweatshirt, crisp blue denim bib overalls and red boots. "If I'm gonna see you off", I told him, "I'm not going to do it wearing a disguise. I want it to be as the real me." We embraced again, I told him how much I loved him, he said he felt the same way about me.

I picked up my empty paper bag and tossed it into the one cardboard box I'd left open. Then I picked up the yellow-and-blue bibs and boots outfit and threw it over one arm. I held it up for Rick to see. "For Gerald."

"You hang on to that boy", Rick told me. "He's a good guy."

I nodded. "I know." I stood tall, and as I reached the doorway to number 37, I said, "Thank-you, Rick. For everything."

"I didn't do anything", Rick said. "You did it all yourself."

I smiled, knowing it was pointless to debate him, and turned to leave my mentor behind. As I walked down the hallway, Rick stuck his head out the door and said, "Hey, Dickie! Walking down the streets in that getup, people might think you're a fag."

"Let 'em", I said back. "They can think what they want. I know who I am." Rick nodded, smiling softly.

I walked slowly all the way home, waving and greeting with a smile all those I knew and many I did not.

That evening Gerald and I decided to see Rick one last time by helping him box up and move out the last of his stuff. I in my red rooted outfit and Gerald in his yellow, we rode on our bikes like the wind over to the apartment. As we bounded up the stairs, we asked Mrs. Kowalski, as she passed with an overflowing laundry basket, if she'd seen and moving vans coming or going. She had not. But she thought our boots were cute.

Gerald and I stopped at the door to number 37 and stood staring. The door was wide open, the apartment empty, picked clean from floor to ceiling. I looked at my watch. It was only 7:30.

"Maybe he caught an earlier flight", Gerald offered.

"He's gone", I sighed. "I don't have my mentor anymore."

I felt Gerald's fingers interlace with mine, and he brought our hands up to his chest. "You have me."

Rick was back in his second apartment, this time for good. He wouldn't be going back to number 37, ever. He roamed the apartment alone. Always alone. His time with Dickie was over and he knew he'd never see the paper boy again. It was late, the apartment was dark, lit as usual by the sole blue light Rick always left burning since this whole adventure began.

But now the light was growing dim. The glow was faint, as if the power source behind it was running dry. It had been burning for some time.

Rick walked up and down the hallways, taking in the now extensive collection of framed prints and photographs from his sessions with Dickie. There was Dickie the sewer worker, Dickie the superhero, Dickie the farmboy. Further down the hallway was Dickie and Gerald as twin country boys, wrestling in the hay. Dickie and Gerald as Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum. The two of them in matching sewer gear trudging through a backwash of gunk and mire. The photo was not of the same quality of the others, and it was immediately clear that it was not Rick's handiwork. A second glance showed the two boys looked a little bit older than Rick remembered them. Scrawled on a small label at the base of the photo was the inscription: "Summer Job, right after graduation. Ger & Me". Rick had no memory of that. But perhaps he would soon.

Shortly the light was too dim to see in the hallway and Rick made his way to the bedroom. He opened up the sliding door to his closet to find his wardrobe had doubled in size. Out of curiosity, he looked for the red and blue farmboy outfit he had given to Dickie but did not see it hanging up. A bit more digging uncovered it folded neatly in the bottom drawer of a nearby dresser. Both it and its twin were there, in beautiful shape, showing very little signs of wear. Or use.

Rick returned to the closet and among some very nice clothes (mostly from International Male by the look of them) was the sewer worker's gear. No, two sets of gear. No, wait---four? Rick didn't recall getting this many sets of the gear for himself. Two sets were worn, faded, showing a great deal of time was spent using them to their fullest. The next two pair were highly polished and shiny, both still slightly slick to the touch from a recent polishing. On the shelf just above them rested two scuffed and dinged hardhats, both yellow, now marred with dirt and grime. Rick rubbed his forehead, trying to place where the second had come from. Oh, well.

As he turned around, Rick saw two pairs of tall rubber knee boots set neatly at the foot of the bed. Neither was red, but one he could clearly make out, even in the fading light, was electric blue. Rick grinned.

Then Rick walked over to the bureau, where the fast-fading light was coming from. Next to the soft blue glow was a silver-framed prom picture. Standing side by side were Dickie and Gerald, in their tuxedoes with matching boutonnieres, smiling with a joy that surpassed description. Seeing that photo brought back to Rick a feeling of great happiness. That's right, he had gotten those two kids to their very own real senior prom. It was quite an accomplishment and it was quite a night. For all of them.

Rick reached for the glowing blue light and picked it up. It was in the shape of a gold pocket watch, but twice the size. Engraved upon its face were images representative of time. Not only a sun and a moon, but a sundial, hourglass, and what looked like a paper calendar. The engraving was small, so Rick couldn't make it all out. Where had he gotten this thing, again? Rick stared at it. Even as it grew dim, there was something about the light, something almost hypnotic, soothing. He shook his head, disrupting its effects.

As he set it down, he noticed that underneath it was a business card. The card had been printed with some type of metallic ink, that through the process of thermography made the letters raised. Rick held the card beside the softly glowing blue pocket watch-lamp and read:

LANDLORD'S PIECE OF TIME

Science So Advanced It Seems Like Magic

* * * * *

Travel back to a time in your life you wish to relive or revise.

Alter Your Past ~ Improve Your Future

"Destiny is a matter of choice."

exclusive clientele * exorbitant fees * worth every penny * worth every second

Rick scrunched his brow. Where had this come from? He seemed to recall picking it up several months back, or had it been given to him? It was so hard to recall, and the more he dwelled on it, the more elusive (and frankly, less important) the memory became.

As Rick set the card back down, he noticed a newspaper clipping that had also been laying nearby the glowing blue watch. It was from the local paper of a neighboring town. The article heading read "MAN MURDERED OUTSIDE NOTORIOUS GAY BAR". The column told of a man in his early twenties who was attacked when leaving a gay club in an unsavory part of town. The young man, dressed only in yellow fireman's boots, firefighter's coat, and very little else, was severely beaten by at least two assailants and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. There were no witnesses. Clues at the scene were scarce. Authorities believed any investigation would prove pointless, as the man had no known friends or companions to provide any leads.

Rick squinted in the fading light to read the name of the victim, but was distracted as the watch-lamp fizzled, let out a small spray of blue sparks, and went dark with a tiny wisp of silver smoke.

A light clicked on.

I turned around to see him, lying there in our bed. His hair was darker now that he had gotten a bit older, but it suited him. He was still beautiful, and I knew he always would be, regardless his age.

"Hey, babe, you comin' to bed?", Gerald asked.

"Yeah, sweetie", I said to him. "I was just doing some stuff."

"What", he asked, "could be so important to keep you from jumping into bed with your boyfriend?"

I smiled. The bedside lamp illuminated the room far better than the blue novelty light. I could see the pictures from all our trips, our incredible Halloween parties, the framed newspaper article about the opening of our graphics house, our commitment ceremony photos. At the end of the bed, standing sentinel as they did every night, were our favorite rubber boots. My electric blues next to his canary yellows. I noticed a weight on my left hand and looked down to see a simple gold band on my ring finger. I paused. I had been holding something in that hand, hadn't I? An article or clipping or something, wasn't it? I looked on the floor and saw that I had not dropped it. It had simply vanished. Oddly, I took this as the natural order of things. Whatever it was, if it was important, it'd turn up.

"Ger, honey, where did we get this--", I turned around to the novelty lamp to find it gone. In it's place was a simple circular reading lamp. 40 high intensity watts. White bulb. Huh.

Gerald threw back the sheets and said, "Who cares about your lousy taste in bedroom decor, Dickie. Get your hunky naked ass into bed with me."

I looked down and saw I was indeed naked. And my body looked fantastic. Having a loving partner to do your workouts with really helped. I leapt into bed beside the love of my life and slid right into him. "Ahh. Rubber sheets. Rubber blanket."

"In case my adorable baby Dickie wets himself during the night." He kissed me.

I snuggled up beside him. "I tolllld you, don't call me Dickie. You know how it puts off the clients. I go by Rick now."

He began to nibble on my ear. "To me, you'll always be my Dickie. G'night."

I put my arm around him and kissed my lover on the side of the head. We slept soundly, and for whatever reason, I felt an extraordinary sense of peace and contentment. Even pride. As if everything in my life had turned out just as it was always meant to.