If Only You Knew by Denene Millner

for dragging him out of the closet, but he was getting over it. Kinda.
    â€œUh, hey, Donald, how you been?” Sydney stammered. “It’s, um, good to see you. Lauren, can I talk to you for a minute?” she said, pulling her sister’s arm.
    â€œCan’t this wait a minute? I’m just trying to catch up with my old friend,” Lauren said, forcing a smile to her face.
    â€œI’m sorry. I know this is the first time you’re seeing Donald since his, um, return, but it’s really important,” Sydney insisted, her grip tightening around Lauren’s elbow.
    â€œWhoa, cowgirl, just give me a couple more minutes to visit with my girl, and then she’s all—” Donald stopped his words cold and then started grinning like a giggly schoolgirl. He waved his hand wildly and motioned someone to come over. Before Lauren and Sydney could get a good read of who Donald’s friend was, he’d already bounded across the rehearsal room and fallen into Donald’s arms.
    â€œI’m so glad you made it—it’s great to see you!” the boy practically shouted. By now, the music in the room stopped playing, the choir members and their various clingers-on had stopped talking—hell, the birds outside stopped chirping.
    â€œIt’s good to see you, too, baby,” Donald exclaimed. He leaned in and gave the boy a lingering kiss on the cheek, then grabbed his hand and swung it back and forth a few times. The collective gasp changed the air pressure in the room. Sydney and Lauren, eyes furrowed, looked at each other and then back at Donald, like he was a brother from another planet.
    â€œLauren? I want you to meet Dennis. Dennis Brooks. I met him at Trinity—he’s my ex-roommate’s brother. Goes to Morehouse. Isn’t he cute?”
    â€œUh, nice to meet you, er, Dennis,” Lauren said, shaking his hand, alternately staring at Dennis and her sister.
    â€œIt’s so nice to finally meet you,” Dennis said, giving Lauren’s hand a tight squeeze. “Donald’s told me so much about you.”
    â€œReally? Because he didn’t tell me anything about you,” Lauren said quizzically.
    â€œOh, and this is Sydney,” Donald said, less enthusiastically.
    â€œAh, yes, Sydney,” Dennis said, mirroring Donald’s weak wave.
    Sydney didn’t bother to reply.
    â€œOkay, everybody, showtime,” the choir director said, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. Clearly oblivious to the drama, he started directing the altos to the rear, the sopranos to the front, the baritones to the middle. “Let’s go people!” he shouted, looking at his watch. “Let’s not keep the organist waiting!”
    Donald turned back to his audience, not really caring about the attention he and his “friend” were drawing. “Okay, look, Lauren, I’m going to say this only once: Go get your man and stop caring about what everybody else says about it.” Just as suddenly, Donald snapped his fingers. “Or maybe you can bring him to you!”
    â€œDonald, what the hell are you talking about?” Lauren asked, clearly confused.
    â€œBring him to you. You know, invite him to the party.”
    â€œWhat party?” Lauren asked.
    â€œCome on, sweetie, the Thanksgiving soiree at the lake house. What party? The party I haven’t gotten an invitation to yet but plan to attend anyway. That party.” Donald laughed. “And speaking of which, just where the hell is my invitation?”
    â€œWait, how do you know about our party? We just got permission to have the party and haven’t even begun to think about invitations yet, much less who to invite.”
    â€œDon’t you worry about how I found out. Donald knows everything—didn’t you get the memo?”
    â€œGod, Donald…”
    â€œAnyway,” Donald said. “Invite him to the holiday party. Let