Queer Greer

by A J Walkley

  My hands started sweating, laying there beside her. Our legs were touching, our arms in the same position, cushioning our heads. I glanced over at her at one point, in between bits of conversation. The lack of light made me feel more confident, like a mask almost. Leaning up on one elbow, I caught her eye. She gave me that heart-stopping half-smile of hers and without second-guessing myself, I bent over and kissed her. A real kiss, no uncertainty. It was heaven.

  Her mouth tasted like the green tea ice cream we had shared not long before. Her lips were so feathery-soft, I couldn’t keep my own off of them. Our tongues danced with each other, beginning with an elegant waltz, easing into a slow swing and hitting the crescendo with a salsa. As we hit the zenith, I pulled her closer, feeling her body mold against my own. I have never felt so sexy, so alive, so electric as I did then.

  When we broke away after almost an hour, we started laughing. I was shaking with giggles so much that I nearly fell off the car, Becca having to reach out and steady me once again. That only made us laugh more.

  She pulled me into her arms and for the first time, I laid my head on her chest and folded around her. It felt like home. I know that I’ve heard that before or read that before, but this was when I realized what that meant. That is the only way to describe it. I didn’t want to go.

  “Come on,” she said not long after. “I should get you home.” Responsible Becca, she knew my curfew was 11:00 – even if I was thinking of missing it just that once.

  Our date ended in her car in front of my house. I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t want to seem over-eager, either. I told her I’d talk to her soon, giving her a giant, goofy smile before heading for my door.

  ***

  Flyers and posters had been up for the past month and a half for the annual Halloween Dance. I had never gone to any in Charleston, too worried about my dancing skills, or lack thereof. But Cameron wanted to go and, at that point, I was sure he’d suspect something if I told him I didn’t want to.

  I couldn’t risk that.

  “It’s our first dance as a couple, G! We don’t have to stay that long, but let’s at least go for a few songs, okay?”

  “Who else is going to this?” I asked, my eyes on the TV screen in Cam’s basement. Fight Club was on.

  “Um, nobody I guess.”

  “Brian? Liza? No one?” I paused the movie to look at him.

  “No, they thought it was too lame. I mean, everyone knows only freshmen go.”

  “So, if that’s true, why do you want us to go?” I asked.

  “Well, I just figured –”

  “Cam, would you want to go if you knew anyone there?”

  He bit his lip and took the remote control from my hand, unpausing the television.

  “Unbelievable,” I said before getting up to leave.

  “No, Greer, don’t go. It’s not like that.”

  Cam stood up fast and knocked his knee on the glass coffee table in front of him.

  “Fuck! No, listen. It’s not you.”

  “Then what gives?” I stood my ground, pushing his hand away when he tried to put it on my shoulder.

  He was silent.

  “Geez, Cam. This is so stupid. You can’t play guitar because your friends will think you’re a geek. You can only go to lame school dances when your friends aren’t there. Do you see the pattern here?”

  “I know, I’m sorry, but, like I said-”

  “’It is what it is?’ Whatever. I’m out.”

  I picked up my backpack and left, slamming his sliding door shut behind me.

  I’m not going to that pathetic dance if that’s the way he sees it, I thought.

  I called Becca while I made my way back home and got her voicemail.

  “You’ve got Becs! You know the drill!”

  “Hey, it’s me. You know that Halloween Dance Friday night? I was wondering if you might want to go with me? I mean, I know it’s gonna be pretty much underclassmen, but maybe we can steal some snacks, dance a little and then chill at my house? Call me when you get this. Peace.”

  ***

  I pressed down my satin tank top on my belly, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in front of my mirror.

  The last time I bought a fancy outfit had been for awards night when I was a sophomore in high school. I had gotten the History award and my mom had gotten me a sundress for the occasion. It was her way of acknowledging my accomplishment since she didn’t end up going to the ceremony.

  This time I had taken Emily to the mall with me. She had picked out this black satin top and a sequined skirt to match. I would’ve worn my Converse, but Em chose a pair of heels that weren’t too painful, so I conceded and bought those, too.

  Half an hour before Becca was going to pick me up I had second thoughts about the whole ensemble. I sucked in my stomach so my ribs were poking at the thin material.

  This is too sexy, I thought. What if I’m overdressed?

  I went to my closet and began flipping through my endless array of band T-shirts, cardigans I hadn’t worn in years, winter jackets, and the only two dresses I owned, both completely inappropriate for October, even in Arizona.

  With a heavy sigh, I went to the bathroom to do my hair in a simple French braid and put on just a touch of lipstick.

  ***

  Becca arrived right on time and my sister ran down to answer the door.

  “Hey Becca,” I heard Em greet my friend.

  “Hey Emsicle! How’s it going? Where’s your big sis?”

  “Getting pretty. She’ll be down.”

  Emily’s heavy footsteps preceded her up the stairs.

  “G! She’s here!”

  I waved her to her room, shaking off thinking about what she was thinking, and carefully descended the stairs at my new height in heels. As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I heard a whistle.

  “Wow, Greer, you look amazing.” Becca stood in a red halter dress, matching ballet slippers on her feet. I didn’t know if I was blushing from her compliment, or from her glowing like an angel in front of me.

  “Ready to go?” she asked.

  “Let’s do it.” I followed her out of the house and into her car.

  ***

  As soon as we got to the dance I knew I had made a huge mistake. My palms started sweating before we even stepped out of the car. I looked over at Becca, so ravishing in red.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  I nodded slowly.

  What are people going to think? I silently questioned myself. You know exactly what they’re going to think.

  Nevertheless, I opened my door and met Becca on the sidewalk. With a nervous smile, we continued on into the school.

  Becca in the bathroom, I stood by myself in the corner. Every single person who walked past eyed me up and down before turning to whomever they were with and snickering. My breathing quickened to the point where I felt like I needed more air. I was hyperventilating.

  Without a second thought, I fled. I ran out the front doors of the school and back to the car, perching on the hood and hoping Becca would find me there.

  She did.

  About ten minutes later I saw her curvy form exit the school and head toward me. She was walking with purpose. All I could do was watch until she was right in front of me, nostrils flaring.

  And then, she hit me. She slapped me hard enough that my cheek stung and I had to regain my balance with my left hand on her car. I was stunned into silence.

  Becca seemed just as shocked as I was, though, tears glistening in her eyes. She shook her head and opened the car, getting into the driver’s seat. Without saying anything, she sat there, waiting for me to get in.

  Once I did, she reversed and sped out of the parking lot faster than I had ever seen her.

  “Becs, slow down,” I finally said.

  “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do, okay Greer?” she snapped back.

  “I’m sorry,” I offered, my voice as small as could be while still being audible.

 
“Just shut up, okay? Just shut the fuck up!”

  Not another word was spoken until we reached my house. Becca put on the brakes and left the engine running.

  “Can we just talk-”

  “NO! Just leave. I can’t look at you right now.”

  With a sincerely apologetic expression on my face that she never saw, I left.

  Not two seconds after I closed the door behind me, Becca was speeding off down the street. I stood by my mailbox, numb.

  I didn’t want to leave, but, she’s gotta understand! I thought. Then again, maybe she won’t. What if she doesn’t? What if I ruined this for good?

  ***

  The next day, I let things lie. I figured Becca was still upset and I wanted to give her time to cool off. In preparation for my apology, I decided to write her a letter. I knew that, face-to-face, I would lose my words and eloquence (if I had any), but on paper, I could take my time to say what I needed to say.

  Becs,

  You have no idea how badly I feel about running out of the dance the other night. While I can imagine how that must have seemed to you, I hope you can take a few minutes to hear my side of the story.

  First off, you must know how much I like you. I’ve never felt so strongly about anyone before. I think it scares me. No, it does scare me. You’re beautiful and you make me laugh. You were basically made for the water, too.

  I know that I’m screwing this up, but we’re not exactly living in San Francisco, or anything, you know? I really look up and respect you for being who you are and not worrying if that will have repercussions. I’m not like that – at least not yet.

  Plus, there’s Cameron. If rumors start about us and it gets back to him… well, I just don’t want to hurt him.

  I hope you can think back to when you were hiding this part of yourself and you didn’t have the courage and confidence you have now, right? I’m still there.

  I’m trying, Becs. I’m really trying.

  Love Always,

  G

  I read it over. Then I read it again. It wasn’t as eloquent as I was hoping for, but it got the message across. I decided to take a walk to her house.

  ***

  Mrs. Wilder opened the door for me when I rang the bell.

  “Greer! Come in! Go right upstairs, Becca’s in her room,” she said, giving me her motherly smile and a quick hug before I left.

  I ascended the stairs and stood outside her door, wondering if I should knock or just go in. I decided to knock.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s me,” I said.

  Silence.

  “Can I come in?”

  Nothing.

  I took that as a sign that she didn’t not want to see me, so I entered.

  Becca was on her stomach on her bed, surfing the Internet on her laptop. She didn’t look at me when I came in.

  “What?” she asked, eyes glued to the screen.

  “Becs, I have something for you. I want to explain about the dance.” I shuffled my feet, worrying the letter in my hands.

  “I understand. You don’t have to explain.”

  “Please, Becs?” I held the letter out to her.

  She took it without looking at me and opened it. She read it right in front of me.

  With a sigh when she was finished, she put the note back in the envelope and sat up, facing me.

  “I know all this, Greer. But this still doesn’t mean you should have run out on me like you did.” Her eyes looked pained and I sat down next to her, taking her hand.

  “I know, I know Becca and I am so, so sorry I did that. I panicked.”

  “I really like you, too, Greer. I just want to know that we’re moving forward together, you know?”

  I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, absolutely. I promise.”

  She still looked uncertain and I knew what – who – was on her mind.

  “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of everything. Just trust me,” I told her.

  She gave me that dimpled smile of hers and pulled me in for a hug. And then a kiss. And then a few more.

  “Everything in the universe goes by indirection.

  There are no straight lines.”

  - Ralph Waldo Emerson

  NOVEMBER

  I had started to get anxious every time I opened my eyes in the morning, wondering whether I’d see her in school before the volume left my hair by our end of the day math class. I began getting up ten minutes earlier to make sure my hair and makeup were perfect. I told myself it was for Cameron. I convinced myself to believe it for a while, too.

  It was the first week in November, but you wouldn’t have known by the humidity of my new home state. Cameron jogged up to me as soon as I entered the cafeteria. We had started meeting there every day, five minutes before first period, just the week before. With swim practices picking up as our season started, we had less time to see each other after school. Today, however, intramurals took precedence (I told Coach I’d make up for it over the weekend). Cam kissed me quickly, wishing me a good morning.

  “Big game today!” he said excitedly, referring to our very last intramural football game. Obviously, judging by my lack of reporting on the activity before now, there hadn’t been much to say. Liza ended up quitting after she broke all the nails on her right hand – which happened to be our third game. So, we played 4 on 5 with the rest of the teams and were 1-8 going into the final. Not so great.

  “Yeah. Can’t wait,” I replied. We walked over to the table where we usually ate lunch. Brian and Liza were sitting there arguing.

  “You can’t wear that!” Brian admonished, pointing to her skirt and leggings.

  “Why not? Field hockey and lacrosse players wear skirts so what’s the big deal?” she replied huffily.

  “This isn’t field hockey, duh! It’s football, that’s why!”

  “Okay, shut up you two,” Cam interrupted, putting a momentary stop to their bickering. “Let Liza wear whatever she’s comfortable in – as long as it doesn’t make her drop the ball more often than she already does.”

  “Are you actually playing?” I asked her.

  “Yeah, well, Cam convinced me since it’s the last one and all,” she said, winking at him. “Plus, he promised to keep the ball away from me as much as possible.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I forgot, I guess. Well, isn’t it a good surprise?” He ruffled my hair, and I scowled at him, pressing it back in place.

  “Whatever. I gotta go,” I said, giving him a weak smile and hand squeeze before heading to class.

  I was finding it harder and harder to act like I wanted to be with him. I just didn’t know what to expect if I told him the truth.

  I didn’t know if I could handle it if it went the way I thought it would.

  ***

  “Come on you guys! We can do better than this!” Cameron yelled at half-time. He took this intramural thing way more seriously than the rest of us, except for Brian who tackled someone every time the ref’s back was turned.

  I was just trying to have fun – if we won, we won, if we lost, whatever. I counted it as extra practice for the swim team.

  We were tied at this point. Liza looked wiped, although she’d been doing nothing more than walk up and down the field for the past 45 minutes.

  “Brian and Shaun, block for Greer. Greer, get open ‘cus the ball’s coming to you. And Liza – well, stay out of the way,” Cam instructed. With a clap of the hands we took our positions.

  “53! 42! Hike, hike, hike!”

  I ran the other way, my head turned over my shoulder. I saw Brian tackle two people at once, and Shaun chasing this 6-foot giant coming my way.

  Good thing Brian makes up for Liza’s ineptitude. I thought as I caught the ball. Shaun slowed down my only threat and I made it to the 30 before my flag was pulled.

  “Shit!”

  “No, that rocked, G!” Cam slapped my hand. “We’ll definitely get a touchdown now.”

  He was right. W
e did the same play again, Cam and Shaun changing positions. I ran my heart out and, bam! I threw the football at my feet as my team ran towards me.

  “Wooooooo! That’s what I’m talking about!” Cam picked me up and twirled me around, kissing me in front of everyone.

  I quickly looked the field and the stands over to make sure Becca wasn’t around, and then I kissed him back.

  “Let’s go celebrate!” he suggested. “2-8, ha!”

  Liza had to go to a hair appointment, Shaun had dinner with his family and Brian had weight training with the football team. That left the two of us.

  “Word. Okay, Greer. Let’s go to Pizza Hut, my treat. You’re a fuckin’ natural!” He smiled.

  “Sweet, I’m starving.” I didn’t even care that I looked like, well, like I had just finished playing a football game.

  We walked to the bus stop and I turned into one of those bobble-head dolls as Cam went through a play-by-play of the entire game. He listed off everything we had to work on at practice in the coming week. I didn’t get a word in edge-wise until we sat down at a booth.

  “I’d like a slice of cheese and a Cherry Coke, please,” I told our waitress.

  Cameron ordered an entire pepperoni pizza for himself and finally acknowledged my presence as a living human as opposed to a wall.

  “So? How’re you feeling?” he asked.

  “Uh, fine. Tired. Lots of homework tonight and swimming bright and early tomorrow,” I told him, adding a face of mock disgust to prove my point.

  “Yeah, that really blows.”

  “Hey, I was wondering if you had thought about taking up those guitar lessons I saw posted in school? Remember?” There had been a bulletin in the Music wing I had glanced at while walking to the gym a few days before; one of the teachers tutored kids in guitar for extra cash.

  “Greer, I told ya, I don’t have time for that. There’s football and homework and -” he stopped, thinking.