Queer Greer

by A J Walkley

  “It’s okay. Thank you for thinking it was worth sharing.”

  “Don’t pay attention to what these numbskulls have to say, either. You’re a good writer, and you have your heart in the right place.”

  What place was that? I thought to myself.

  “Right, well, thanks again,” I repeated, walking away.

  “Wait, was there something you wanted to talk about?”

  “Oh,” I turned around. “I can’t remember! Well, have a good weekend!” I walked out the door, not chancing a glance back to see if he was suspicious, wondering what it was I wouldn’t say.

  There wasn’t one thing, there were many, none of which I could form into teacher-appropriate thoughts. I trusted Mr. Riley but could I ask him, ‘How do you know if you’re gay?’ or ‘How do you know if you should be offended by a word or an opinion if you don’t self-identify with either yet?’ I put it all out of my head as I walked to the pool for a one-on-one practice with Becca.

  ***

  When I got to the locker room, I saw Becca’s bag on the floor, empty. She was already in the pool. I changed quickly to join her. There were only a few guys from the boy’s team practicing on one end of our Olympic-sized pool and Becca was working on her kick-flips at the other. I stood at the door watching her for a minute or two before I jumped in the water next to her.

  “Hey, it’s about time,” she joked, splashing water in my face.

  “Aw, come on, play nice,” I retorted with a mock pout. “So, I didn’t tell you what Coach told me after practice yesterday.” Everyone else had left and I was alone, having taken a shower before class. When I left, Coach was in the hall, waiting for me.

  “MacManus. Come into my office for five, will ya?” he asked, though it was more of an order than a question. My mind immediately started wracking itself to come up with a reason – I had been on time the whole week; my form was a little off, but everyone has days like that.

  “What’s up, Coach?” I asked, sitting down in the one faux-metal chair that faced his desk. Sports posters wallpapered the walls, inspirational sayings on each: “Adversity causes some men to break, and others to break records”; “Sometimes it is more important to discover what one cannot do than what one can do”; “I learn teaching from teachers. I learn golf from golfers. I learn winning from coaches.”

  “Listen MacManus, I’ve been noticing you paying a lot more attention to your teammates than your swimming and I’ve already warned you before. This is unacceptable.”

  He paused, looking at me. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say a thing.

  “If you don’t get this under control, MacManus, you’re not going to be seeing much meet time for the rest of this season. You understand?”

  I nodded. I really didn’t think I had been distracted enough for Coach to notice.

  “Okay, get going,” he said with a wave of the hand. I had grabbed my bag and made my way to homeroom.

  “Damn, Greer, I told you!” Becca splashed me again when I finished.

  “I know, I know. But that’s why I’m here. Extra practice, right?” I turned and kicked off the wall, warming up with a couple of laps before Becs reamed me for the next hour.

  Every time my freestyle form was off by even half a breath, Becca would yell for me to come back to the wall and start over. She was worse than our coach that afternoon, but I didn’t mind. She was taking an interest in my progress, more so than I would have without her to be honest. I did everything she told me to do.

  “Not bad, babe. Not bad at all. You better remember everything I told you so you impress Coach on Monday,” she said as she pushed herself out of the water.

  I glanced around and realized the boys had left. I reached up and grabbed Becca around the waist, pulling her back in.

  “Hey, what was tha -” she started before I stopped her with my mouth. I pulled away and saw her staring at me, surprised. “Well, well, well, I don’t think Coach taught us that in practice,” she smirked before kissing me back.

  ***

  That night, Cameron had invited the gang over, plus a few extras, for a Christmas beer pong tournament. This basically just meant dying every other cup red and green.

  I had never played (what else is new?), but I was into the idea. Becca came, too, and I was torn between who I should be partners with.

  “Okay guys, team up! Greer, you’re with me!” Cam said, taking the decision out of my hands.

  I looked over at Becca, standing on the other side of the pong table Cameron had set up in his basement, and gave her an apologetic shrug. She smiled it away, turning to Shaun and nabbing him as her other half for the game.

  It turned out that I wasn’t half bad. Always the leader, Cam called the table first and we beat Liza and Brian by three cups.

  “Who wants to try us next?” Cam goaded, his arm around my shoulders. Even though these social situations involving both of my love interests were common by then, I still felt awkward. I was relieved when the next game began against Becs.

  “You’re going down!” she said to us, high-fiving Shaun and waiting for our first shots.

  I bounced mine and Becs swept it up before it could sink a cup. Cam’s landed square in the center of the pyramid.

  “In yo’ face!”

  “Oh, shut it, bro,” Shaun said, speaking up for once instead of silently brooding as usual. “Just play the damn game.” And with that, Shaun bounced it into our front cup, doubling what Cam and I had to drink. That quieted my partner momentarily.

  The game was even, everyone hitting a cup until we were down to one on each side. Our opponents missed our one cup twice and Cam missed on his turn, too. The stakes were for naught, except maybe for Cameron’s pride. I was buzzed enough not to care and just wanted out. Not concentrating too much, I launched the pong ball and – in it went.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Cam lifted me off the floor and kissed me. If Becca hadn’t had her eyes pasted on us, it would have been a knockout. But she did. So it wasn’t.

  “Who’s next?”

  “No more! I’m done. My quota’s been met,” I told him.

  “Aw, damn. Well, I still wanna play. Who’s with me?”

  Shaun and Cam ended up pairing up, challenging Brian and Liza to a game. Becca and I headed outside to smoke a joint I had rolled for us earlier.

  “Nice shot you got there, Greer,” she said as I lit the end of the j. “You’re a beer pong natural.”

  “Ha, right. It’s mostly just luck.”

  “Anyway,” she began, giving me eyes as she handed the joint back. “Why don’t you give me a shotgun?”

  I sucked in as much smoke as my lungs could hold and leaned over, securing my lips over Becca’s. I breathed out slowly, making the moment last.

  Instead of breaking apart, Becca released the smoke through her nose and pulled my head closer. When she let me go, I saw stars in my eyes. I couldn’t discern whether they were from lack of oxygen, or the thrill of kissing my… well, Becca so close to Cameron and his friends.

  Glancing over at the sliding glass door we had come from, I saw the curtains move. I jumped back.

  “What’s wrong?” Becca looked concerned.

  “I thought I saw somebody.”

  “They’re all too drunk and into their game. Don’t worry.”

  I stayed where I was, keeping my distance nonetheless.

  ***

  “What’s the deal Greer?” Becca asked as we made our way home, side-by-side.

  “What do you mean?”

  She shot me a look that said, ‘As if you don’t know.’ “Please. You kiss him right in front of me and I’m supposed to just watch?”

  A whole slew of excuses came into my mind and left just as quickly. My feet suddenly became incredibly interesting, my gaze focusing on them instead of the girl next to me.

  “I’m sorry, but, I mean, you know how it is…” I trailed off, continuing to walk until I realized Becca had stopped in her tracks.

  “And
how is it, Greer?” Her hands were on her hips and she stared me down. “Do I get that you’re dating him openly and have no intention of doing the same with me? I guess so, yeah. Do I get that this is new and you’re unsure and scared and aren’t sure what other people would say if they knew? Yeah, I’ve been there.”

  “Stop!” I interjected. “Becca, that’s not true. I mean, some of it, but can’t you see this from my point of view?”

  A loud burst of her laughter cut through the night and I remained planted in front of her. I was silently grateful for the late hour because there was no one around to observe our, well, our second fight.

  “I don’t know, Greer. I’ve never dated more than one person at a time, so I don’t really know where you’re coming from at all,” she said, gritting her teeth bitterly. “Am I not enough for you?” she added in a slightly quieter tone.

  “No! You are,” I tried to assure her. “But, Becs, Cameron would be crushed and I couldn’t tell him the truth.” Just the thought made my heart speed up and my hands get instantly clammy.

  “Why not?” Becca yelled. “What are you so afraid of?”

  Mockery. Name-calling. Staring. Whispering. She was calling me out on my immature fears without saying a word.

  “Who the heck cares what everyone else thinks, G?” she continued. “All that should matter is how you feel.” She walked forward, bridging the two feet of space separating us, and took both of my hands in her own. “What are you feeling? How do you feel about me?”

  Without so much as a second’s hesitation, I leaned forward and kissed her deeply. I felt my body instantly respond, an aching for Becca buzzing in my center. I imagined she was reacting the same way since she moaned into my mouth.

  “Becs,” I breathed, pulling away slowly. “I’ll figure this out, soon. I promise.” I brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and put it behind her ear. “I want to be with you. Just, be patient, okay?”

  With a deep breath and a momentary widening of the eyes, she nodded. We continued our trek home, hand-in-hand.

  ***

  I watched her sleep beside me. I could feel her breath against my elbow, coming out in soft, warm, even spurts. She was wearing a tank top, and when she shifted as she dreamed, her left nipple poked out from the top of the cotton. Growing erect at the introduction of the cool air in my room, I lightly grazed my thumb over it, careful not to wake her.

  Sleepovers were a definite perk of being in a same-sex relationship.

  ‘It’s funny,’ I thought to myself. ‘I have these too, but hers still seem different to me.’ It reminded me of something lame Brian had said last weekend. Something about how if he had tits, he would be playing with them all the time. I never really felt myself up when I thought about it, but feeling Becca’s breasts in my hands was completely different.

  At that point, no labels whatsoever were in my head, believe it or not. I was just drawn to this person and enjoyed every second I was with her. Sure, I knew what gay meant. But that was for other people. Boys with limp wrists who wore eyeliner and girls with short hair, baggy jeans and flannel shirts. I was neither. Nor was Becca.

  I played her hair through my fingers, gently brushing her shoulder in the process. She shivered and opened an eye. Smirking at me beneath one heavy lid, she closed it and pulled me toward her. My head fit into the nook between her chin and her chest. I heard her heart beating, speeding up just the slightest bit as I trailed my hand down her back.

  “Mmm,” she said into the crown of my head, making the whole of me buzz. “Did you sleep?”

  “No. Just been watching you,” I told her. I felt her smile. My hand found the perfect resting place between the edges of where her ribs ended and before her hips began. “Becs?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Mmmhmm?”

  “What are we?” I hadn’t intended it, but Becca pushed me gently away from her, so we could look each other in the eye.

  “What do you think we are?” She kissed my nose. My cheeks. My eyes. She pulled back and waited for my answer. I blushed under her stare.

  “Well? Don’t you know?”

  She laughed, and kissed me where I wanted it most, but not long enough for me to deepen it.

  “You can’t say it, can you Greer?”

  “Uh, sure I can.” I closed my eyes and whispered, “Girlfriends.” Before I had a chance to see her reaction, her tongue was in my mouth and my breasts were pressed firmly against her own.

  “Yeah, babe. I think so, too.”

  And without mentioning the fact that I had a boyfriend too, we started making love.

  ***

  “Cam?” My phone was vibrating at 2:00 a.m., waking me only two hours after Becca had left my bed. I could still smell her shampoo on my skin.

  “Greer, can you come over? I really, really miss you!” He was definitely drunk, or at least stoned.

  “Cameron, I’m sleeping.”

  “No you’re not, you’re talking to me!” he managed to get out before drowning himself out with his own giggling. So, he was high.

  “It’s two in the morning. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said before moving to flip my phone shut.

  “WAIT!”

  “What?”

  “Do you think you could come over?”

  “Cam!”

  “Please, G? I have something to tell you.”

  I groaned into the phone. “Can’t it wait?”

  “Please, G?” he repeated. He sounded so pathetic. I had a momentary mental image of him on his knees before me, tongue hanging out of his mouth, waiting for me to drop some food.

  “Uh! Fine! Meet me half way.”

  ***

  Cameron stood under a street lamp, waiting. He had a sad bouquet of dandelions in his fist, which he held out to me as I approached. I hadn’t bothered to get dressed, putting a robe over my boxers and Bob Marley T, flip-flops donning my feet. Cam was still in his filthy gym clothes from going to the weight room that afternoon.

  “Well? What is it?” I asked, not bothering with greetings considering the hour.

  “Here,” he said, thrusting his crude floral arrangement into my chest. I took them, hiding any evidence of my pitying thoughts behind a half smirk.

  “Thanks. So, what’s up, Cameron? I’m exhausted.”

  “There’s something I have to say.”

  “I know! Out with it!” Ignoring my mood, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

  “It’s been almost four months, Greer. That’s a long time.” I cocked my head back to look at him. He was serious. “I’ve never been with anyone that long and I know you haven’t either.”

  I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. I kept wondering if he could smell her on me.

  “I love you, Greer.”

  “Wh-what?” I couldn’t be sure I heard him right.

  “I love you,” he said again, a little less sure this time.

  “You love me?” Three months and he knew this? My heart sped up as I realized that, yes, you could fall in love with someone that quickly. Even less. Becca’s face during that first swim practice popped into my head.

  Oh my God.

  “Greer? Aren’t you going to say something?”

  Cam’s eyes were pleading with me. There was only one thing he wanted to hear. I kissed him - a thank you for his admission and vulnerability. I stood on tiptoes to hug him and brought my lips to his ear.

  “I love you, too,” I said, my eyes closed, thinking about the person I had been with just a few hours before.

  ***

  “I cannot believe I drove home last night, bro!” Brian bragged as soon as we walked into the IHop for a late breakfast at 1 p.m. on Saturday.

  “It’s not funny, man! If you weren’t cool to drive, why did you volunteer to take me home?” Cameron actually looked pissed, which surprised me. I was sure he had driven home drunk himself at least a handful of times.

  “It was like a video game or something, man! It was crazy. You were passed out in the b
ack so whaddyou care?” He plopped down in the nearest booth and started flipping through a menu. “What are you guys gonna get?”

  I stared at him in awe. They could have been killed; or worse, killed others.

  I looked hard at Cameron, searching for a reason for being with him. He loved messing with people by keeping his blinker on after changing lanes on the highway, to the chagrin and annoyance of other drivers. Whenever we went out for pizza with his friends he would use at least 20 napkins to blot the grease off of his requisite four slices of pie, claiming it to be healthier for him as an athlete. He was so sure of himself that any quips from his friends were waved away until they became accustomed to his habit. In fact, Brian started blotting his pizza too, after awhile.

  At first I found all of this charming. Cam didn’t care what others thought; he was his own individual, comfortable in his skin. That charm was wearing off. It wasn’t charm, but entitlement he was exuding. He liked knowing other people were swearing in their cars at his incessant blinker. He liked pizza grease (he never blotted when we were alone), merely affecting his excessive napkin-use for the attention and mimicry it afforded him.

  And as for me? I was his entitlement, too – or so he thought. His demands on my time were almost tedious at that point, especially when all I wanted was to be with Becca.

  “Oh, yeah, and Greeeer, wanna know what I heard about you last night?” Brian cut into my daydream. Both Cam and I stared at him hard; Cam because he thought this would be juicy information and me because I had an inkling about what he would say next. “Liza told me something about you makin’ it with Swim Chick last night!”

  All eyes were on me as I tried to remain calm, willing my cheeks not to betray me. “You mean Rebecca, dumbass? Where’d she hear that from?”

  “Is it true, G? You going the lesbo route now?”

  I punched Cameron in the shoulder with the best false face of disgust I could muster.

  “Shut up, Cam! Rebecca might have kissed me, but it doesn’t mean I kissed her back!”

  “I didn’t know if it was even true, but I guess you just proved it, G! Niiiice!” Brian high-fived Cam as he said this.

  “It’s cool, baby. But, listen, next time, can I watch?” I punched him again before excusing myself. I promptly sought the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I slid down the door and sat on the linoleum.