by A J Walkley
I suddenly found myself wondering what the two of them talked about every Sunday evening for their requisite weekly call.
Does she tell Mom private things?
“Well, there’s not too much to tell,” Louisa began.
“Don’t be so modest, Lou!” Jill jumped in. “Louisa is doing some great work with pets in disasters back home. A lot of places, if there’s like a hurricane or something and you need to evacuate, they won’t let your animals come with you. Lou’s changing that.”
She was so excited, talking about her partner. I found myself forming a slew of questions that I didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask: ‘Where did you meet? How long have you been together? How did you know you liked women? How did you come out to your family? What was their reaction?’
“I’m doing my best. A lot of people don’t think about these things, but most of us love our pets so much, we think of them as part of the family,” Lou was saying.
“Oh yeah, that’s so true. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my puppies!” Jill said. “But, people always come first,” she continued, looking at Louisa and squeezing her knee.
Louisa looked a bit uncomfortable, scanning the room to see our reactions to Jill’s somewhat overt expression of affection. I did the same.
My dad had just entered the room with a tray of beverages. Em had picked up her Gameboy and wasn’t paying attention. My mom, however, seemed perfectly content and spoke up, not missing a beat.
“Absolutely. But your work is important, Louisa. I had a cousin down in Galveston who had to leave her cat behind when that storm struck in ‘08. Hurricane Ike, I think?” My mom stopped and waited for her guests to nod before she continued. “She was practically inconsolable. She couldn’t care less about her house being destroyed, but losing Muffin was the worst.”
My attention focused on the wine glass my dad had given me while the conversation turned to my mom’s job. I sipped slowly, wondering what Becca was up to. She was visiting her friend Kate for the holiday.
“Who’s hungry?” my dad asked. After another chorus of affirmation, we all filed into the dining room for shrimp, steak, green beans and mashed potatoes.
I was greatly disappointed that Jill and Louisa didn’t talk about themselves more, because that’s all I was interested in hearing. But no, my parents were much more interested in discussing the economy, the president, electric cars and immigration law.
I guess gay people can be just as boring as the heteros, I thought, twirling my fork in my potatoes.
“So, Greer, how’s swimming?” Jill asked me. “You know Greer used to swim back in Carolina,” she said to Louisa who nodded in response.
“Oh, it’s okay I guess. More competitive than I thought,” I said.
“Jill, you know Greer has a boyfriend? Did I tell you about that?”
I whipped my head around to look at my mother, piercing her with a look that said, ‘I cannot believe you just said that.’
“Really? What’s his name? What’s he like?” Jill seemed interested.
Great, now she thinks I’m straight, I thought, not really knowing why I cared.
“Cameron,” I mumbled. “He plays football.”
“A jock like you, very nice,” she said. “You know, Lou used to play football, too? The only girl on the team. She had to fight her way on, but she did pretty well, didn’t you, babe?”
I scanned the table again. Talk about blatant affection! And yet, still my parents seemed unfazed.
Maybe they won’t take my news too badly after all.
“I didn’t play much, but yeah. I was pretty much your cliché dyke in high school,” Louisa explained.
Before I could react, Em did it for me. “What does dyke mean?” she asked.
My mom looked from Louisa to Jill to my dad to Emily. “Uh, honey, it’s another word for ‘lesbian,’” she explained lightly. “Do you know what that means?”
Em scowled at her. “Duh! Them!” she said pointing at Jill and Louisa.
I held my breath, not sure how they’d respond.
Then laughter broke out, first with Jill and soon the entire table followed suit.
“You bet, Emily. We definitely are.” To emphasize the point, she took Louisa’s hand and kissed it.
My heart was beating so fast, I had to get up and get a glass of water to calm myself.
“So, what’s for dessert?” my dad asked.
While my mom got up to get the champagne glasses of chocolate mousse from the fridge, I sat back down at the table, hoping that line of conversation wasn’t over yet. I didn’t know where it could have gone from there, but still, that was the first time homosexuality was ever discussed by my family, ever.
Alas, the rest of the evening lapsed with talk of New Year’s resolutions and my dad’s favorite game: Top Ten Favorite Movies/Bands/Books of all time. We each made a list and compared.
Emily ended up going to bed by 11, so there were only the five of us left as the clock drew closer to midnight.
“Okay, G-Bee. Your turn. What do you got for books?” Dad asked, winking. We almost always had at least seven of the same books on our list.
“To Kill a Mockingbird, Oliver Twist, Emma, Huckleberry Finn, and all the Harry Potters, except the first one because it wasn’t very good,” I said.
“Ha, that’s my girl,” my dad said. “Jill? How about your movie list?”
“Okay, here we go. Don’t make fun of me, okay? ‘Serving in Silence’, ‘If These Walls Could Talk’, ‘Fried Green Tomatoes’, ‘Fire’, ‘Saving Face’, and my last five I’ve reserved for -”
“Oh let me guess!” Louisa said.
“Anything with Mary Louise Parker!” the couple said at the same time.
That chick from ‘Weeds’? Yeah, she is pretty hot, I thought.
“Yeah, well, if you didn’t know I was gay before…” Jill trailed off, laughing to herself.
I had never seen any of the movies she had mentioned. So, after the ball in Times Square had dropped and we said our goodbyes to Jill and Louisa, I managed to snag all of their Top Ten lists, planning on some self-education on the issue that mattered most to me at that moment.
“At present you need to live the question.
Perhaps you will gradually,
without even noticing it,
find yourself experiencing the answer,
some distant day.”
- Rainer Maria Rilke
JANUARY
I was running alongside my mother on the dusty path in Thornwood Park, up the street from my house. We had picked up the habit over my winter break since I needed to maintain my shape for the swim team without practice. Exercising was one of the only things the two of us could connect on then, so I took advantage. It gave us time to talk, which was such a rarity.
“So, Mom, Becca and I are going out to dinner this weekend.” I looked over at my mother, trying to predict her reaction if I told her why.
“Oh? Where are you and your friend going?”
“Actually, we’re -” I could have said it, but I stopped. “We’re going to Annalina’s for Mexican.”
“Your father and I have been there. It’s good, you’ll like it.”
Now or never. Now or never.
“Yeah, well it’s one of Becca’s favorites, and we’re kind of celebrating.”
“Is it her birthday?” she asked, picking up her pace as we rounded a corner.
“No, it’s our -” Gulp. “It’s our anniversary, Mom.”
“What do you mean, Greer?” She didn’t look at me, but her posture straightened, even as she continued to run.
“It’s been, well, it’s been four months since we became…” I took a couple of breaths. Looking over at her, I couldn’t do it. “Teammates.”
“Oh, that’s nice sweet pea.”
Coward.
***
“I’m thinking quesadillas tonight,” I said to Becca while the hostess at Annalina’s seated us. “What about you?”<
br />
Becca flipped through the menu lazily, each page seeming to take an added effort to turn over.
“Uh, I dunno. Probably just a taco or something,” she said. “I wish I had a fake. I’d love a margarita or something right now.”
“Maybe we can pick up some beer at that package store, like, a mile back. Cameron told me they don’t check IDs,” I offered.
Becca looked at me as if she just noticed I was in front of her.
“Oh. Right. Maybe.”
Do you ever notice something is wrong after the fact, though you knew it was there all along? You just chose to ignore it? I am the Queen of this.
“Taco salad and a water,” Becca said to the waitress.
“A Diet Coke and the enchiladas, please,” I ordered.
“You never order enchiladas.”
“But you love them, so you can take from my plate,” I replied, reaching across the table to take her hand.
The response I got was a quick squeeze before withdrawing her hand and putting it back on the menu.
“So, can you believe it’s been as long as it has?” I asked.
“It hasn’t been that long.” I had knew Becca could sustain a conversation for hours. This was the first time I realized how good she was at bringing one to an abrupt halt, too.
“Well, maybe not for you, but definitely for me.” My jaw was beginning to hurt at that point from smiling for the both of us.
“I guess.”
See? A conversation-stopping connoisseur.
“Well then,” What do you say to that? I decided honesty was probably best. “Is something wrong, babe?”
“What?” Her head had snapped up quickly.
“You’re just not acting like yourself,” I said.
“Sorry. I guess I’m just tired.”
“Do you wanna leave? We could go back to my house and watch a movie or something?” I offered.
Becca shrugged. “I don’t know. Can we just get this to go?”
The excitement I had been feeling all day left me completely.
“Yeah, babe, anything you want.” I motioned for the waitress and asked her to bag our dinners and bring the check. “Do you think you’re getting sick or something?”
“Nah.” She didn’t look at me, taking an interest in her cuticles instead.
I waited for her to continue, but it didn’t happen.
***
If you ask a random heterosexual about gender roles in a homosexual relationship, it’s likely they’d talk about who ‘wears the pants’ or who’s the butch and who’s the femme.
With Becca and me, that dichotomy was absent. I loved that about us.
We were equals, regardless of her experience and my status as a ‘baby gay’ at the time.
I felt then that I had never known a person as well as I knew my girlfriend at that point in my life: the differences in her eyes when she is turned on versus when she’s got the munchies, or when she knows we are both thinking the same thing.
I remember being drawn to each other from the start. I could never keep myself from staring at her when we were in the same room.
I mapped her with my eyes, my fingers, my lips. The mole on her lower back. The chip in her right front tooth, from a bike accident she had a few years back that she never got fixed.
“It gives me character, don’t you think?” she had said when I pointed it out the first time.
Becca rarely wore her hair up because of a receding hairline she swore she had. I always thought the wisps of hair along her forehead were sweet, especially when they curled up slightly after she got out of the pool.
Her shoulder blades, so sleek beneath her skin, reminded me of butterfly wings – apparently delicate and fragile, but capable of taking her anywhere, like through the water with her favorite stroke of the same name.
She was slightly bow-legged, but the way she held herself high and proud when she walked, you would never know – unless you were memorizing her like I had.
“You could be a pianist,” I told her once, playing her hands through my own. “You have the most perfect fingers for it.”
“I don’t have the patience to learn something like that,” she had said.
“You have the patience to learn how to swim, though,” I offered.
“That’s not patience. That’s raw talent,” she had smirked, ruffling my hair like my father did.
Sometimes, when she thought I wasn’t looking, she’d get this pensive look on her face, and lose herself in a thought. Her lips would part, turning up just the slightest whisper at each end.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked her once, interrupting her reverie.
A full-fledged smile had taken over her features.
“You.”
My chest constricted while I returned her expression.
These are the things you think of, hold onto, when the one you love starts to let go.
***
I hadn’t seen Becca all week. She had told me that a friend was visiting; Kate. I had been excited to meet her. Cam and his entourage were aggravating me lately. I figured a new face would be a nice break. When I told Becca this she didn’t answer right away.
“Well, yeah, but I think we’re gonna be pretty busy. I mean, Kate’s going to be touring a bunch of colleges while I’m at school, so we’ll probably take it easy. No partying or anything fun.”
We had been in my room working on some math assignment, like always. Becca hadn’t looked up when she spoke.
“That’s fine. I’m down for chilling,” I’d replied.
Another pause.
“We’ll see, Greer.”
That was Monday. Becca hadn’t called since. Now Friday night, I figured they’d be up for a movie or something. I decided to walk over and suggest just that.
I tried calling her cell on the way, but it rang twice before going into voicemail. That most likely meant she had hit ‘Ignore’ on her phone, but that could have meant a lot of things. She was taking a shower, or she was in the middle of a TV show, or maybe she was having an argument with her mom.
I got to the door, rang the bell and Mrs. Wilder answered the door.
“Hi, Greer. How are you, sweetie?” Instead of letting me in like she had done a dozen times before, she blocked the entryway.
“I’m okay. Is Becca here?” Her car was in the driveway, so unless she had walked into town she was inside.
“Well, she is but she’s with another friend right now. Would you like me to tell her you dropped by?”
I furrowed my brow. “I haven’t talked to her in awhile. Is it okay if I just pop my head in for a second?”
“Let me just check, okay?” Mrs. Wilder pulled her head back behind the door and called up to Becca’s room. “Rebecca? Greer’s here! Can I send her up?”
There was a pause during which I scuffled my Converse against each other, a knot beginning to form in my stomach for some unknown reason.
“K, Mom,” came the disembodied voice from inside and Mrs. Wilder reappeared in front of me.
“Come on in. She’s in her room.”
I smiled my thanks and stepped inside, taking the carpeted steps two at a time to reach Becca’s room. The door was closed, that license plate and some new pictures torn from Rolling Stone magazines facing me instead of my girlfriend. For the first time, I knocked.
“Yeah, it’s open.”
Turning the knob, Kate was revealed to me in pieces. First, her legs, crossed and swinging above her back since she was laying on her stomach on the floor. She was wearing laced up black boots that stopped just below her knees. That’s where her black leggings began. Opening the door further I saw she had on a yellow and black paisley tunic-type of a shirt. She was thin, but not anorexically so. Her dyed black hair was next, flowing down her back and over her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall.
Then I was in the room. Kate turned to me and I saw hazel eyes surrounded by black eyeliner and smoky eye shadow. She had her eye
brow and nose pierced.
“Uh, hey Greer,” Becca said from her bed, taking my attention away from her ex. “What’s up?”
I stood in the doorway, awkwardly, four eyes boring into me as if I was intruding.
“Oh, I just hadn’t heard from you. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“It’s cool. Kate and I have just been chilling,” she said motioning to her friend with her chin.
“Right, well I wanted to know if you guys wanted to go see a movie tonight or something?” I offered, though my gaze was strictly on Becca, who instantly looked at Kate.
“We were gonna go out to a bar, I think, right Kate?”
My eyes widened. “Isn’t that risky?” I asked.
“I just got my first fake ID,” Kate said, speaking for the first time. “Since Becs already has one, we’re gonna go try ‘em out.”
At the sound of Becca’s nickname coming out of her mouth I had to clench my hands into fists at my side. I imagined slapping this girl who I didn’t know, and that surprised me.
“Oh, wow, okay then,” I said looking at Becca, expecting her to say something. “Maybe another time then?”
“Maybe. Kate’s only here ‘til Sunday, Greer. I’ll give you a call then, k?”
“Sure. Have fun,” I said with a tight-lipped smile before turning on my heel and leaving the Wilder’s without another word.
If Becca wants to be distant, fine, I thought on my way home. I’ll just chill with Cameron until she comes around.
***
“Long time no see, babe,” Cam said, letting me into his basement through the sliding door. “Where’ve you been?”
“Sorry, Cam. I picked up more shifts this break to make some extra cash.” I plopped myself on the couch, noticing that Sports Center was on the TV.
“I don’t know if that’s a good enough excuse for not seeing you for a week.” Cameron had stopped by the market to visit me for all of five minutes the Saturday previous. He threw his arm over my shoulder and relaxed against me.
“I know. But I’m here now. Want to, I don’t know, go bowling or something?” I offered.
“Bowling? Come on, G, that’s for babies. Let’s just hang out.”
“We always hang out, Cam. Can’t we actually do something?” I whined.
