OMGQueer

by Radclyffe

  Now that she was finally confessing all the details of that terrible day, Ryan couldn’t stop talking. It was the first time she had ever told the story out loud. She had dreamt of the day, woken up screaming Crystal’s name multiple times, and reimagined it multiple times as she worked. “I felt so ashamed.”

  Maxine rested her hand on Ryan’s leg. “Baby, the way you talk about Crystal, I’m sure she wished it was her instead.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because that’s how I would have felt, and although I never thought anybody could love you as much as I do, I think Crystal did.”

  Ryan fell silent as she parked the car next to the local pharmacy. She called her mother to make sure her parents didn’t need anything else. After that, they quickly grabbed Maxine’s prescription, a few sodas, and some salty snacks for the movie marathon her dad had planned. Ryan glanced at the tabloids and chuckled as she waited in line. Knowing the real stories made these things much more fun. But when the woman in front of them murmured something about not having a pen, she couldn’t help herself from looking up. The woman was completely submerged in her bulky purse, and the first thing Ryan noticed was a birthmark on her neck that looked like a dove.

  “I’m sorry, I could have sworn I had a pen in here somewhere.” Crystal’s hands were still engulfed by the luggage. The clerk behind the counter, a pimple-faced teenaged boy with longer hair than Maxine’s, looked quite aggravated.

  Ryan was momentarily speechless. She loved Maxine more than the world, but Crystal was the first person who had been there when Ryan thought she was completely alone. There would be no one that made her forget that.

  “Another Crystal Crisis?” Ryan laid a pen on the counter and watched every muscle in Crystal’s angelic body grow solid.

  “I’m sorry, did you just say—” Maxine appeared even more stunned than Crystal.

  “Ryan?” Crystal said.

  “It’s me.”

  Crystal was speechless until the clerk coughed intentionally. “Hold that thought,” she said as she bent to sign the check.

  “Baby, I can get this, why don’t you guys go outside and chat?” Maxine suggested as she looked between them. “I’ll be right there in a few.”

  As soon as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the reunion started. “I really can’t believe it’s you. How have you been? Wait!” Crystal held up one hand. “I know the answer to that, Ryan Campbell, the famous movie director that every guy and gal in the industry begs for a chance to work with.”

  “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” Ryan felt giddy at the thought.

  “It’s kind of hard not to. I absolutely love all your movies. I would ask for your autograph but I don’t want to bother you with stupid fan stuff.”

  “You could never bother me, Crystal,” Ryan said. “But please tell me, what have you been up to?”

  “I’m a school psychologist,” Crystal answered shyly. “I couldn’t live with the thought of kids going through what we went through and not trying to help.”

  “Crystal, I am so sorry,” Ryan said.

  “For what?” Crystal stepped closer and grabbed Ryan’s hand.

  “For the way it ended, all those years ago. For being too traumatized to tell an already homophobic principal what actually happened.”

  *

  “I need you to tell me what happened yesterday.” Principal Malloy stared down at Ryan as she and Crystal sat in Malloy’s office.

  Ryan looked at the floor, terrified. She gave no answer. Her lips wouldn’t move, and even if they did, there would be no sound. It had only been a day since the incident, and she hadn’t told her side of the story to anybody—not even her own parents.

  “I told you what happened! Don’t make her relive it too!” Crystal was furious. Ryan heard it in her voice, and her arms were shaking like a rattlesnake’s tail.

  “Ms. Rowland, be quiet!” Principal Malloy shouted. “You could have made up the whole thing, so I need to hear Ms. Campbell second your testimony.”

  “Made up? You have video of Justin and his friends shoving us into the bathroom. Then she was soaked and I looked more beaten than one of Muhammad Ali’s competitors after a fight. That isn’t enough proof?”

  The principal didn’t move an inch as he ignored Crystal’s outburst. “Are you going to start talking or not?” Ryan continued to stay mute. “Miss Joseph, please send in their parents.”

  “Bastard,” Crystal muttered.

  Their parents sat next to them in the small office as Principal Malloy launched into a speech about how he could do nothing if Ryan didn’t tell him who’d assaulted her.

  “Your hands are tied? Crystal told you everything you needed to know!” Crystal’s father almost jumped across the desk. “They held her nose and mouth underwater until she blacked out. Then those idiotic, brainless boys freaked and ran. My daughter—with a fractured rib and broken fingers—had to do CPR! You’re damn lucky that she’s a lifeguard or you might have a dead student on your hands.”

  Ryan looked over at Crystal’s badly bruised face and wept. She hadn’t known the extent of Crystal’s injuries until now. How could they?

  “I’ll be okay, I promise!” Crystal mouthed as the five adults barked at each other. “This wasn’t your fault!”

  “I love you,” Ryan sobbed back. They were the only words she could manage to speak.

  “I love you too.” Crystal cried with her.

  “What do you suggest we do?” Ryan’s father spoke over the girls’ declarations of their first love. “I am not letting my daughter continue going to this school with criminals!”

  “They are not criminals,” the principal said, defending the little delinquents.

  “They committed a criminal act and are therefore criminals! Right?” He looked over to Crystal’s father for help.

  “He’s right! Those students should be arrested! This shouldn’t even be a school matter!”

  “But it is.” The principal glared. “They were under our care during those hours, and therefore this is a school matter. I do, however, have a solution for your girls if you are willing to listen.” He paused as they huffed in anger. “They both have enough credits to graduate early if that’s what you all decide.”

  In the end, it was what they both wanted. They definitely didn’t want to go back, and they didn’t want to have to start somewhere else in the middle of their senior year. Unfortunately, that was the last time they saw each other. Crystal’s parents had her visit relatives in Europe just so she would have a chance to get away from the small town and maybe have the chance to start being who she really wanted to be. Ryan’s parents had allowed her to begin an internship a semester early to start working on her dreams.

  *

  “It might have changed something for you,” Ryan finally answered.

  Crystal kissed Ryan’s knuckles and said, “I was heartbroken when we parted ways. I think about you every day, but I wouldn’t have changed any part of my life from that day forward. I’m happy, Ryan, really happy. And you?”

  “I definitely can’t say I miss this place,” Ryan answered.

  “I suppose not, when you have a beautiful girl hanging on your arm,” Crystal hinted.

  Ryan felt herself blush, just as she’d done in high school. “Maxine is more than beautiful, she’s…everything.”

  Crystal laughed at Ryan’s shyness. She stood on her tiptoes so that she could kiss Ryan’s flushed cheek. “Do you believe everything happens for a reason?”

  “Yes.” Ryan looked over Crystal’s head and saw Maxine walking toward them.

  “I do too, and here comes my reason,” Crystal reached around Ryan and tugged a woman into Ryan’s view. She was gorgeous, about the same height and build as Ryan. Her dark brown eyes spoke volumes as they stared into Crystal’s. “Babe, meet Ryan Campbell. Ryan, meet Robbie.”

  Ryan and Robbie shook hands while Robbie’s other hand snaked around Crystal’s waist. Ryan smiled at the sweet gestu
re and hugged Maxine as she arrived.

  “You must be Maxine, I’m—”

  “Crystal. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “And I look forward to hearing more about you,” Crystal responded.

  Maxine looked up into Ryan’s eyes, blushing.

  “So this is the famous Ryan?” Robbie whispered to Crystal.

  “This is the one and only Ryan Campbell,” Crystal said.

  Ryan only observed as Robbie brushed a tear from Crystal’s cheek. Then the two exchanged a few whispered words, but she didn’t need to hear them to understand the gist of the loving exchange. Robbie was making sure Crystal was okay. They smiled at each other before Robbie turned back to Maxine and Ryan.

  “Would you all like to join us for some dessert?” Robbie asked in a thick British accent.

  “We would love to,” Maxine answered, faster than Ryan could comprehend the question.

  As they walked down the street together, Maxine and Robbie began to chat about life in California. Ryan could scarcely believe that just a few minutes ago, she had been reliving the darkest times in her life, and now she was spending a pleasant afternoon on an impromptu double-date with Crystal and her wonderful partner.

  “How did you and Robbie meet?” Ryan asked.

  “Three years ago she was at the middle school I work for to speak about the dangers of the Internet,” Crystal explained. “Long story short, we hit it off immediately and she asked me out. I knew that she was perfect because she took me to one of your movies on our first date.”

  “You’re making that up.” Ryan listened with disbelief in her eyes.

  “Nope, I figured it was a good omen.” Crystal smiled. “Like, enjoy the future but don’t forget what the past taught you.”

  “It was a hell of a past,” Ryan commented dryly.

  “It’s also going to be one hell of a future,” Crystal answered.

  And when Ryan looked past the heartbreak and pain, she saw the future Crystal was expecting. She was able to see the hope and love not only in Maxine’s eyes but in Crystal’s and Robbie’s too. She understood now that there was no changing the past but only taking advantage of the future she was given. She kissed Maxine’s knuckles as her lover excitedly exclaimed about their life in Los Angeles.

  “That’s it, you all are coming out to Cali this summer,” Maxine demanded. “No excuses.”

  “Fine.” Crystal faked dreading it.

  “Only on one condition,” Robbie added. “We get to go to the gay parade.”

  “I guess.” Ryan pretended nonchalance.

  As the group laughed and Maxine pulled out her planner to set a date, Ryan took a moment to appreciate how much had changed since the terror of their high school days. Then, Crystal had helped her feel less lonely. Today, Crystal had helped her finally forgive herself. For the first time, she felt at peace in her hometown.

  A Tale of Modern Magic

  Olivia Dziwak

  My tale takes place on World AIDS Day in December of a year now gone by. This day of mourning and celebration of struggling for survival is the one I will always hold dear as a day of confusion, of intense joy mixed with sadness. As much as I wish a World AIDS Day wasn’t necessary on our planet, without it the social mix and atmosphere that were the key ingredients to my magical night would not have happened. I was volunteering at an AIDS dinner event, good gay teenager that I am, held at a recycled manor owned by the city and used for such somber and significant occasions as this. A whole group of my fellow Gay-Straight Alliance members had arrived along with me, all of us making the short trek from school to the house in giddy excitement at the change of scenery from our usual classroom.

  Despite Canada’s reputation for slushy winters, this early December day was a crispy autumn one, the cold air invigorating to us as we faced the prospect of spending an entire evening catering to and entertaining strangers. Yet, at the back of my mind I remembered that these were strangers facing a weighty reality. Still, we were a giddy gaggle of gay teenagers, brought short with nervousness when confronted by the imposing front door of the ageing house. Could we, the teenagers, epically tardy and chronically irresponsible, possibly be earlier than the adult organizers? Suddenly shy, we stamped around the entrance, utterly thrown off by the lack of obvious leadership. The excitement of freedom brought about from being unattended by our otherwise occupied GSA supervisor was replaced by fervent wishes he were here, to tell us what to do. There was no doorbell, for God’s sake! Our knocks went unanswered! Could we just walk in? We had no idea who actually owned the manor—maybe someone lived in there! Eventually I, the bravest (and most obnoxiously outgoing), nervously ascended the stone steps and opened the door.

  An empty brick hallway greeted us, and our obvious obstacle the door overcome, we trooped inside quickly to escape the cold. Despite being a small group we made enough noise with our restarted chatter to attract an organizer running about the house, and we were soon all roped into carrying boxes and setting up chairs in rows of increasing complexity. People began to pour in as time passed—both guests and organizers. It was one of the first times I’d ever realized how much of a community we queers really are; of course I don’t mean to imply that everyone at the AIDS day was queer, but we did constitute a heavy majority. So the evening, with many a hand helping out, began to take off. Food arrived and I was faced with the dilemma of the less-than-popular teenager: who to eat with? At school I mostly avoided the cafeteria (the tables of cliques are like labels for sexuality, and I dislike and avoid them both) and just ate with whoever showed up in front of the library, so this seating dilemma was a legitimate problem for me. I hadn’t been going to the GSA long enough to form good friends there, so in my desperation my instinct was to choose the person in the GSA who I had known the longest (though by no stretch the best). She was a golden-haired, artsy-type girl who happened to have gone to my elementary school and then popped up in my high school GSA out of the blue, to my surprise and delight. I think it’s always great to find out people from my past turned out to be queer. It makes me think that had I been brave enough to come out then, I wouldn’t have been alone.

  So, this girl. Her name was Jane, and that was all I could remember from our bygone days together, besides the fact that we were both Polish. This turned out to be enough, however, because we soon got into a discussion about similarities between cultural foods (we were eating Iranian cuisine) and the merits of the yellow mushy stuff above all other foods being served. Mealtime having been successfully survived, Jane and I were sent outside to hang a newly discovered poster for the event and to round up any stragglers and send them the right way.

  There I was, alone with a pretty girl who I was getting along with famously. And I didn’t feel the slightest bit nervous! Why? I honestly, sincerely did not think I stood a chance. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. How could it? I was a zitty junior who talked too much and too loudly, and she was the prettiest girl in the GSA, who had only deigned to eat with me because there was no one better around.

  But this is where the magic stirred. For one, we were outside without jackets or sweaters and the temperature had been dropping steadily since our arrival at the manor, so it was cold. We were already giddy; now in the cold we hit full-out-hysterical-laughter mode. We had to struggle with a huge piece of plastic-y canvas stuff, try to wrap it around another sign, and then hold it down with twine, some badly sticking tape, and malfunctioning scissors. All as fast as possible because of the chill. The entire production felt like slapstick comedy. But somehow this mind-numbing temperature made two girls who had only ever bonded over yellow mush open up to each other. She told me how bad it would be if her parents saw this sign we were trying so hard to put up, and I told her that with our skills at poster placement it would probably just blow away anyway. She laughed. We talked about Polish families, how conservative they can be, how much we tend to stick together in Canada and how weird it would be if our respective younger siblings dated each othe
r. And just before we reentered the house Jane, hand poised on the doorknob, standing two steps above me and looking lovely in the fading light, turned to me and said:

  “You know, you’d be the perfect girlfriend. If you were a guy, my parents would love you.”

  I was deaf to that second part, for the simple reason that I momentarily stopped breathing and lost the ability to do anything at all but laugh nervously. Wild, leaping joy flooded me followed immediately with boot-shaking fear: Oh shit, were we flirting this whole time?! I didn’t know that! Do I say something? Do I ask her out? Is she asking me to ask her out? WHAT DO I DO? Luck was on the side of the gibbering idiot that night, because despite having turned almost as red as me at her own words, Jane had the courage to follow up with, “But seriously, we should hang out sometime.”

  Hang out. Say all you want about the degradation of romantic language—those words held greater promise for me that night than any other two in my entire life. Sure, it wasn’t a proper asking-out, nor did it guarantee an actual date. Or romantic feeling from her side. Or anything at all, except an interest in the brief connection we had forged. But it meant she was willing to let me stare at her in awe for a bit more, so it was good enough in my books.

  We headed back to our volunteer duties. As I returned to storing away chairs after dinner, I couldn’t help but wander the manor halls in whatever configuration I could to try to catch glimpses of her. And grin at her. And feel confused and awkward, walk away, freak out for a bit, and repeat. My suspicion grew with every moment; I think she really likes me. But here was an irrefutable problem: She also barely knew me. It wasn’t like we had ever really talked before! So this was probably just a brief flight of fancy, a pretty girl taking pity on me. The only person who could convince me otherwise was Jane herself, who at a lull in our duties pulled me aside to an abandoned hallway where we both slouched against a wall. The conversation came round to the school dance that had happened a few days previously. I had gone to the dance with a small group of friends and spent most of the night with one in particular. We had teased each other into pretending we were a couple, since neither of us wanted to show up at the dance dateless.