by Jae
We ended up losing the game 14-6. The center fielder who had come in to play catcher had let ten girls steal home.
And this is the part I am still ashamed of to this day. After that loss, I cornered Jenny in the senior hallway and begged her to come back. I laid it on pretty thick. Even when I saw her shoulders tense up, I still talked about what another championship would mean for the team and the school. I only stopped when the tears swelled in her eyes.
“God, Jenny, I’m sorry.” I dropped my hand on her shoulder before walking away from her for good.
As I said, Jenny Marsh was my biggest failure as a coach.
That tearful girl in the hallway was long gone. Before me at the podium stood a confident woman in a dark pantsuit with short, cropped hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a broad, charismatic smile.
“Hi, I’m Jen Marsh,” she said. “And I love my job, too. I am a staff attorney for the National Center for LGBTQ Youth.”
Another one who had made something of her life. But it made sense that Jenny Marsh, who had wanted to cheer for everyone, had grown up to root for the people who had no one. And I had been the one who tried to talk her out of her convictions.
“But I’m not here to talk about me. I am here to talk about Erin Levy. A high school freshman, a girl just like many of you.” She waved a hand out to the audience and smiled again. A few of the girls nodded in response. “Except that she is not like you. She started out as Aaron—A-a-r-o-n—Levy. A boy who felt trapped in his body, imprisoned by his maleness. You’re not going to believe this, but she was one of the lucky ones. Her parents did not place her in conversion therapy. They didn’t pay a doctor or a charlatan hard cash to convince their daughter that she was really their son.”
The face of a pretty, slight girl popped onto the screen behind her. Erin, I gathered. The kids murmured their disbelief as a series of pictures flashed of Erin at the beach, playing tennis, running around with a large collie—she looked so innocent and happy, and above all, so feminine.
“Unbelievably, courageously, her parents went with it. They got her a state I.D. card and a passport which recognized her as female. They let her grow her hair long, put on a skirt, and moved to another school district where they enrolled their daughter as a freshman in the local high school. They hoped and prayed that Erin would find respect, and more importantly, a new, safe home.”
Jenny took a breath as her audience, children and adults alike, shifted in their seats. We were in the hands of a master. She knew exactly when we needed a minute to grapple with this story of a pretty young girl and where it was going.
“Her parents did everything right. They informed the new school of Erin’s history and fought for their daughter every step of the way. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what high school is like. Within a month, everyone knew. Erin was banned from the girls’ restroom and had to use the teachers’ restroom instead. Imagine if you had to go to the front office and ask permission every single time you needed to go?”
Nervous laughter filled the room. Jenny rocked back on her feet a little and settled deeper into the story. I leaned forward in my chair, almost as if to get closer to her words. She was that good.
“That wasn’t the half of it. I’m sure you can imagine the teasing and bullying that she endured. And ladies, I hate to break it to you, but the girls at that school were so much meaner than the boys. Finally, everything exploded when the freshmen went on a bonding retreat, and all the girls refused to room with her. The school had to request an extra cabin, and when no faculty member stepped up to be a chaperone, her mother had to do it.”
She actually got a few gasps at this point—a freshman’s worst nightmare was a parent chaperoning anything.
“That’s when they came to us. We filed a suit under the state’s anti-discrimination act, since clearly the school’s actions created a hostile, intimidating, and unsafe environment. People mistake gender identity with sexual orientation all the time. Sexual orientation is all about who you love and might want to marry someday, but gender identity is who you are deep in your core. It may seem silly, but denying Erin the right to use the girls’ restroom at her school denies her soul. All she wanted was the same dignity, respect, and opportunities afforded to other girls everywhere. That’s what she deserved. And that’s what we got. The court ruled in our favor.”
The audience let out a collective breath. A boy right in front of me pumped his fist and gave a soft hoot.
“That’s right, a high point for transgender rights, but it’s not over. There is still so much to do, there and here, too. Maybe you don’t have an Erin at this school, but I’m sure you still have a lot of people like I used to be. Someone who knew she identified as a lesbian way before high school. Someone who was so scared she wouldn’t be accepted that she actually had a few suicidal thoughts. I made it, obviously, but there are lots of kids who don’t. It doesn’t take much to help those kids who might be in this room right now.”
The kids—and the teachers, too—all glanced at their neighbors. Julie reached over to give my leg a friendly squeeze.
“Create a space on campus that is safe and openly welcoming to all LGBTQ kids. By the way, the Q is for questioning, so these safe spaces are for just about everyone. A counselor’s office maybe, or a certain classroom, or a Gay-Straight Alliance. Everyone needs the opportunity to live an authentic life. And you can be part of that change.” She smiled broadly. “Thank you very much.”
Swept up in the fairy tale ending of her story, the audience clapped loudly. Charlie swung his hands up toward the roof, and the crowd got to its feet. Jenny blushed at the standing ovation and shrugged as if to say what else can we do? I jumped to my feet as well, driven as much by shame as by inspiration.
“Alyx, I gotta go. I have a class next block.” Julie pulled me into a brief hug. “If I don’t see you before break, have a great vacation. Merry Christmas.”
“You too.” We smiled at each other.
“Wish me luck,” she said.
“I’m sure you don’t need it.” With that smile, William would be a fool many times over if he didn’t get down on bended knee in Germany.
Julie slid out the back and most of the kids followed her, eager to grab the last precious minutes before afternoon classes began. Others headed to the podium. Most sidled up to Charlie, whose affectations made him a perennial favorite with the students, but a few nervously approached Jenny. A boy in shorts a little too short asked her how to make a GSA club meaningful and not just a place where kids could get free pizza, and a tough girl in cowboy boots talked to her about volunteer opportunities with her organization. I stood off to the side, listening to her answer their questions patiently and thoughtfully, and for the umpteenth time that day wondered what I was doing with my life. What made it worse was that Jenny had given a vocabulary to my funk. Was there anything about my life that was authentic?
The kids finally cleared out, and Jenny looked at me. Heat flooded my face almost instantly. The last time we had been together, I was trying to convince her to give up all her principles.
“Hi, Coach,” she said.
“Hi.” An awkward silence fell between us, and I struggled for something to say. “Thank you, Jenny, for representing all of us so well. You’re truly amazing. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Are you kidding? I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“What?” Surely I had heard wrong. “What are you talking about?”
“Coach, you were and still are my role model.”
“For what?” I laughed nervously. “For trying to get you to play a game that was obviously way beneath you? Look, I am so sorry about that. You quit and I should have respected your feelings—”
“Coach, stop. You wanted to win, I get that. It’s your job, after all. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What, then?”
&nbs
p; “There was this game, right before I quit, when your girlfriend showed up to support us. I watched you as you went over to say hello. You hugged her, and then you kissed her on the lips. Right in front of everyone. I’m sure you don’t remember it.”
She was dead wrong. I remembered that moment well. When Demi had said she wanted to come to that game, I had gone back and forth on whether to officially invite her. I was out to the faculty, and with my cropped hair and androgynous clothes, I wasn’t trying to hide anything from the kids. But that was a far cry from parading my girlfriend in front of the whole school. When Demi showed up, I went over to her intending just to say hi, but she looked so cute in our school colors and team visor that I threw all caution to the wind and kissed her.
“It looked so loving and natural.” Jenny broke into my thoughts. “And that was the exact moment when I knew I’d be okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, I knew you were gay, we all did, but I couldn’t believe the earth didn’t open and swallow you up. You looked like you had a nice, normal life, and that’s when I thought that maybe I could, too.”
“Oh, Jenny, I had no idea.” Another round of embarrassment whipped through me. Apparently, I couldn’t recognize authenticity even when it bit me on the ass.
“You were all I needed, Coach. I was grappling with my sexuality and there was no place that I felt safe. Not here and not at home, but seeing you with your girlfriend—that gave me the courage to be who I needed to be. Even if it meant quitting softball and coming out to my parents after graduation.”
We just looked at each other. I didn’t know what to say, but finally managed, “She’s my wife now.”
Jenny’s eyes sparkled with real happiness. “Congratulations. I’m married, too. Her name’s Kristen. We’re expecting our first child next month.”
“Oh, my goodness. That’s wonderful!” Joy flooded through me, its warmth spreading all the way to my toes. Jenny reached out with both arms, and I stepped into a big bear hug. Her words came in a whisper, her mouth right at my ear.
“You saved me, Coach.”
“And you’ve saved me right back.”
Sometimes, you don’t have to struggle to find meaning in things. It’s right there all along.
I couldn’t stop grinning. Everything had turned out so much better than I hoped. How often does that happen?
Twinkling lights sparkled from every tree in our backyard. A huge bouquet of white and red roses laced with holiday touches of pine cones, evergreen boughs, and holly sat on the picnic table. Delicate mist from dry ice poured out of the fountain in the back corner. I had spent the whole day slaving like a madwoman, and now I stood in a magical winter wonderland.
Demi’s favorite songs played softly on a loop in the background, and the scent of a freshly baked cake wafted through the air. Even Clayton and Wesley, our normally crazy golden labs, hadn’t scratched off the big bows attached to their collars. In fact, they sat quietly on either side of me, ears up, as if they knew exactly what was going on.
Clayton’s tail flapped against the ground, and I heard the front door open and close.
“Babe? Where are you?” Demi’s voice was low and melodic, as always.
“Out here.” The nervous catch in my voice surprised me. It wasn’t like I didn’t already know the answer.
A small thud sounded as her briefcase hit the dining room table. “Where?”
“In back.”
Demi’s jaw dropped as she opened the sliding glass door. “Oh, my God. What’s all this?” She spun around to take it all in and laughed softly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
“Well…” I took her hand and led her back to the spot between the dogs, then dropped to one knee and looked up at her expectant face. “It has come to my attention that while I love you dearly and I believe that we have a very happy marriage, it didn’t quite start out precisely how it should have.”
“No?” Demi’s eyes softened. “And how do you propose to remedy that?”
“See, you already know.”
“Know what?”
“This.” I took her hand with both of mine and squeezed gently. “Demi Balsan, I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. I’m not sure I knew it then, but I know it now. In fact, I didn’t even know how much love was in the world until I met you. You give my life significance and joy and laughter and a thousand other things that I can’t even put words to. You would make me the happiest woman alive if you became my wife.”
Tears filled Demi’s eyes as she pulled me up. “We’re already married, silly.”
“Yes, I know. But I don’t remember asking you, or you asking me.” I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her close. Her eyes were clear and bright, the reflections from the fairy lights dancing in their deep brown. “Do you?”
“No.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Come to think of it, I don’t.”
“So will you? Demi, my sweet love, will you marry me?”
“I will.” Her smile broadened into a grin, and we laughed together.
“Then all is right with my world.”
I leaned in to kiss Demi and seal the deal. Our lips met the way they had a million times before, but this kiss felt fresh and new, and dare I say it, authentic.
The dogs raced around the yard, barking their joy, as if released by invisible hands. The mist bubbled up from the fountain and enclosed us all in a magical world of our own making.
And there it was: the moment that would create our proposal story, and for us, even better than a romantic cruise.
If any of the other teachers at school asked what I did over winter break, I would tell them quite simply that I asked my wife to marry me.
And she said yes.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Jove Belle
Jove Belle lives in Vancouver, Washington with her family. Her books include The Job, Uncommon Romance, Love and Devotion, Indelible, Chaps, Split the Aces, and Edge of Darkness.
Connect with this author:
Website: jovebelle.com
B.A. Caldwell
A native Oregonian, B.A. Caldwell worked in book publishing, corporate communications, and healthcare before returning to school for a library science degree. With graduate school out of the way, she found she finally had the time to do something she had been thinking about for many years: fiction writing. By day she works in a medical library, and by night she tries to get some writing done. She enjoys writing and reading (of course) as well as photography, crafting, and spending time with her family. She lives in a 100-year-old house in Portland, Oregon, with her son and too many cats.
Connect with this author:
Website: bacaldwell.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Eve Francis
Eve Francis’s short stories have appeared in Wilde Magazine, The Fieldstone Review, Iris New Fiction, MicroHorror, and The Human Echoes Podcast. Romance and horror are her favourite genres to write in because everyone has felt love or fear in some form or another. She lives in Canada, where she often sleeps late, spends too much time online, and repeatedly watches old horror movies and Orange Is The New Black.
Connect with this author:
Website: evefrancis.wordpress.com
Tumblr: paintitback.tumblr.com
Lois Cloarec Hart
Born and raised in British Columbia, Canada, Lois Cloarec Hart grew up as an avid reader but didn’t begin writing until much later in life. Several years after joining the Canadian Armed Forces, she received a degree in Honours History from Royal Military College and on graduation switched occupations from air traffic control to military intelligence. Having married a CAF fighter pilot while in college, Lois went on to spend another five years as an Intelligence Officer before leaving the military to care for her husband, who was ill with chronic progr
essive Multiple Sclerosis and passed away in 2001. She began writing while caring for her husband in his final years and had her first book, Coming Home, published in 2001. It was through that initial publishing process that Lois met the woman she would marry in April 2007. She now commutes annually between her northern home in Calgary and her wife’s southern home in Atlanta.
Connect with this author:
Website: loiscloarechart.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Catherine Lane
Catherine Lane started to write fiction on a dare from her wife. She’s thrilled to be a published author, even though she had to admit her wife was right. They live happily in Southern California with their son and a very mischievous pound puppy.
Catherine spends most of her time these days working, mothering, or writing. But when she finds herself at loose ends, she enjoys experimenting with recipes in the kitchen, paddling on long stretches of flat water, and browsing the stacks at libraries and bookstores. Oh, and trying unsuccessfully to outwit her dog.
She has published a novel, The Set Piece, and several short stories and is currently working on a second novel.
Connect with this author:
Website: catherinelanefiction.wordpress.com/
Facebook: facebook.com/profile.php?id=100004577749399
E-mail: [email protected]
Patricia Penn
When Patricia was a teen, her school’s job qualification test said that she should be a surgeon since she has a big ego, and she doesn’t like other people. Later, she read a theory about how all authors secretly are social outcasts anyway, and decided that the pen suited her even better than the scalpel. She currently also sells her soul to a day job in marketing in Frankfurt, Germany. She lives with her dog in a small town near Frankfurt, and has given long-distance relationships a new meaning with her girlfriend, who lives in Massachusetts.
