My mom and I have this unusually open relationship. Some kids assume it’s because my mom is pretty young for a mom, but I think it’s mostly because it’s just me and mom—my dad split a long time ago. But it’s also possible that this closeness is due to the fact that she’s Caucasian and I’m biracial. As a result, she has spent a lot of time talking to me and counseling me, trying to prepare me for all the “challenges” that she has always assumed would come my way. Fortunately, my challenges (well, until today) have not been all that challenging.
“Do you really want to know?” I ask her, unsure if I can actually say these words out loud.
“Of course I want to know, Ramie. What is wrong with Jess?” Mom stops for a red light, then suddenly turns and peers at me with wide blue eyes. “She’s not pregnant, is she?”
“Mom!” But even as I act shocked by her question, I’m thinking it would be highly preferable, at least to me, if Jess was pregnant. I seriously think I could deal with something like that.
“Well, you know me. Since I got pregnant when I was only twenty, well, I suppose I just have some natural paranoia about that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, Mom, believe me, I know.” Like how many lectures have I had on this subject? Not that she should be worried. I made an abstinence pledge years ago, and I have no intentions of backing out of it anytime soon. Of course, my mom, who is not a Christian, doesn’t really get this. And I suppose that’s the reason she always feels like she has to be on her guard about these things.
“So.” Mom sighs as she proceeds across the intersection. “That’s a relief. But tell me, Ramie, what is wrong with Jess? Did she get in trouble with her parents over something? What’s up? Tell me.”
“It’s just so horrible,” I begin, trying to think of some way to say this thing, some way to get the words out without starting to feel physically ill all over again.
“What is it, Ramie?” says Mom with real sympathy. “Oh, please don’t tell me that Jess is—is sick. One of my clients just found out her son has leukemia, the really bad kind. Oh, please tell me that Jess doesn’t have—”
“No!” I snap at my mom. “She does not have cancer.”
“Oh good.” Mom sighs again. “So, what is it then?”
Okay, God forgive me, but I’m thinking I’d prefer that Jess did have cancer. Not something as serious as my mom’s client’s son, of course. And I do feel bad about this. I know it just shows that I’m a selfish and horrible person, but at least they have cures for cancer nowadays, don’t they? But can anyone cure gay?
“Jess is a lesbian!” I blurt.
My mom is quiet for about a minute, as if she is taking this in. “Well, that’s not so bad, Ramie.”
“Not so bad?” I practically scream. “Jess is—rather, she was—my best friend. We have been best friends for like . . . like, forever! How can she possibly be a lesbian?”
Mom just nods, like she’s still processing this news flash. But I can tell she’s not greatly disturbed by it. I’m sure this is because of two things. (1) She’s a family counselor, so she’s “seen it all,” and (2) She is not a Christian, and she thinks homosexuality is all okay. Well, fine. A lot of good it did for me to dump on her like this. I turn away from her and glare out the passenger’s side window. I can’t believe my best friend does something like this and then my mom takes her side. Why couldn’t I have had a Christian parent? Someone who gets me?
Then it occurs to me that Jess does have Christian parents, strong Christian parents! It was probably mostly due to their influence, and Jess’s too, that I ever started going to church in the first place and, consequently, that I gave my heart to the Lord when I was twelve. I remember how happy her family was for me. I can also recall about a year later when Mr. LeCroix took Jess and me out for ice-cream sundaes, shortly after we signed our abstinence pledges at church, and I remember how he gave us both our True Love Waits rings. I twist the thin band of gold around my finger and wonder how Jess’s parents are going to handle this. Maybe they won’t. Maybe Mr. LeCroix will put his foot down and forbid it. Maybe he will tell Jess that she cannot be gay, that the Bible will not allow it, and that will be the end of this whole miserable business. Oh, if only life were that simple.
“Ramie.” My mom says my name in that tone that suggests that she’s been talking and I haven’t been listening.
“Huh?”
“I was just telling you that you’re going to have to deal with this.”
“Deal with it?”
“Yes. you need to accept that Jessica is homosexual. And it’s not her fault; it’s just the way she is. People are born that way, Ramie. And the sooner you can accept this, the sooner you can help her with—”
“Help her?” I turn and stare at my mother.
She nods. “Yes. Jessica is going to need help with this, Ramie. It’s not easy telling people about your sexual orientation. It was very brave of her to come out to you. That shows she really trusts you, but more than ever right now she needs her friends to support—”
“Forget it!” I firmly shake my head. “I am not her friend, Mom. Not anymore. If Jess wants to be a lesbian, well fine, that’s her stupid choice and I don’t have to—”
“It’s not a choice, Ramie.”
“Says who?”
“Says most of the experts, dear. you don’t treat it—”
“Just because some stupid shrinks say homosexuality is okay and that people are born that way, which I seriously doubt anyone can prove, does not mean that God says it’s okay. The Bible makes that pretty clear, Mom.”
“Not everyone happens to believe that, sweetie.” She turns and smiles at me with that patronizing expression she likes to wear when we don’t agree on something that has to do with religion or the Bible. I’m sure this is only because she was raised by my very uptight and overly religious grandparents. They think everything is a sin. And they’ve never gotten over her having a baby “out of wedlock,” not to mention a mixed-race baby as well. In other words, my know-it-all counselor mom has her own issues.
“You mean not everyone believes the Bible?” I ask for clarification. “Because that’s like duh, Mom. I know that some people don’t believe the Bible. I’m just saying that I—”
“No, that’s not what I meant, Ramie. I’m trying to say that not even all Christians believe homosexuality is wrong. For instance, I have a client right now who is openly gay. And I happen to know that he and his partner were married in a church.”
“Not a Christian church,” I counter.
“Yes, it was,” she insists. “And he said it was a fairly traditional Christian church. I can’t recall what denomination.”
“Well, it was probably some weirdo, kinky kind of church. Not like the church where I go.”
“And where Jessica goes.”
“Used to go.”
“You mean they won’t allow her to go there if she’s a lesbian?”
I consider this. “I guess I don’t really know for sure. But I do know they’ll think that it’s a sin. I’m sure they will.”
“Well, I’ll never understand that,” she says as she pulls into the garage that’s attached to our townhouse.
“What?”
“How churches can turn their backs on people like that. People in need.”
“I didn’t say that,” I tell her as we get out.
She just shakes her head as she reaches into the backseat for her briefcase. “It was implied, Ramie. And besides, I’ve seen it enough times before. I know that it happens. And that is one of the main reasons you won’t catch me going to church.” She closes the door with a bang. “People who live in glass houses should not throw stones!”
I want to ask her what that’s supposed to mean, but I am too frustrated to speak right now. And I sure don’t want another lecture. Okay, I realize that Mom and I don’t agree on everything. But this is probably one of the biggest things we’ve ever disagreed on before. I really do feel betrayed. Sure, she might think tha
t homosexuality is just fine for Jess, but what about me? Can’t she see how Jess’s decision is impacting me? What am I supposed to do with that? My mom might be a counselor, but she is clueless when it comes to helping her own daughter.
four
JESS AND I USUALLY GO TO YOUTH GROUP TOGETHER ON SATURDAY NIGHTS. But I have no intention of going there with her tonight. Although, after her big revelation today, I wonder whether she will actually go. I mean wouldn’t she be worried that I might tell someone? That the word will get out and everyone will be whispering behind her back, avoiding her, treating her like she has cooties? Seriously, how embarrassed would she be if our youth group knew?
Unless this is all just part of her whacked-out plan. Maybe she took some kind of coming-out class, like How to Destroy your Life in One Easy Lesson. What if she plans to show up at youth group and come out of the closet in front of God and everyone tonight? If that’s the case, I’d just as soon lay low. I do not want to be around to witness something so freaky. I’ve had enough stress already today.
But around six o’clock I begin to question this decision. I mean why should I allow Jess’s craziness to drive me away from my chance for fellowship? And just when I happen to need it most! I have as much right to be there as she does. In fact, in light of her recent disclosure, I might even have more. At least I haven’t chosen a deviant and sinful lifestyle. So at six thirty, after polishing off some leftover spaghetti, I decide to call BJ. She’s a close friend of both mine and Jess’s, and I wonder if she’s heard the latest.
“This is Ramie,” I say to Mrs. Trestle as I put my empty bowl into the dishwasher. “Is BJ there?”
“Bethany Jane!” her mom calls out. “Ramie wants to speak to you.”
I listen to the silence for a few seconds. “Hey, Ramie,” says BJ. “What’s up?”
I can tell by the upbeat tone of her voice that she doesn’t know about Jess yet. “I, uh, I wondered if I could catch a ride with you to youth group tonight,” I say. “I mean if you’re going. Are you?”
“Yeah, sure. I was just about to leave. But don’t you usually ride with Jess? Is she sick or something?”
“I . . . uh . . . I’m not really sure.”
“Are you okay, Ramie? you sound kinda weird.”
“It’s been a hard day,” I admit. “Maybe I can tell you about it later.”
“Sure. I’ll pick you up in about fifteen.”
“Cool.”
So I make a quick dash up to my room, change into a hot pink turtleneck sweater that my mom thinks looks really great on me, put on some silver hoop earrings, and reapply a fresh layer of my new lip gloss. Then I actually take a few minutes to primp a little. For some reason it feels important to look extra feminine tonight. I even consider putting on that new bra that’s still in the pink Victoria’s Secret bag, but now I hear my mom calling me.
I grab my letterman jacket from the hook on the back of my door, then step out of my room and look down to the family room where Mom is standing. “What?”
“Is Jess picking you up for youth group tonight?” she asks with this curious and hopeful smile. Like she’s thinking that whatever happened today will just miraculously blow over. Like I’m just going to forget that Jess has this warped fondness for chicks and move on. yeah, right.
“Nope.” I slip into my jacket. “BJ’s giving me a ride tonight.”
Mom places her hands on her hips and frowns up at me. “What about Jess?”
“What about Jess?” I turn away from her and go to my room to get my purse. But as I go down the stairs, she’s still standing there, giving me that look.
“You’re not just deserting her, are you, Ramie?”
I sling the strap of my purse over my shoulder and lock eyes with my mom. “Who deserted who?”
“Jess is in a tough place right now. Aren’t you at least a little concerned about her?”
“Of course I’m concerned. I think she’s lost her freaking mind. Why wouldn’t that concern me?”
“But you’re just going to cut her off? Quit being her friend simply because she told you that she’s gay?”
I kind of shrug, then glance at the clock above the fireplace. “BJ should be here by now,” I say quickly. “I’m going outside to meet her.”
Mom just shakes her head as I walk past her. I can tell she is judging me, that she thinks I’m totally selfish, not to mention a worthless kind of friend. But then again my mom is not a Christian. She doesn’t understand that the Bible draws clear lines between right and wrong, good and evil, gay and straight. My mom doesn’t even believe in absolutes. How can she possibly get me?
“So what’s up?” BJ asks as I get into her almost brand-new VW Bug. I still can’t believe her parents got her this for her sixteenth birthday last summer. But then they’ve got money, and they probably think it’s no big deal. And, as BJ told her friends, they also promised to take it away from her if her grades don’t stay up. Not that they need to be worried. BJ’s GPA is close to perfect and everyone is pretty sure she’ll end up being valedictorian. Still, I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy as I smell that new car smell and eye the little bud vase where she keeps a fake daisy. I mean she’s only sixteen and I just turned seventeen in October and I still don’t have a car. Not even an old one!
“Have you talked to Jess?” I venture as she pulls into traffic.
“Like since when?”
“You know, like today.”
“No, I haven’t seen her since basketball practice yesterday. By the way, you were looking really good out there, Ramie. I heard Coach Ackley telling Mrs. Cole that we might have a chance at state if you keep playing like that once the season starts.”
I kind of shrug. “That’s cool.”
“So what’s the deal with Jess? Why didn’t you ride with her tonight? Not that I mind giving you a ride. But is she sick or something? I mean she seemed perfectly fine at practice. In fact, her game was looking pretty good too.”
I’m not sure how much to say. I mean it’s one thing for Jess to confide in me. I am, or rather I was, her best friend. But I’m just not sure whether I have the right to tell anyone else. “She’s not sick,” I tell BJ. “Well, not physically anyway.”
“What do you mean? Is she going mental on us or something? Did she have some kind of meltdown?”
“Sort of.” I let out a big sigh. “But I think she should tell you herself, BJ. I mean she only told me today, and it was kind of shocking, but I don’t know if it’s okay for me to tell anyone yet.”
“Man, now you really got me curious. Now that I think about it, she has been kind of quiet lately. But she’s been at every practice and she plays good and hard, so I’m thinking it’s not like she’s doing drugs or anything. Is she?” BJ looks worried.
I kind of laugh. “No, she’s definitely not doing drugs.”
“But she’s not coming to youth group. Has she fallen away from the Lord or something?”
“I . . . I’m not really sure. you’ll have to ask her that yourself.”
“So, she might be there tonight?”
“Maybe. I don’t really know.”
“Did you guys have a fight?”
“No, not exactly. But her, uh, her little announcement has put kind of a damper on our friendship.”
“Ah-hah!” BJ sounds excited now, like she might’ve stumbled onto the right answer. “Do you two like the same guy?”
“No, no,” I say quickly.
“Are you sure? I mean I noticed that you’ve kind of had your eye on Mitch Bryant lately. Do you think that Jess is—”
“No,” I insist. “It’s nothing like that. But what’re you talking about? How did you know I like Mitch? I mean not that I do.”
She laughs. “Yeah, right. Hey, I’m not stupid, Ramie. I saw you talking to him during practice last week. you seemed pretty tuned in to every word he was saying and he was eyeing you like he—”
“Hey, he was just being nice. He came by to help the coach with
that new laptop that’s been driving him nuts. Then Mitch gave me a little shooting pointer,” I tell her, which isn’t completely untrue. “And it actually worked. Remember, he used to be pretty good, back in middle school anyway.”
“Well, you could clean his clock now, Ramie.”
I laugh. “Yeah, right.”
To my relief, we talk about basketball and my possibilities with Mitch during the rest of the short drive to church.
“Do you think Mitch will be here tonight?” BJ asks as we walk toward the lit-up youth building.
“I wouldn’t have the slightest clue,” I tell her. And that’s the truth. I mean, despite the fact that Mitch’s dad is the senior pastor here (a fact I still can’t completely wrap my mind around), Mitch has been pretty random when it comes to going to youth group or camps or anything. I mean, I’m sure he must be a Christian and everything. But he’s just never been that into the youth activities.
When we get inside the building, I’m pleasantly surprised to see that Mitch is actually here. He’s leaning against the doorframe and talking to Nathan Gallagher, our youth pastor.
“Hey, Ramie,” Mitch says to me as we pause by the door. “Hey, BJ. What’s up?”
I smile at him. “Not much.”
“These girls have been looking really hot out there on the basketball court lately,” he says to Nathan.
“Basketball?” asks Nathan with interest.
“Yeah,” says BJ. “Games don’t start until after Christmas.”
“And I thought you were just into volleyball and soccer, Ramie.”
“It’s a way to keep in shape,” I tell him.
“Well, she’s doing way more than that,” says Mitch. “The girls’ varsity team has some real potential.”
I shrug. “We’re okay.”
Then Mitch gives me a playful punch in the arm. “Ramie’s too humble. you should see her. She’s a star.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m okay.” I nod toward BJ. “But you should see this girl on defense. Our team wouldn’t have a chance if she didn’t get in there and steal the ball the way she does.”
Bright Purple: Color Me Confused with Bonus Content Page 2
