Our Own Private Universe

by Robin Talley

  I looked away again so she couldn’t tell I was smiling.

  Christa had a boyfriend. If we really did hook up, a little summer thing was all we could have anyway. We’d say goodbye at the end of the trip with no harm done. It would be a fling. Exactly like the one Lori and I had fantasized about that morning.

  Maybe it wasn’t even a big deal that I’d lied about my music. It wasn’t as if Christa and I were getting married. For a summer fling, getting all the details right didn’t matter quite so much.

  This was my chance to see if I really liked girls. It would be an experiment. The coolest experiment ever.

  Suddenly I felt very sophisticated. Or, as Christa had said, modern. Why should we have to stick to rules about monogamy that some old white guys made up a million years ago? We were young. We should be having fun.

  Christa was looking at me expectantly.

  “I...um...” I sounded horribly inarticulate after all that amazing stuff she’d said about universes. “It would be a total secret, right?”

  Christa nodded. Good. I couldn’t picture going up to Dad after he was done leading us in one of his long, rambling prayers at vespers and telling him I was bisexual. Or anything-sexual.

  Come to think of it, we were probably already late for vespers. Oh, well.

  Christa was still watching me. Waiting.

  I took a step closer to her. She looked right at me. The smile was in her eyes as much as her lips.

  Oh, God. We were going to kiss.

  I thought I’d be nervous, but I wasn’t.

  I felt awesome, actually. Better than I remembered feeling in, well, ever.

  So when Christa stepped toward me, I didn’t wait. I leaned over and pressed my lips against hers.

  I could feel her smiling as she kissed me back.

  And...oh.

  She tasted like the sky.

  Kissing her felt sweet and strong and urgent all at the same time. As though we were made to kiss each other.

  We didn’t bump against each other awkwardly, the way I usually did with boys. Instead we kissed gently. Slowly.

  I’d never kissed anyone that way before. As though it really meant something. I wasn’t sure what it meant, exactly, but I didn’t care.

  After that things got kind of—well—intense. She ran her hands along my back. I played with her hair. It turned out the pink streak wasn’t real. It was just clipped in, as I discovered when I accidentally pulled it out. We both giggled at that, but only for a second, because kissing required every bit of attention we had.

  When we finally pulled apart, I felt breathless and raw, and it was getting dark. I should’ve been worried—we were late for vespers, and we were out in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country—but my heart was beating too hard to focus on anything but Christa.

  She looked as if she felt the same way. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Our arms were still wrapped around each other, and our breasts were touching through our clothes. I thought again about that bra strap poking out from her tank top earlier. I was getting flushed, too.

  “We should go to vespers,” I said. “Dad will notice if I’m not there.”

  “Okay.”

  But we didn’t let go.

  I closed my eyes, but I could still see the stars overhead.

  “We should, um.” I tried not to think about how she felt. “We should go.”

  We kissed again. And again after that.

  The stars were all around us, spinning, whirling, carrying me off with them into the sky.

  By the time we finally left those hills, kissing Christa was the only thing I ever wanted to do.

  PART 2

  If I Was Your Girlfriend

  CHAPTER 5

  “So did you full-on hook up or just make out?”

  “Shut it, Lori!” I darted my head from side to side. No one was close enough to hear, but still. “Discretion, please!”

  Lori laughed. “I need to know if it counts toward the tally. Three hookups, remember?”

  “Well, this definitely counts as one.”

  “Mmm, I’m not sure. Did you only go to first base?”

  I put my hands on my hips, tucking the ball of pale purple thread I was untangling into my palm. “That’s none of your business!”

  “Yeah, right.” Lori laughed again.

  She had a point. I’d been dying to tell Lori what happened ever since Christa and I stopped kissing last night. Actually, maybe even before that. I vaguely remembered looking forward to telling Lori about kissing Christa while I was still actively in the process of kissing Christa.

  But I had to wait. By the time we got to vespers that night the meeting was already halfway over, and there was no chance to talk. Christa and I had slunk in through the shadows from the candlelight while Señor Suarez played hymns on a beautiful old twelve-string guitar. We’d kept our heads bent as if we were praying. Dad didn’t say anything about it, so he must’ve thought we were there the whole time.

  All through the prayers and the singing, it was impossible to act normal. I kept running my fingers over my lips and sneaking glances at Christa. She was glancing at me, too.

  After vespers, we all walked back to the old church in a big group. Then we waited in line to use one of the two indoor toilets. (Everyone hated the porta-potties. Some of the guys had started peeing outside so they wouldn’t have to wait in line. It was so gross.)

  After that we went to bed in the dark again. All around us, people talked and laughed and acted as if it were any other night. For them, I guess it was.

  Now, finally, I had my chance to tell Lori all the details. We were sitting on the blanket outside the work site. In a couple of hours we’d meet with the local girls and teach them a simple lanyard knot to make friendship bracelets. That should keep them busy for a few days at least. We had to sort the thread first, though. It had come out of Lori’s suitcase pocket in a big tangled pile.

  “It’s weird,” I said. “This is the first time I’ve ever seriously been into a girl, and the thing is, I don’t remember ever liking a guy as much as I like her. So what’s that about? I mean, I could be just as into a guy, right? I’ve been into guys before, but not this much. What I’m saying is, this doesn’t mean I’m not bi anymore, does it?”

  I’d never thought this much about what it really meant to be bi. I should probably be talking to Christa about it instead of Lori, since Christa would relate more, but I couldn’t exactly analyze our relationship with her.

  I’d already told Lori all about Christa’s boyfriend situation, though, and Lori, at least, seemed to think it was perfectly normal. Apparently her mom was always watching some old TV show where couples were constantly taking breaks and having flings and fighting with their significant others about it. Once Lori told me that, I actually felt weirdly better about the whole situation.

  “Well?” I asked Lori now. “What do you think?”

  Lori looked up from the threads that wound between her fingers. “I’ve got to be honest, Aki, babe, I didn’t quite follow all that.”

  “It’s only—I should know by now, shouldn’t I? If I’m straight or gay or bi or, I don’t know, whatever? I mean, I’m fifteen already. If I haven’t figured this out yet, am I ever going to?”

  Lori frowned. “I don’t know. I think I’ve always known I was straight. I never thought I might be anything else, at least. Well, there was that girl at camp one time who I thought I had a crush on but we were, like, eight, so...”

  “Yeah, see? You’re supposed to have always known. Crap. What if I never hook up with a guy again? Then how will I be sure?”

  Lori put her thread down. “Don’t you want to hook up with her again?”

  “Oh, well I mean, yeah, of course. I’m only thinking
ahead.”

  “Since we’ve only been here for a day, I’d recommend concentrating on the girl at hand.” Lori poked through the pile to find the blue strands. “You know you’re a total badass, by the way. Going to first base lesbian-style your very first day in an exotic land.”

  I grinned. “No one’s ever called me a badass before.”

  “Get used to it, badass.” Lori bumped my shoulder, making me drop the lanyard strands I’d been sorting. I bumped her back. “Now I’ve gotta get moving on my own end of the bargain so we can both be badasses.”

  “Yeah? With who? Paul?”

  “No, actually, I’m—”

  “Wait, Paul’s a badass? Since when?”

  A shadow loomed over us. I looked up slowly, worried one of the chaperones had caught us cursing.

  Nope. It was Christa.

  I beamed up at her.

  “Hiiii.” I could hear the breathiness in my voice but I was helpless to make it go away. Next to me, Lori chortled.

  “Hiiii,” Lori whispered so only I could hear.

  I bumped her shoulder again. “Shut up.”

  “No, Paul’s not a badass.” Lori giggled. “We were just talking about how last night—”

  “Shut up.” I bumped her shoulder harder this time, but Christa didn’t seem fazed.

  “So, uh.” Christa twirled a lock of hair around her finger. I still couldn’t get over how cute she was. “What’s with all the thread and whatnot?”

  Lori told her about the jewelry project while I kept smiling dorkily.

  “We’re sorting this stuff now,” Lori said when she was done explaining. “You can help if you want.”

  “Sure, totally.” Christa dropped down next to us on the blanket. Her jeans were caked with dirt. She must’ve been working on the fence. I was trying to stay away from both dirt and paint since I’d had to borrow clothes from Lori again. But that meant I couldn’t do any actual work, so I’d been alternating between setting up for the jewelry class and walking around acting as if I had somewhere to be.

  Christa pulled some thread out of the pile and tried to straighten it out. I watched her hands move, her fingers running delicately over the strands. Her palm had a blue and purple design on it today. A sun and moon drawn in marker. It was cool that she did that sort of thing. She had a true artist’s spirit. Not like me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d created something new.

  I reached out and stroked her finger with mine. Then I got nervous—what if she thought that was weird?—and pulled away. I dipped my hand back into the pile to get more lanyard thread instead.

  Christa reached into the pile, too. Her fingers slipped under the tangles of thread until her hand was touching mine.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too obviously. It didn’t work.

  “You guys.” Lori laughed. “You are way too cute together.”

  “Lori! Shhh!” I tried to put my hand over her mouth, but she pulled away, laughing.

  I gave Christa a sheepish grin. She snickered.

  “I’m not a fan of the word cute,” Christa said. “Little kids are cute. I prefer to associate myself with more mature words. Let’s say charming.”

  “Sweet,” I suggested.

  “Adorable.”

  “Delightful.”

  “Quixotic.”

  “Quixotic?” I tilted my head down at her. “I don’t think that means the same thing as cute.”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure exactly what it means, but it’s a cool word anyway. You and me, we’re the quixotic-est.”

  My chest got warm when she said that. Before I could think of a witty rejoinder, I saw a new figure coming toward us. Jake, with a paper and pen in his hand.

  “Hey, you guys.” He squatted down on the ground across from us. He looked nervous. “I came to see if you wanted to sign my petition.”

  “A petition? What’s it about?” I craned my neck, but he was holding the paper too far back for us to see. I’d signed online petitions before, but I didn’t remember ever seeing an actual physical petition.

  “It’s for one of the planks they’re voting on at the national conference,” Jake said. “I’m trying to get a core mass of youth to sign on before I present it to the delegates.”

  “‘A core mass of youth’?” I eyed Jake warily. I couldn’t imagine getting worked up over anything that included the words plank or delegates or national conference. Social Studies class was my daydreaming time.

  “Which plank is it?” Lori asked. Jake handed her the paper, and Christa and I leaned in to look.

  Lori read it out loud. “Resolved: To recognize and perform marriages between same-gender couples.” She looked up at Jake. “This is about gay marriage?”

  “Yeah.” Jake’s head bobbed eagerly, but his hand trembled where he held the pen. “Holy Life is finally putting together an official, national policy on whether to perform wedding ceremonies for LGBTQIA people.”

  Lori counted the letters off on her fingers. “Lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer—wait, is it queer or is it something else?”

  “It’s queer or questioning.” Jake turned pink. “And intersex and asexual.”

  “I’ll definitely sign that.” Lori grabbed the pen and scribbled her name. “It’s dumb that they’re even having to vote on this.”

  Jake looked like he wanted to kiss Lori. “Thank you. Wow, thank you so much.”

  “Who else has signed it so far?” I asked.

  “Well.” Jake pointed down at the paper. There was only one name at the top of the list. “Just me, actually.”

  “Are we the first people you’ve asked to sign?” Lori frowned.

  “Uh.” Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I asked some people from my church, but they weren’t up for it.”

  “What, like that guy Brian from last night?” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a tool.”

  “I would never have asked Brian.” Jake shook his head. “I asked Hannah, and Olivia, and Emma. None of them wanted to put their name down.”

  “What? None of them? That’s so dumb.” Lori waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t let them get to you. We’ll all sign it.”

  “Uh.” Christa drew back, hooking her thumbs into her glittered belt. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t. If my parents found out, I’d be in huge trouble.”

  Lori stared at Christa, openmouthed. I did, too, at first. Then it occurred to me that maybe I should be careful myself. I didn’t want to deal with my parents on this, either.

  “Whatever,” Lori said. “Everyone from our church will totally sign. Right, Aki?”

  “Uh. I don’t know.”

  I studied the petition in Lori’s hand. I didn’t exactly keep up with church politics, but even before I figured out I liked girls, I knew it was stupid for there to be rules about who could get married and who couldn’t.

  “I don’t know if everyone will sign it,” I said, reaching for the pen. “But I will.”

  Jake grinned. “You rock, Aki.”

  “Why does she rock?” Lori asked as I signed my name. “What about me?”

  “You both rock, but it especially rocks for her to sign it ’cause her dad’s a minister. And a conference delegate.”

  “So?” I handed the petition back to Jake. I was getting nervous now. Who did he plan on showing this to?

  “It’s cool, that’s all.” Jake tucked the petition back into his bag. “You sure you can’t sign, Christa?”

  “I’m sure.” Christa climbed to her feet. Some of the glitter from her belt had fallen onto our blanket. It shimmered. “I’m going to see if they need help outside. See you guys later.”

  She left, and Jake followed her, waving thanks to Lori and me. As soon as they were out
of earshot, Lori turned to me, her voice lowered to a whisper that was approaching a hiss.

  “Why won’t she sign the dang petition?” Lori looked incredulous. “You have to support gay marriage if you’re a gay person, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It’s complicated. She doesn’t want her parents to know.”

  “So what? Your parents don’t know you’re gay, but you signed it.”

  “I’m not gay,” I whispered back. “I think maybe I’m bi, that’s all.”

  “‘Maybe’?” Lori whispered. “What, now that you’ve finally actually done something with a girl, it’s ‘maybe’?”

  “No. I don’t know.” I sighed. “That’s complicated, too.”

  “I don’t see what’s complicated. She’s gay. She should sign a stupid gay rights petition.”

  “She’s not gay. She’s bi.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “All I’m saying is, there’s a difference.” I dump the last lanyard threads into their piles. I was getting annoyed.

  “I mean, okay.” Lori looked halfway contrite. “I know. But I don’t see what the big deal is about signing this petition thing.”

  “Well, yeah, because you’re straight. You can’t get what it’s like for Christa and me.”

  Lori got quiet after that.

  Soon the kids started showing up for our jewelry class, and Lori and I had to stop talking. But our class that day wound up being scary. We were halfway through teaching friendship knots when Guadalupe, one of the little girls, started hacking out of nowhere. I could tell it was an asthma attack because I’d seen the same thing happen to a boy at the clinic last year. That kid had sucked on an inhaler until he was fine, but when I looked around frantically for Guadalupe’s inhaler, it turned out she didn’t have one. I took her over to a cool spot under a tree and tried to soothe her until her breathing started to calm down a little. After that I tried to go find her parents but she wanted me to stay and help her finish her friendship bracelet instead. Kids were so weird.