Grl2grl: Short Fictions

by Julie Anne Peters

  Mom didn’t believe I was gay. Not until Alex.

  Mom liked Alex right away. Alex is easy to like. I mean, she was. She gave off this joie de vivre. She laughed, joked, mimicked people. She had Teva down, how Teva sort of waddled when she walked. It was funny. Kind of mean. Alex practically lived at our condo.

  It was easier for Alex. Maybe because she got there sooner, came out to herself, she was more comfortable with it. The whole idea of being gay, being different. Her fuck-you-if-you’ve-got-a-problem-with-it attitude. People respected her. I did. She had thick skin and red blood. When Alex began to skip the restroom and kiss me in the hall — do other stuff — I showed my skin. I pushed her away.

  She said, “What’s the matter, Rach? Don’t you love me?”

  Of course I loved her. I just… I didn’t want people… ogling. Or sniggering behind our backs. I told her that.

  “Who gives a fuck?” Alex had said.

  I did. I don’t know, it made me feel weird. It hurt my feelings to be called names.

  “They’ll destroy you,” Alex told me. “If you let them control you, they’ll fuck with your head. You give them power over you, Rachael.”

  Yeah, I did. I hated myself for it.

  “You can’t live your life trying to please other people.”

  I don’t. I do.

  It was Thanksgiving weekend and we were riding home on the train from Winter Park. A ski trip. I’d finally gotten up the nerve to join the Gay/Straight Alliance at school, after Jordan’s pressuring. Not pressuring. Encouraging. People were quiet on the train, dozing. It’d been an awesome day of skiing. A long day, though. I’d been up since five a.m. to rent equipment and have Mom drive me downtown to the ski train. She and Dad had had a fight on the phone the night before about child support or something and she was ragging on me about how expensive this trip was and how we both needed to make sacrifices. Major guilt trip. A whole day on the slopes, carting my skis and poles around, forgetting sunblock and searing my nose and forehead. I knew I’d blister and peel. A two-hour train ride back to Denver.

  I wasn’t sleepy, the way I normally was after skiing. I was wide awake, alert. Whenever Alex was near, I felt that way. Tingly. Wired. She’d come with her girlfriend, Courtney.

  Courtney.

  Jordan was conked out next to me and I was resting my temple on the window to watch the trees streak by in the dark, to think. About Alex, four rows ahead. How she’d smiled at me as I’d boarded the train and held my eyes as I’d weaved down the aisle past her. How she’d clung to me. Not physically. Psychically.

  Courtney wasn’t with Alex. She’d stormed down the aisle and plopped into a rear bench seat. They’d had a fight or something.

  The cold window penetrated my skull and made me shiver all over. I scooted out around Jordan to grab a blanket from the overhead bin. She flopped over onto my seat. You can’t wake Jordan up if you beat her with a ski boot.

  I scanned over the high seat backs for an empty row. The train was pretty full, but there was a double seat up front. In my moon boots, I clunked up the aisle and scooted over to sit next to the window. As I was unfolding the blanket across my lap, I heard beside me, “God, it’s freezing in here. Mind if I share?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, just sank down next to me and pulled a corner of the blanket over her lap, tucking it under her thigh. Our shoulders touched. She snuggled up close. My breath caught and my blood pulsed. Could she feel me trembling? Her knee nudged mine and I almost cried out. Maybe I did a little. She twisted her head and smiled.

  She billowed the blanket over our heads and leaned into me. “I thought we’d never be alone,” she whispered.

  “I know,” I whispered back. I couldn’t believe I said that. How fast it all happened.

  We giggled. We fooled around. Then…

  She kissed me. That kiss. It was light, at first. Questioning. My answer: Yes. Oh yes. Like an avalanche rolling and roaring to life, picking up speed, volume, intensity, power, the momentum carried me away.

  Alex was cool. Amazing. And unavailable.

  Courtney.

  I didn’t want to think about Courtney.

  We were meant to be, Alex and me. We were tight.

  But that was then. This was now. After Alex.

  My life was defined by three eras:

  Before Alex.

  During Alex.

  After Alex.

  Sad, happy, miserable.

  “You want to share?” Jordan said.

  “What?”

  She wasn’t talking to me. She and Teva slid their smoothies together and pinched their straws at the top so they could sip and kiss at the same time.

  I turned to stare out the window. There was life after Alex. There was.

  The first time is intense, that’s all. You never forget your first.

  The first time we made love was on a Friday afternoon. I had a test in biology, but Alex said I could make it up. The way she looked at me, touched my face.

  We did it on the living room sofa wrapped in Mom’s afghan. Mom took up crocheting after Dad left. Crocheting and crabbing at me. She was at work that day. Afterward, Alex was propped on her elbow, combing her fingers through my tangled hair. “Rach,” she said softly, lovingly, “you’re so good to me.”

  “You’re good to me,” I said. “You’re good for me.”

  She smiled. “Yeah. I am.”

  I lived to please her.

  I don’t anymore.

  “Rachael?” Fingernails dug into my arm. “You okay?” Jordan asked.

  I blinked at her. Where was I? Jamba Juice. Alex’s e-mail.

  I need you. I want you back.

  The stirring in my stomach.

  “It’d be like one of those abusive relationships where the wife or girlfriend always goes back to the asshole who’s smacking her around because he says he’s sorree,” Teva mocked. Her head bobbed on her shoulders, braids clacking. Her fiery eyes flared.

  What was she talking about?

  “Or some guy who cheats on his wife,” Jordan added. “She just forgives and forgets.”

  No, I thought. It’s not the same.

  Alex wasn’t abusive. She was good to me. Good for me. She was gentle and loving. It wasn’t cheating. It was… forgiveness. She afforded people every opportunity they deserved. Courtney deserved it.

  Courtney’s face flashed through my mind. That Monday after the ski trip when I found her in the locker room, crying. I had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t my fault. Alex and Courtney were already over; that’s what Alex said. They were always fighting. Alex never talked about what happened between them, only that they needed a break. They’d been together for more than a year. Off and on.

  Courtney was needy, Alex said. Alex felt smothered by her.

  “What makes women do that?” Teva asked, bending to sip from her straw. “Do they like pain? Do they enjoy it?” Her smoothie gurgled.

  “They don’t think they can get anyone else,” Jordan said, lighting a cigarette. “They have no sense of self-worth.” She drew in a long drag and blew out the smoke. “They’re victims. But they do it to themselves.”

  I watched the stream of smoke dissipate in the air.

  Teva swallowed and shook her head. “You have to really hate yourself to let someone hurt you that way. And keep hurting you.”

  They both fixed on me. Not too subtle. Yeah, Alex had hurt me; she’d hurt me bad. But it wasn’t the same. She’d never hit me. We never fought. She was always kind and giving. “I love you, Rachael,” she’d said. “I love you with all my heart.”

  “Rachael?”

  I shook my head at Jordan. You’re wrong.

  The counter clerk stormed over. “No smoking in here.”

  Jordan blinked up at her. She scanned the length of her. Sucking in another drag, Jordan blew smoke in the girl’s face. Then dropped the cigarette into her glass.

  It hissed.

  I sipped from my smoothie, remembering Courtne
y. She smoked. I’d see her out smoking at the wall, alone. Or crying. I released my mind of conscious thought and allowed in only sensory stimuli. Sensuous feeling. Alex kissing me. On my lips, my neck, my breasts.

  Heat swelled my skin.

  Jordan kicked my foot. “Rachael, she can’t be trusted.” Her eyes penetrated my soul.

  “I know.” Trust is crucial.

  Alex’s words clawed their way to the surface. “It just happened, Rach. I didn’t mean for it to happen. We ran into each other at the mall and started talking and I realized how much I missed her. How I still loved her.”

  The searing pain. My heart ripping, being torn from my chest.

  “I don’t not love you,” she’d added.

  I’m not sure where I found the strength to speak. “But you love her more,” I’d said. Stated for the record.

  She didn’t confirm or deny. I wanted to scream, What about how needy Courtney is? How she smothers you?

  You love me with all your heart, remember? I love you with all my soul.

  I’d whimpered to myself, I don’t smother you. I only do what you want. I even let you grope me in public.

  I should’ve said it. I know that now. Not the groping part. The Courtney part.

  It was Courtney I wanted to smother. Hold a pillow over her face until she was dead. God, I’m so horrible.

  “Alex,” I’d pleaded. “Please.” Please, I’d begged for my life. Pleeeeease.

  She’d taken my hand. “Rach, if you love me, let me go. Let me do what I need to do. Don’t make it hard.”

  Hard? Try excruciating.

  To my credit, I didn’t bawl in front of her. No drama. I loved her that much. I didn’t make it hard.

  No. She couldn’t expect me to take her back. After she dumped me — “Rach, do this for me. Don’t make it hard” — I cut. Alone, in the bathroom. It hardly bled. No surprise. I couldn’t even cut right.

  It took practice.

  “Oh my God.” Jordan glanced at her watch. “We have to go.” She scraped back her chair and stood. “The mall’s closing in fifteen minutes and I have to buy my dad a birthday present.”

  Teva stood with Jordan. She took the hand Jordan offered her. “You want to come with us?” Teva asked.

  I shook my head no. No, no, no. I hated the mall now. I hated being the third wheel.

  Jordan touched my shoulder.

  “I’m okay,” I said, peering up at her. Smiling. “I’ll call you later.”

  Jordan tugged the lip of my baseball cap over my face. She and Teva left. Jordan paused outside on the sidewalk and pressed her hand to the glass. I waved. I was happy for her; glad she and Teva had finally hooked up. They were perfect. There was trust and respect between them.

  I walked home in the dark. Remembering the mountains, the blur of trees, the kiss. At the condo complex, I clunked up the stairs to the second floor. The words Teva’d left me with echoed in my head. “Forget her, Rachael. Alex doesn’t deserve you. She never was good enough for you.”

  How many times had I heard that? From Teva, Jordan. “She’s not good enough for you, Rachael. You’re such a good person. You deserve better.”

  What we deserve and what we get are two different things.

  It was cold in the condo. I punched up the thermostat. Mom was working the night shift again. That’s what Alex loved about coming over, the time we got alone. “This is what it’ll be like when we’re together forever,” she’d said. “In our own place.”

  There was never any doubt. “I love you with all my heart.”

  I lay on the sofa and pulled Mom’s afghan over me, remembering. Alex’s touch, her smell. She always smelled like baby powder. I remember the feel of her body fitted up against mine, her playing with my belly ring, tickling me. Giggling. Goofing around. Getting serious.

  The ache. The physical ache of her being gone, being with Courtney. Doing with her what we did together.

  I crunched into a ball.

  How Courtney had come around the corner and almost run into me sitting on the bench in the locker room on Thursday. I was just sitting, staring into space. How shocked she was to see me. How happy she was to be back with Alex.

  I saw my happiness in her eyes. The only time I’d been truly happy in my life. Courtney stole that from me. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that she’d forgiven Courtney and taken her back. I bet Courtney begged. I bet she cried; she made it hard for Alex.

  Alex would’ve remembered how manipulative Courtney was. How needy and suffocating. How love is more than giving, giving, giving. It’s forgiving too.

  How much can you forgive? How many times? There’s a point where you have to say no. No more. I have no more to give.

  I threw back the afghan and padded to my bedroom, to my computer. I pressed the On button. The monitor lit up and the drive whirred to life. I retrieved Alex’s e-mail.

  I’d deleted the last part of the message before printing it off to show Jordan and Teva. She’s so needy, Alex had written. You should’ve reminded me why I broke up with her in the first place. I swear, Rachael, Courtney sucks the life out of a person. You never did that to me. You feed me. You nourish me.

  Then why? Why, Alex? You had to know what it would do to me to lose you. I’d starve to death. I did. You left me emptied.

  Rachael, I fucked up. I know that. I’m sorry. I need you.

  No, Alex. Don’t make it hard.

  Please, Rach. I want you back.

  I can’t. My heart hammered in my chest.

  I stared at the screen, at the words. I felt myself ripping in half, as if my body was separating from my soul.

  I keyed in one word.

  “Okay.”

  Outside/Inside

  I won’t sign the card, I decided. I’ll let her wonder who it’s from.

  No. I wanted her to know. I wanted her to look at me every day and know.

  There were so many cards to choose from. Christmas, New Year, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Birthday. None of them fit. Friendship?

  Yes. Well, no. Not exactly.

  Thank you?

  No.

  Love? Yes, that was the kind of card I wanted.

  (Outside) I love you

  (Inside) Every day/In every way

  That was true. I loved her in every way. A little heavy on the sentiment, though. Smack her in the face.

  (Outside) My day begins

  (Inside) With you

  It did. First period. I couldn’t wait to get to school to see her first period. Sometimes I’d catch her in the hallway before class, talking to people and smiling. Always smiling. She was my happy, smiling sunshine.

  There’s a song like that. Were there cards with song lyrics? I could make one.

  (Outside) You are my sunshine

  (Inside) My only sunshine

  Dorky. What’s the rest? You make me happy, when skies are gray. She did. It could be raining or snowing outside and the sight of her would light up the halls.

  She dressed cool. Not sexy or provocative. Except this one time she’d worn a scoop-neck sweater and she was sitting on the steps outside the cafeteria after lunch, and I remember she leaned back to tilt her face to the sun. I’d just come out the door with my friends to head for the quad so they could check out guys. I was standing a couple of steps above her and she inhaled a deep breath and her breasts heaved. I could see down her front, to the trim of her bra. I must’ve gasped or something because her head lolled all the way back and she said, “Hi.” To all of us, yeah. But in particular to me. I was so startled by the view I almost took a header down the steps.

  That would’ve been a trip.

  (Outside) You had me at

  (Inside) Hi

  I wondered if she’d get it; recall that day. And every other day she said hi to me.

  (Outside) Imagine

  (Inside) Us together

  I did. All the time. I fantasized about us together. Standing under a trellis, ivy dripping down the sides. Her, in her white wedding gown w
ith scooped neck and lace-trimmed bra, and me, in my tuxedo. Black silk, black shirt, black tie. She’d be holding a bouquet of red roses. Black and white and red. Those would be our colors. We’d vow eternal love and consummate it with a kiss. Our first kiss.

  (Outside) Your lips on mine

  (Inside) I shiver

  Oh wow. I liked that one. It was simple, yet strong. Boldly suggestive.

  As the guy at the counter rang up my sale, he said, “I got that same one for my girlfriend.”

  “Yeah?” I’m getting it for mine, I didn’t say. My 2B GF.

  I had a red glitter pen and a green Flair, but decided to go with black gel. Sophistication. I wanted her to think of me that way. Red, white, and black.

  Your lips

  On mine

  I shiver

  Hoo. This card made me hot. Print or write my message? Write, I decided. On a sheet of notebook paper, I practiced the lettering: L L L L L L.

  Three lines of L’s.

  Commit, I thought.

  Love, I wrote. I wrote it again.

  Love.

  Love, Logan.

  I closed the card and kissed the red foil heart on front. I’d leave her my lip print. My hands were clammy as I slid the card into the envelope, sealed it, and wrote her name on the front. My finest writing. It’d be hard, but I’d force myself to wait until Friday to give it to her. Last day before winter break. Give her something to think about during those two weeks. Someone to think about.

  Maybe I should’ve put my phone number under my name.

  Right, Logan. Don’t be too obvious.

  She could look me up. Or ask me for it when we got back from break. It’d sustain me to know she was thinking about me.