Читать книгу Our Own Private Universe - Robin Talley - Страница 13

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.

For the rest of the day, Christa was super quiet. I could tell she was upset. I tried to talk to her at dinner, but she barely answered me. Eventually I gave up and sat alone at the long table, eating toast and acting as if I wasn’t totally depressed.

Vespers was even worse.

Like the night before, we met in the minister’s living room, piled on the floor in rows while the adults sat on the couches above us. First we watched the news on TV for a while, even though we couldn’t understand it since it was in Spanish. The chaperones had this thing about us “not losing sight of what’s happening in the wider world,” but I thought it was mainly because they didn’t have service on their phones, either, and they were desperate for information. That night, the news showed a sad story about some really young American soldiers who’d been killed overseas and how their families back home were coping. We all got depressed even without totally understanding what the news anchors were saying.

I think the chaperones must’ve realized the news was kind of a downer, because Dad turned the TV off quickly and went straight to leading prayers and songs by candlelight. The local minister’s wife, Señora Perez, was trying to teach us songs in Spanish while Señor Suarez played his gorgeous old guitar. That part might’ve been kind of fun if I wasn’t sitting right across from Christa. She studiously looked around in every direction but mine.

“Let’s sing ‘If I Had a Hammer,’” Dad said from the couch. The other adults in the room laughed. The rest of us groaned. “If I Had a Hammer” was this old, boring song that people like my grandad loved.

We started off in those droning voices you have to use when you sing old-people songs. When we got to the end of the first verse, Drew hopped to his feet and went to stand next to Señor Suarez. When the second verse started—it’s about what you’d do if you had a bell instead of a hammer (I told you this song was dumb)—Drew held up one hand as if he was dangling a bell, then pretended to whack the invisible bell with a stick. We all giggled through our singing. As the song went on, Drew kept banging on the bell, and his gestures got more and more elaborate. He pranced around the room while everyone laughed even harder. I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out of my head when Drew got to the next verse, about what you’d do if you had a song, and he started waving his arms dramatically, opera singer–style. Everyone was laughing so hard they could barely sing.

Everyone except me. I watched Drew carefully, and after the first verse, I could tell his heart wasn’t in this little show.

There was something behind his smile. A glimpse of what I’d seen that day in the airport.

He wasn’t enjoying this. He was only playing the part.

He made everybody else believe it, though. Dad was watching Drew with an indulgent tilt to his head. If I’d acted like that much of a fool during vespers, Dad never would’ve let me hear the end of it.

Drew’s life had been perfect when he was my age. He’d done well in school, he’d had a ton of friends, he’d played ball, and he’d always been grinning about something. But all that had changed when he started college. I should’ve figured out that something was up, but I hadn’t even known there was a problem until he broke down and told me. I was too obsessed with everything that was wrong in my own life. I hadn’t even really thought about Drew’s.

It hurt, now, to think about what a bad sister I’d been. I turned away so I couldn’t see him.

Maybe by accident, or maybe not, my eyes landed on Christa.

This time, she was looking at me, too.

She looked away just as fast. But I knew I hadn’t imagined it.

Dad dismissed us when the song was over, and we all climbed to our feet and started down the dark path to the old church. Everyone was still laughing and talking about how hilarious my brother was. I walked with Lori and our friends, but I never stopped watching Christa. She was walking alone at the edge of the group.

Above us, the open field of stars stretched for millions of miles. Trillions.

In two minutes, we’d be inside the church, under the dark, thick ceiling with everybody else. We’d use our shaky flashlight beams to find our spots. On the girls’ side of the room, everyone had laid their sleeping bags perpendicular to each other so our feet wouldn’t wind up in each others’ faces. It hadn’t worked. Worse, now that we’d been here for a few days, I was smelling more than feet.

I didn’t want to be in that room. I wanted to stay out here. Under those stars.

With Christa.

We were almost at the church by the time I screwed up the courage. I tried to act casual, sidling up next to her with my hands tucked into the pockets of my borrowed jeans.

Christa glanced at me, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” I said.

She didn’t meet my eyes. “Hey.”

After another minute of walking in silence, I said, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Is this because of Jake’s petition? Are you annoyed that I signed it?”

“No.” She looked away. “I wish I could have.”

“Well.” I didn’t know what to say. I wished she’d signed it, too. “Do you seriously think your parents would find out?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But they could. It’s easier when I’m at home. They don’t have a reason to question whether I’m straight or not, you know? But with me down here...”

Right. She meant that back home, her dumb boyfriend Steven made her life easier.

I didn’t want to hear any more about how great Steven was. It felt as if she’d picked him over me before I’d even had a chance. Maybe she thought I wasn’t worth bothering with after all. The most we ever could’ve had was a summer fling, after all.

I was so frustrated I could’ve yelled. Instead I swallowed hard.

Maybe this was going to be it for me. One night. One kiss. That was the whole story of my big summer lesbian experiment.

“Well if your boyfriend’s so great, what am I even doing here?” I said.

“Shhh.” Christa wrapped her arms around her chest and swiveled her head from side to side. Checking to see if anyone was listening, probably. I tried to think back to see if I’d said anything incriminating.

Wait, though—incriminating? Not wanting your family to know was one thing, but Christa was acting as though there was something wrong with just talking to me. Even though the night we’d met, she’d been the one acting all flirty.

“This isn’t about him,” Christa whispered. “We’re taking a break, remember? I’m only saying that it’s really convenient when I don’t have to worry about my parents finding out I’m, you know, not completely straight.”

“Would it be so terrible if they did? I mean, they’re going to have to know eventually, right?”

I realized as I said it, though, that her parents didn’t have to find out, not ever. That was the thing about being bi. If Christa only ever told them about going out with guys, she really could keep it a secret forever.

I guess that was true for me, too. I’d been thinking of coming out to my parents as inevitable, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I could stay hidden, too, if I wanted to.

Did I want to?

“You don’t understand.” Christa turned to look me right in the eyes. “My parents aren’t cool the way your dad is. After I first got my period, my mom sat me down and gave me a speech about how I had to make absolutely sure I never had sex, because if I got pregnant, they wouldn’t support me. That’s literally what she said. ‘We won’t support you.’”

Wow. I couldn’t imagine my parents saying anything that awful. Not that they’d love me getting pregnant or anything, but they’d help me if it happened, I was sure of that much. “Have they said specific stuff about what would happen if you were gay?”

“No, but I can guess. They won’t let my brother and me watch any shows with gay characters, even stupid sitcoms. They say shows like that ‘promote an amoral agenda.’ Once when I posted a photo I took of a crowd on the Fourth of July that had two men holding hands in the background, they confiscated my phone and took down my whole Instagram account until I promised to delete the picture.”

“Wow. I’m sorry. That’s really awful.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m so obsessive about this stuff. If they found out I liked girls, they might—I don’t even want to guess. Ground me forever? Refuse to pay for college? Honestly, I don’t know, and I really want to make sure I don’t find out.”

Now I felt bad for being annoyed at her.

We were almost at the entrance of the church. Only a few people were still outside, and they were all way too engrossed in their own conversations to listen to us.

“Look.” My heart was pounding so hard it was embarrassing. “I—Look, you know... I like you, okay? And it’s okay if you don’t actually like me that much. I mean, I know you already have a boyfriend and everything—it’s only that last night I thought maybe you kind of did, you know, like me. So...”

Christa stopped walking. I stopped, too. She stared at me.

Then she looked around. Almost everyone had disappeared into the darkness of the church.

Christa grabbed my hand and ran, pulling me behind her.

I stumbled after her, trying to figure out what she was doing, trying to figure out how to ask. Then she pulled me behind the dark church wall and kissed me, hard.

It was totally different from our kisses the night before. Those had been slow and warm and sweet.

This one was fierce. Visceral.

It took me a second to start kissing her back, but once I did, I couldn’t stop. She was delicious. She was incredible. And for that moment, she was all mine.

She pushed me against the cement wall. It was hard and cold against my back. Somehow that felt incredible, too.

We were crushed together, her hand tight on the back of my neck, my hand on her hip holding her in place. I’d never kissed anyone like this before. As if I was kissing her with my whole body.

Somewhere in the back of my brain, I knew that anyone could walk out and see us at any moment. That idea only made me wrap my arm around her waist and hold her even closer.

She slid down so she was kissing my neck, moving back to my ear. The sudden shock of air on my lips was so intense that I had to do something. Say something. I murmured, low, unintelligible words. I wasn’t even sure what they were. Oh, my God, maybe.

That tiny murmur must’ve been what snapped her out of it. Christa pulled back a few inches, her eyes blinking into consciousness.

I gazed back at her. I don’t know how my face looked—I felt lost, dazed, unfocused—but hers was beautiful.

Her eyes tore away from mine, darting left, then right. There was no one around.

“We should go someplace else,” Christa whispered.

I nodded. “There are hills around here, too.”

So we walked out into the dark hills that rimmed the town. I reached for her hand, the muscles in my fingers twitching, afraid she’d pull away.

She didn’t. She jumped as I slipped my hand into hers, but then she intertwined her fingers with mine and squeezed.

And somehow, it was everything, that single squeeze.

That squeeze meant I hadn’t made this up in my head. This weird thing that I felt—I didn’t know what it was exactly, but now I knew she felt it, too.

We climbed the hill into the little valley. Our little valley. I slipped my arms around her neck and she kissed me, again, slower and lighter than before.

We didn’t need to hurry. We had all the time there was.

Maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t only an experiment. Maybe this was something else altogether.

Maybe it was even something real.