Music from Another World

by Robin Talley

I stretched my arms over my head as Lisa and Becky came out from the back room, each of them struggling to balance stacks of paperbacks. “You coming, Sharon?” Lisa called.

  “Sure.” I climbed to my feet and took half the books off the stack she was holding. “How long’s the walk to the park from here?”

  “Who said anything about walking?” Lisa set the rest of the books onto the table, reached into the pocket of her jeans, and pulled out a set of keys as I put my stack down beside hers.

  “You’re riding with me, right, Evie?” Becky asked.

  “Yeah.” Evelyn pulled on a sweatshirt. “Lisa, can you take Sharon?”

  “’Course.”

  My mouth dropped open. Were they talking about...? “No way.”

  Lisa grinned. “What, you’ve never been on a bike?”

  I shook my head. I was mildly terrified, but I definitely didn’t want her to know that. “Do I have to...do anything?”

  She laughed. “Just hang on tight.”

  Everything happened fast. I grabbed my sweater and my school bag and by the time we got outside, Becky and Evelyn were already long gone down the block, the motorcycle engine revving in their wake.

  Lisa’s was humming when I climbed on behind her. The seat wasn’t very long, and I tried to lean back to put space between us, which was especially awkward in a kilt, but Lisa rolled her eyes at me over her shoulder. “Scoot up, kid. Evie’ll kill me if I let you fall off.”

  I moved forward, and Lisa reached back and wound my arms around her waist. I don’t know her that well yet, and being pressed up against her felt strange. But the next thing I knew, we were moving, and I understood. The bike went fast, and nothing was holding me in place except my arms around Lisa’s rib cage. I had to hold on for dear life.

  For the first block, I clutched her desperately, all of my energy focused on staying in the seat. I learned quickly that it was easier if I leaned with her on the turns, though, and as we neared the park, I managed to relax enough to watch the streets pass.

  The view from the back of a bike turned out to be awesome. It was the complete opposite of walking or driving. The city moved past us in a bright, unfiltered, exhilarating blur.

  When we reached the park and Lisa pulled in behind the other motorcycles, to my surprise, I was disappointed. I slid off the seat, but I was itching to climb right back on.

  Lisa laughed as she climbed down after me. “It’s fun, right?”

  “It’s incredible!”

  “Get Becky to give you a ride next time. She’s got the coolest bike of anyone. A present from her grandma.”

  She was right. Becky’s motorcycle two spaces over was red, and a lot bigger and shinier than Lisa’s. “Nice.”

  “We can teach you if you want. It’ll come in handy when your boyfriend and your brother are busy. Or if you ever get tired of having men drive you around.”

  I sighed, wishing for the first time that I hadn’t told everyone at the bookstore so much. Plus, Peter had given me a ride home the day before, and they’d all seen him pick me up. But it’s not as if I can’t get around the city on my own. I’ve been taking the bus by myself since first grade. “Maybe.”

  “Come on, everyone’s over by the trees.”

  I followed Lisa’s gaze. “Everyone” turned out to be a lot more people than I expected. Evelyn and Becky were there, of course, and so were Alex and a few of the other bookstore regulars, but there were men here, too. I spotted Leonard talking to a couple of other guys, and not far behind him was—of all people—my brother.

  Peter hadn’t seen me yet. He had his back to me, and he was smoking and talking to a guy I didn’t know. He was still wearing the pressed polo shirt he wears when he’s doing deliveries for Javi. With the joint dangling from his fingers, it would’ve been a funny image if it was anyone but my brother.

  Evelyn and some of the others met us halfway to the trees. Alex was holding a softball glove, and a couple of the other women were tossing a ball back and forth under the big palm tree.

  “Hey, you.” Alex slung her free arm around Lisa’s waist, and...wait. Now I was confused. Were Lisa and Alex friends? Or were they more? Do lesbians put their arms around each other platonically sometimes? “We were thinking about starting a game if we can get enough people. Either of you in?”

  “Not me.” Lisa wrinkled up her nose. “It’s too nice out and I’m too lazy.”

  Alex sighed. “Everyone keeps saying that.”

  “I’ll play,” I offered. “I was on my church team up until last year.”

  Alex’s eyes widened. “What position?”

  “First base.”

  “That’s perfect! We need infielders.”

  It was clear she did. Other than the two women tossing the ball under the trees, I didn’t see anyone else who seemed to be the slightest bit interested in playing softball. We’d have to start soon, too, or the only light left would be from the lampposts that lined the park. “You might need someone on everything.”

  “Yeah, and not just for today.” Alex laughed. “I’m in charge of recruiting women to play for the team Strangers is starting in the spring. You interested?”

  “Really?” Wow. After my church shut our team down, I’d thought my softball days were over.

  “Yeah.” Alex beamed, her arm tight around Lisa. “It’s in the early stages, but we’re trying to get a schedule together, so a bunch of the bars are getting involved. There are already three men’s teams, so we’re trying to get at least that many women’s.”

  “Wait, did you say bars?”

  “Oh, that’s right, you’re underage.” Alex frowned. “Well, I think it’ll be all right. The managers are all cool.”

  I should’ve known—“Strangers” must be the name of a lesbian bar. I shook my head. “Thanks, but I don’t think I can.”

  Alex groaned. “Why is everyone I ask such a downer?”

  “I mean, I’ll definitely play today,” I added quickly. “I won’t have time to be on a team, though. I’m going to be really busy with school this spring. Plus...well, I probably shouldn’t join a lesbian team, since I’m not a lesbian.”

  Evelyn and Lisa both turned away as though they suddenly had very important patches of grass to study, but Alex nodded slowly. “The teams are open to anyone, but that’s all right. Well, I’m going to try to find a few more players for today. Don’t wander too far, we’re starting soon.”

  “Hey, Sharon, isn’t that your brother?” Evelyn pointed in the direction of the grass she’d been studying, which happened to be directly in front of the tree where Peter was hanging out.

  “Oh. Uh, yeah.”

  Evelyn was looking at me curiously, and now the others were, too. I’d been hoping Peter would leave before he noticed me there—him giving me a ride home from the store was one thing, but hanging out with his new friends and my new friends in the same place at the same time was a little too awkward.

  I couldn’t say any of that, of course, so I took a deep breath and moved slowly in Peter’s direction.

  “Hey, Shar.” He glanced up at me through half-lidded eyes. I wondered exactly how much he’d smoked already. “Want a hit?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Don’t worry, he isn’t driving,” the guy next to him offered. “I was going to give him a ride home before too long. It’s nice to meet you, by the way. Pete talks about you all the time. I’m Dean.”

  “Hi. I’m Sharon.” I eyed Dean carefully. He was very tall, and cute, with blond hair and blue eyes that reminded me of the old Ken doll I’ve got somewhere in the attic.

  “Are you having a good semester?” he asked politely. He didn’t seem to be stoned himself. I guess he was just keeping my brother company. And calling him “Pete” for some reason.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “How about you? Are you in school?”
<
br />   “Yep. First year of college.”

  “SF State?”

  He shook his head, then shrugged, as if he was embarrassed. “Stanford?”

  “Ohhh.” I nodded. Dean was probably rich, then. The only kids I’ve ever known who went to Stanford were in the handful of rich families who go to our church. “I see.”

  “Sharon!” Alex shouted behind me. “We’re starting in two minutes!”

  Peter glanced back, looking amused. “Are you playing softball with the lesbians, Shar?”

  “Hey, do you need any more players?” Dean called back to Alex. “I pitched Little League!”

  Dean was totally the Little League type. I glanced at Peter and rolled my eyes—we always used to make fun of the Little League players in our neighborhood—but he didn’t roll his back at me. Too stoned, probably.

  “What’d you say?” Alex called back. Dean jogged over to her.

  When he was gone, Peter turned back to me, his eyes looking suddenly clearer than they had a moment before. “Those are the girls who hang out at that bookstore, right? Are you friends with them now?”

  “Um... I’ve been volunteering there. For the No on 6 campaign.”

  “Since when? I’ve been trying to get you to come work on Harvey’s campaigns for months.”

  “Yeah... I don’t know. I decided to finally do it.”

  “What, out of nowhere?”

  “Um. It was actually because of my pen pal, Tammy. You remember her, right?”

  “The artist from fundamentalist land? Sure. What’s she got to do with it?”

  “Well, it turns out there are some things I didn’t know about her.” I turned so I could watch his face when I broke the news. “Like...she’s gay.”

  Peter’s mouth dropped open, exactly as I knew it would. “You’re shitting me.”

  I grinned. “I swear I’m not.”

  “She lives in Orange County. The most conservative place on earth.”

  “Yeah, and she has to work on the pro-Prop 6 campaign with her church. No one knows about her except one other girl, and me.” I took a breath, realizing that last part wasn’t true anymore.

  Hmm.

  Peter got it, too. “And now me.”

  “Um, I guess.” I shrugged. “She’d be okay with that. She knows about you.”

  “She knows about me...how?” He raised his eyebrows.

  A heavy weight landed in my stomach. “I, uh...”

  Oh, shit.

  I knew right away what I’d done, but I have to admit, I didn’t totally understand what it meant. Not at first.

  In that moment, standing there with Peter, all I could think was maybe this didn’t have to be a big deal. Maybe he’d let this go.

  He’s my brother. All my life, he’s meant more to me than anyone else in the world. I couldn’t lose him.

  “You told her?” His mouth gaped open. “You told some girl in Orange County about me?”

  “Tammy’s not just some girl. She’s one of my best friends. Anyway, she’s hundreds of miles from here.”

  Peter took a huge step back from me. “Shar. You should’ve asked me.”

  I swallowed again. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “And now you’ve told me about her, and I’m guessing you didn’t ask her if that was okay, either.”

  I bit my lip. He was right.

  I hadn’t even realized how badly I’d screwed up until he said that, either.

  I’m so sorry, Tammy. I don’t blame you if you hate me. Peter already seems to.

  “This is just great.” He scrunched a fist in his curly hair. “How do you know she’s even telling you the truth? This whole thing could be a trick.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. We were randomly assigned to be pen pals, so it’s not as if she could’ve—”

  “She knows where we live. Obviously. She’s been writing to you for months.” Peter plunged his other hand into his hair. I hadn’t seen him this upset since the Miami vote. “She could write a letter to Mom. Or look us up in the phone book and call her.”

  “She’d never do that!”

  “Okay, but even if that’s true, what about her parents?”

  “She’d never. She lives in terror of them finding out about her.”

  “Or so she says.” His face was red. “What if she only tells one person, the way you did, and it gets back to us somehow? I trusted you, Sis!”

  “I’m sorry.” I was on the verge of crying. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “A lot of good that does me.” He swung his leg, kicking out at a pebble in the grass. It skittered away. He jammed his foot again into the empty patch of dirt.

  “I was trying to make her feel better.” I shut my eyes tight. “I thought if I told her about you—”

  “What, you’d score pro-gay points? This is my life. It’s up to me to decide who knows!”

  “I’m sorry.” My tears finally broke through. “I’m sorry.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” When we were little, if I cried, my brother would stop whatever he was doing to tell me it would be okay. Now, he only shook his head. “I’m going to find Dean. You do...whatever the Hell you want. Just leave me alone.”

  He turned his back on me.

  I waited, thinking maybe he’d turn around and give me one last look, one little hint that he didn’t completely hate me. Instead he moved faster and faster away into the darkness, until I couldn’t see him at all.

  Soon, Alex called me over to join the softball game. I tried to play, to act as if everything was normal, but it was dark out, and in the dim light of the street lamps I couldn’t think about anything except how badly I’d screwed up.

  I shouldn’t have told you about my brother. And I never should’ve told him about you.

  I’m home now, lying on my bed, staring up at your collage. All of a sudden, everything’s going wrong. I betrayed my brother and you. I’m barely talking to my friends at school.

  Things are awkward between me and Kevin, too. There’s a strain between us, and I can’t pinpoint why. The space between us is filling up with all the things I don’t know how to tell him.

  I wish we didn’t have to write letters. I want to hear how your voice sounds. I want to stay up all night talking to you. I want to ask you a question and hear what you think right away, instead of having to wait days to get your answers back. I wish we could listen to Patti Smith together, instead of me having to put on the record and pretend you’re listening with me.

  I’m just so sorry, Tammy. If you hate me, I guess I understand.

  Yours truly, Sharon

  Monday, December 5, 1977

  Dear Sharon,

  Okay, well...the truth is, I kind of assumed you’d already told your brother.

  He’s right, though, now that I’m thinking about it. You probably should’ve asked first.

  I can see why he wouldn’t trust me. I trust him, the same way I trust you, but that’s different. We’ve been writing to each other for so long and told each other so much that it feels as if we’ve met a hundred times already. But for your brother, it isn’t that way at all.

  I’m sorry you fought because of me, though. I hate that I’m messing things up for you.

  And I’m sorry things are tough with you and Kevin. It’s getting tough with Carolyn and me, too.

  We’re “together” now, I think—if you kiss every day you’re a real couple, right? Because that’s what we’ve started doing. There’s a stairwell no one ever uses by the north corridor, and we go there every day after our second-period Bible class. We only have three minutes between periods, so we have to be fast, but it’s exhilarating. There’s never time to ask questions. Or to talk at all.

  What usually happens is, she’ll leave class first and glance back at me. I’ll catch her eye.
Then she’ll turn around and walk down the hall, fast, until she disappears around the corner. I’ll look around to make sure no one’s paying attention—which they never are, because everyone spends the class-change time making fun of the way Mrs. Harrington draws out the name “Baal” so it sounds like she’s talking about a guy’s balls—and then I’ll follow her.

  When we get into the stairwell, we listen to make sure we don’t hear footsteps, and then we start kissing. We don’t stop to smile nervously, or hold hands, or do any of the other things I used to do when I’d kiss boys. We just kiss, and kiss, and we don’t stop until the warning bell goes off. Then we spring apart and scramble to wipe our faces and fix our hair.

  I always leave first, so I can make sure the hall is clear. Carolyn doesn’t come out until after I’ve turned the corner. I know because when I look back, I never see her.

  I don’t even want to know what would happen if we got caught. It bothers me, though, that we never have time to talk. Especially when something’s happened.

  Like with yesterday. As we were leaving Sunday school, she was walking up ahead of me with Brett, and he asked her on a date. Just suddenly, out of nowhere. Carolyn said yes without even hesitating, and she gave him one of those nervous smiles she never gives me.

  I heard the whole thing. She must’ve known that. But when I tried to ask her about it today in the stairwell, she started kissing me before I could finish my sentence. I kissed her back, but after a minute I pulled away, and when I asked again, she rolled her eyes and said, “Duh. Come on, you know I don’t want people thinking there’s something wrong with me.” Then she kissed me again before I could say any more.

  I’ve been thinking about what she said all day. Especially the “wrong with me” part. She said it as though it was obvious. As if what’s happening between us is straight-up wrong.

  That’s how my aunt and everyone else here sees it. I used to think of it that way, too. Maybe I still do, sometimes.

  Not everyone thinks that, though. Those women you met at the bookstore, and your brother and his friends—they don’t think the way people here do.

  I know it’s only that Carolyn doesn’t want us to get caught. I don’t want that, either, of course. It’s the same for your brother, and I bet it’s the same way for his friend Dean at Stanford, too. Especially if his parents are paying his tuition.