Music from Another World
Page 25
“It always is.” Midge laughed, then popped the cigarette back into her mouth and inhaled sharply. “Anytime you run out in the street because you see a girl talking to somebody else, there’s gonna be a story behind it.”
“That isn’t what happened at all.”
“Okay. Well, either way, she came after you. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Not at all.”
Midge laughed again. “Okay.”
I groaned. “I’m fine now. You can go smoke inside.”
She shrugged. “If you want. I wouldn’t recommend hanging out here by yourself looking like you’re about to pass out, though. Some of the guys here can be complete jackasses.”
My chest was getting heavy again. I stopped to catch a breath.
“Hey, take it easy.” Midge dropped her cigarette and ground it out with the heel of her boot, then stood directly across from me, meeting my eyes. “Deep breaths. You’re okay.”
I watched her, my eyes never wavering from her face. A moment later, I could breathe normally again. “Thanks.”
“No worries. I had a friend once who used to freak out the same way you do. Did you drink more than usual?”
I’d only had the one drink, but that was more than usual. I drank it kind of fast, too. “Yeah.”
“That’ll do it. So, are you and the blond having girlfriend troubles, or what?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. I...” I sighed again. Maybe it was time I said it out loud to someone who wasn’t my brother. “I don’t even know if I’m gay.”
Midge nodded, no trace of surprise on her face. “I had a friend like that, too. Turned out she was bi.”
I stared at her. Was she joking? “What?”
“Bisexual.” She didn’t laugh. “You’ve never heard of it?”
I was about to shake my head, but...I had heard of it. It just never occurred to me that it was something I could be.
“It’s for people who are into men and women.” Midge fished in the pocket of her button-down and pulled out another cigarette. “Want one?”
“No thanks.”
“Okay.” She popped the cigarette into her mouth and lit it while I waited to see if she’d say more. “Lots of people are bi. David Bowie even is.”
I blinked, stunned. “Wait, really?”
“Look, it’s none of my business who you’re into. Maybe you’re totally straight. I sure as shit have no clue. All I know is, I saw you with that chick just now, and...” Midge jammed her thumb over her shoulder toward the door. “You were both acting as if you were awfully into each other.”
A million different memories started boiling together in my head, all at the same time.
Going parking with Kevin. Watching Midge dance in that tiny skirt. Tammy, breathing softly in her sleep on my bedroom floor. Holding hands while Harvey Milk’s voice rang in our ears.
The way I always felt when I unfolded a new letter from her. As though there could never be anything better in the world than hearing what she had to say.
“I should get back inside.” Midge exhaled a long stream of smoke. I wondered if this was something she did every now and then. Stand outside clubs, smoking and introducing teenagers to mind-blowing concepts. “A decent band’s actually about to start a set. You coming?”
I shook my head.
It was time I stopped shutting this out. I needed to think. Really think.
“That’s cool. Anyway, don’t bother listening to me, because I don’t know shit. Except for one thing.” Midge dropped her second cigarette to the sidewalk and crushed it with her boot. “There’s no point worrying so hard you can’t breathe. Life’s short, and you’ve got to make sure there’s time to live it.”
Yours, Sharon
Wednesday, June 28, 1978
Dear Sharon,
Are you okay? I think you’re awake—your door’s closed and your light’s on—but I didn’t want to bother you by knocking. Midge said you decided to take the bus home on your own. I’m glad you made it back safe.
I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have followed you outside tonight, but I could tell you were upset. I thought it was all my fault. Now, though, I’m wondering if you might’ve been upset about something else, too.
I’m sliding this under your door now. I’ll come back in ten minutes and then again ten minutes after that if you want to slide something back to me. If you don’t, that’s okay. If there’s anything you do want to talk about, though, our pledge still stands.
Anyway...just wanted you to know I’m thinking about you.
Yours, Tammy
Wednesday, June 28, 1978
Dear Tammy,
Okay. Since you asked...
Tammy, I feel so stupid.
There’s so much I don’t understand. This all seems to come easily to everyone else, but I’ve been so mixed up.
My whole life, I never fit. Not at school, not at church, not in this city. Or at least this neighborhood.
That changed the first time I went to a punk show. It changed more when I went to the bookstore. Then you showed up, and everything changed all over again, a hundred times over. Do you know what I mean?
Wait, listen to me. What am I saying? You can’t know what I mean. You fit everywhere without trying.
I’m so glad you’re here, Tammy. Please don’t think you messed anything up for me. I wish you could stay forever.
Also... Midge told me something tonight, and I’ve been thinking, and...maybe she’s right. Maybe I just need to live my life.
Sorry, I’m not making sense.
Write back if you’re awake.
Yours, Sharon
Wednesday, June 28, 1978
Dear Sharon,
You make total sense. And of course I’m awake. Getting letters from you is way more exciting than sleeping. It’s like in the old days, except instead of waiting for the mailman, I can just come up the stairs to see if there’s a folded piece of notebook paper waiting for me.
Anyway, I do know what you mean. I never fit anywhere either until I got here. I could pretend I belonged—I guess I’ve gotten good at that—but it’s not the same as really finding a place. I know that now.
But I should probably stop writing before I say something I regret later.
Have a good night, Sharon.
Yours, Tammy
Wednesday, June 28, 1978
Dear Tammy,
I don’t think we should worry about saying things we regret. We made a pledge, and pledges are serious business.
Besides, there are some things I want to say now that I might finally be starting to figure things out.
What Midge said tonight made something shift inside my head. It’s as though I’ve been trying to solve a puzzle for months, maybe years, but I was missing a piece the whole time, and tonight I might have found it. It’s scary to think about what it could mean, but it’s still a huge relief to have it worked out.
It would be good to talk about it all. Especially with you. Since a lot of it’s about you.
Not tonight, though. We’d have to whisper, and that’s not what I want. Could we meet after work tomorrow? There’s a coffee shop on Felton where we shouldn’t see anyone we know.
What do you think?
Yours, Sharon
P.S. I see what you meant. Writing that down wasn’t easy, pledge or no pledge.
Wednesday, June 28, 1978
Dear Sharon,
Yes. Tomorrow after work. I switched my shift with Peter so I could go to SFAI tomorrow and work in the darkroom, but I should be done by the time you’re finished babysitting. I’ll come meet you at the coffee shop right away.
And as much as I hate to say it, we should probably stop writing now. You have to be at the O’Sullivans’ early, and running after toddlers is hard on no sleep.
P.S. Given the pledge and all, I’ll admit—I’m already counting down the hours.
Thursday, June 29, 1978
Dear Diary,
I spent most of today in gleeful anticipation. It feels like a million years ago now.
I was distracted all through babysitting. Penny kept having to shout to get my attention. When Mr. O’Sullivan finally got home, a few minutes earlier than usual, I hugged the kids goodbye and sped out the door.
I wanted to run home and change so I could beat Tammy to the coffee shop. I knew what I wanted to say to her, but it’d be easier if I was sitting down when she arrived. I needed time to breathe, or I’d get flustered and blush and probably forget everything I’d practiced in my head.
My hands trembled, heavy with a mix of eagerness and nerves, as I pushed open our front door. I expected Mom to be home alone, since Peter was working Tammy’s usual shift, but I’d barely cracked open the front door before I heard a voice floating out from the living room.
At first I thought Mom was watching TV, but it was too early for The Waltons. Besides, the voice was extremely familiar.
“Ah, that must be your daughter now,” the voice said. My breath caught. “Sharon, how lovely to meet you at last!”
A middle-aged woman with perfectly teased brown hair was sitting on the couch next to my mother, holding a lipstick-stained coffee mug and smiling up at me.
I stepped inside fast and locked the door behind me, pressing my back against it and fervently praying for Tammy not to come home.
I’d never seen Aunt Mandy before, but I was as certain it was her as I had been the morning Tammy first showed up at my door. Some people are impossible to mistake.
I had to get rid of her, and fast. If Tammy saw her, she’d be terrified.
But she was probably already at the coffee shop. Right? Please, God, let Tammy be at the coffee shop.
Except—what if she wanted to change clothes first, too? Besides, what was her aunt doing here, talking to my mother?
Wait. Wait. Oh, God.
What if Aunt Mandy already told Mom?
Oh, God, oh, God, oh God...
“Sharon, dear, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Aunt Mandy set her mug on the coffee table next to a Tupperware dish and stood, smoothing out her spotless blue dress. Mom didn’t get up, but she was beaming, looking way too cheerful for someone sitting next to one of the worst human beings on the planet.
No—no, that was a good thing. If Mom was smiling, Tammy’s aunt must not have told her anything significant. Yet.
Aunt Mandy held out her hand, beckoning to me, her smile wide and brittle. “I was just visiting with your mother. Come, sit with us and have a treat.”
“Tammy’s aunt was kind enough to bring over some delicious homemade cookies.” Mom brushed crumbs off her fingers and reached for the Tupperware dish. “I told her we’d thought Tammy didn’t have any other family, but she says the two of you have spoken before?”
“I, ah...”
I was trapped.
There was nothing I could say to both of them together. If Peter were here, or Tammy, they’d know how to handle this. They’d have some smooth lie ready to go, but I was too terrified to speak.
No. I couldn’t think that way. Aunt Mandy could do a lot more damage to Peter and Tammy than she could to me. I had to be the one to fix this, somehow.
“I was telling your mother how much we’ve appreciated your positive influence on my niece.” Aunt Mandy’s smile was thick and saccharine. “You’re such a sweet Christian girl, and we know how much you wanted to help your pen pal. Unfortunately I fear her situation is, well...beyond the help of lay people such as ourselves.”
Mom’s smile faded as she turned to Aunt Mandy. “The poor girl. You think the situation’s that bad?”
Mom wouldn’t call Tammy a “poor girl” if she knew the truth. She wouldn’t act sympathetic—just outraged. Aunt Mandy couldn’t have told her the specifics of Tammy’s “situation”...yet.
“It may well be.” Aunt Mandy made a face as though she’d just bit down on a plump homosexual lemon and turned back to me. “That’s why it’s very important that I speak with Tammy. Your mother said you’d know where to find her. I already went by the market where she works, but a young man—I assume he was your brother—was there alone.”
“Yes, I wasn’t sure what Tammy’s plans were for today.” Mom tilted her head at me. “Will she be coming to the house soon? She’ll be so happy to see her aunt.”
“Of course she will.” Aunt Mandy didn’t let me get a word in. Not that I had any idea what I could’ve possibly said. “In any case, Sharon, just let me know what Tammy’s up to. I told your mother I was sure you’d want to help. A good girl like you would never hesitate to tell an adult what she needs to know.”
The threat in her words made me swallow tightly. I had to think of some sort of lie. Anything at all. “Um, she’s, er—Tammy is...”
A key turned in the lock behind me.
“Ah, that must be her now. Never mind, Sharon.” Aunt Mandy walked swiftly toward the door, trying to pass me, but I didn’t budge. She paused, waiting for me to step aside, meeting my eyes with a challenge in her own.
I didn’t look away. Maybe I couldn’t fix this with words, but at the very least I could physically put myself between Tammy and the person who wanted to hurt her.
The door opened a crack. I turned, ready to tell her to run, but it was my brother who peered through the gap, his mouth quirked in confusion. There was no sign of Tammy with him. He pushed the door open the rest of the way, until he was face-to-face with Aunt Mandy.
“Oh, you must be Sharon’s brother.” Her fake-sweet voice rang out behind me. I didn’t turn to look, but I could hear her smiling that sick smile again. “I spotted you at the store. What a strapping young man you are.”
Peter turned back to me, his eyes saucer-wide.
We were wasting time. Tammy could get here any second. I stepped forward, trying to slip out the door behind Peter so I could catch her before she came in, but he didn’t move.
“Sharon?” Mom asked behind me, sounding confused. “Are you going out again?”
“My name is Mrs. Dale, Peter,” Aunt Mandy said pleasantly. “We spoke on the phone once. Your sister is being very resistant to helping your poor friend Tammy, but I’m sure you’ll be more reasonable. After all, I’ve heard so much about you.”
I stopped moving.
She wouldn’t tell Mom about Peter. Would she?
Of course she would. She had no reason not to.
Peter’s face had gone white as he registered the threat.
“Mom.” I turned around. I couldn’t stand there, paralyzed, any longer. “Don’t believe anything she tells you. She isn’t here because she wants to help, she’s only—”
“I’m gay, Mom.”
My brother’s voice sliced through the room.
Mom froze on the sofa, her lips parted half an inch, her eyes unblinking. Even Aunt Mandy looked stunned.
“I’m sorry, if—” Peter swallowed. I turned back to face him, trying to support him with silent, steady eyes, but he was looking straight at Mom, a pleading expression on his face. “I’m really sorry if that upsets you, but it’s who I am. Tammy is, too—that’s why she had to leave home. Her aunt’s probably here to drag her back for electroshock therapy or something. So...now I guess you know everything we’ve been so scared to say all along.”
A quiet moment passed. Mom hadn’t moved.
Peter glanced my way. He nodded, a small movement, but enough for me to see.
This was my chance. Peter was wrong—Mom didn’t know everything. She didn’t know about me.
I could tell her. I should tell her. Telling her meant I’d never have to lie again.
But
I hadn’t even told Tammy yet. I still wasn’t sure I understood it all myself.
Aunt Mandy jumped in to fill the silence.
“Peter.” Her smile had gone thin. “You’re a very confused boy, and I feel a great deal of pity for you, but I do hope you understand you’ve just broken your mother’s heart.”
I wanted to kick her, but Peter didn’t even seem to hear. He was focused solely on Mom, his eyes watery.
Aunt Mandy lifted a sleek brown canvas purse onto her shoulder. “Mrs. Hawkins, this should be a family conversation. I’ll pray for your son to find guidance through our Holy Lord and Savior. Now, I’ll see myself out. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
She was going to look for Tammy. What would she do when she found her? Drag her kicking and screaming back to Orange County to face her family’s wrath? Or was she only here because Tammy had proof that she and her husband were a pair of opportunistic thieves?
I wasn’t waiting to find out.
I shoved past Aunt Mandy, ignoring her yelp of complaint, and tore through the door and down the front steps. She was quick to follow in my wake, moving with astonishing speed in her brown suede pumps.
“You’re wise to leave, Sharon.” Her breath was cool and steady over my shoulder, as though we weren’t running at all. “No need to get involved in this messy situation with your brother. Let’s find Tammy so we can get her the help she needs, and I’ll be on my way.”
I whipped around to face her. “Shut UP!”
Aunt Mandy stepped back, her eyes widening in surprise. She wasn’t expecting me to shout at her. Neither was I.
“After what you just did?” I stood, my chest heaving. “You don’t know me, or my brother. You couldn’t care less if you’ve destroyed our family. All you care about is...”
But I couldn’t muster the rest of what I wanted to say.
I wanted to tell her to stop pretending she’d come here to help anyone. She only cares about herself—that’s all she’s ever cared about. She thinks she’s so important, that her church, her town, is her very own little kingdom.