Music from Another World

by Robin Talley

  But she’s going to lose. And when that happens, she’ll be left with nothing. Her, and all the others like her. They can keep trying to stop the world from changing, but nothing they do will make them matter in the end.

  I wanted to shout the words loud enough for my entire block to hear. But my chest was heaving, and my voice couldn’t squeeze through the anger in my throat.

  Aunt Mandy’s smile had faded a little, though. “Your brother is...confused.”

  I wanted to tell her Peter wasn’t confused at all. He understood a lot more about the world than I did. And he knew a Hell of a lot more than her.

  From the new tilt to her head and the thin line pressed between her lips, I wondered for a second if Tammy’s aunt might actually be starting to realize just how badly she’d screwed things up for my brother. I wondered if she might even feel guilty for it. Before either of us could say any more, though, footsteps rang out on the sidewalk, then stopped abruptly.

  I turned. Tammy was watching us from ten feet back, her mouth hanging open, her purse slung over her shoulder.

  She spoke quietly, but clearly. “Hi, Aunt Mandy.”

  The strange expression on Mrs. Dale’s face transformed instantly into her usual sickly smile. “Tammy! Good heavens, your hair is so...well, never mind. Your friend here was just about to bring me to you, but I’m delighted you found us instead.”

  “Don’t bother lying.” Tammy didn’t smile back. Her lower lip was trembling.

  I wanted to shout at Aunt Mandy to get away from us, to leave Tammy alone. Yet when I opened my mouth, it was all I could do not to choke out a sob.

  “You don’t have to pretend for Sharon’s benefit.” Tammy lifted her chin. “She already knows the truth. Every bit of it.”

  “Then this should be easy.” Aunt Mandy’s smile didn’t fade a smidgen. “Let’s just get your things, and we’ll go back home.”

  “Don’t act like you care about me going back.” Tammy reached into the purse on her shoulder, fumbling with the flap. Her eyes filled with tears, but her voice never lost its strength. “I know you don’t want me screwing up your perfect fucking family portrait.”

  Aunt Mandy’s smile finally faltered at sound of the word fucking. “Young lady, I don’t know what you—”

  “Here. This is what you came for. The only one of my things that matters to you.”

  Tammy pulled a small, flat brown object from her purse and tossed it to the ground. Aunt Mandy’s eyes lit up. She stepped forward, bending down to snatch it up in an instant.

  The check register.

  Tammy was right. Her aunt didn’t come here for her at all.

  Now my mother knew about Peter. She knew about Tammy, too. All for nothing.

  “Is there some favor you’re expecting in exchange for this?” Aunt Mandy’s smile was slightly warmer than it had been before. It’s possible she was genuinely happy.

  “I’m not stupid enough to expect anything from you.” Tammy crossed her arms. Her eyes shone with tears. “All I want is for you to leave me alone. You can consider that a parting gift.”

  “I see.” The glee in her aunt’s eyes didn’t lessen. “Your parents will be disappointed you won’t be coming back, but I suppose, if that’s your choice...”

  “It is.”

  “Well, it may turn out to be a blessing.” Aunt Mandy’s eyes glittered. “Your family should see that soon enough. If they haven’t already.”

  “Go to Hell.” Tammy balled both hands into fists.

  “Such language you’ve learned in San Francisco.” Aunt Mandy chuckled. “Well, I’ll be on my way. Take care, girls.”

  We waited as she walked slowly, casually, away from us, her hurried movements from a short while ago replaced by a light spring in her step.

  I understood the full depths of Tammy’s hatred now.

  I waited until her aunt had turned the corner and disappeared from sight before I turned back to Tammy. “Are you all right?”

  She wiped the last of the tears off her face, her gaze focused on the spot where Mrs. Dale had disappeared. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I wanted to touch her somehow, but I didn’t want to startle her. I settled for laying a few light fingers on her elbow. If she noticed, she didn’t show it. “I tried to catch up to you before she could, but—”

  Tammy let out a short laugh. “There was nothing you could’ve done to stop her when she was on a tear like that. We’re lucky we got out alive.”

  “I guess.” I rocked back on my heels and took my hand off her arm. I knew she was upset, but I couldn’t help wishing she’d look at me. “Also, um. I should tell you. She came to the house first and talked to Mom. Peter got home, and your aunt was threatening him, and...he told Mom about him. And you.”

  Now Tammy did look my way. “What did your mom say?”

  “Nothing. I came to find you before she’d answered. She seemed upset, though.”

  “Oh.” Tammy turned back to the house. We were halfway down the block, but we could see the front steps, looking the same as ever. There was no hint that a catastrophe had just happened inside. “Then I guess I’d better not go in.”

  “I mean...it’s probably all right. She already said you could stay with us.” But I could hear the uncertainty in my words. Mom had said that before she knew.

  “I don’t think so. But you should go in. You don’t want to leave your brother alone right now.”

  Shit. I should’ve thought of that. “You’re right.”

  “Take this with you.” Tammy pulled a notebook out of her purse. It was bent, the spiral bindings coming uncurled. She opened it, ripped out a sheet of paper, and folded it in half. “I wrote it last week, but I chickened out before I could give it to you. This is what I would’ve said at the coffee shop today.”

  I took the paper. “Thank you. Tammy, I’m sorry, I...”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just go back in, please.”

  “What about you? Where will you go?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You can call me at the store. Leave a message with Rosa and I’ll get it tomorrow.”

  “What about until then? You can’t walk around the city all night again.”

  “I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”

  I shifted on my feet. This felt too much like a goodbye, and I still had a lot I needed to say to her. “I’ll come meet you at the store tomorrow.”

  “Don’t. I’m not sure when I’ll be around—it depends on a lot of things. Besides, your brother’s going to need you.”

  She was right. Still—“I’m so sorry this happened, Tammy.”

  “Me, too.” She let out a tiny choking sound. “God, I’m so sorry. I ruined everything for your family.”

  “You didn’t. It’s not that simple. Besides, none of this is your fault, not even a little bit.”

  She shook her head. “There’s no point trying to figure this out now. Go. I’ll see you later.”

  I wanted to touch her again. Instead I nodded and turned back toward home.

  I told myself it was all right as I crossed the short distance up the block. I told myself I’d see her again. Soon.

  But she was already out of sight when I climbed the steps and twisted the knob on the front door.

  It was unlocked. The living room was quiet and empty. I stepped across it warily, as though I was walking into a war zone and had to keep alert for stray bullets.

  “Mom?” I called. “Peter?”

  My only answer was dishes rattling in the kitchen. I stepped through the door.

  Mom was at the sink, twisting the faucet to run water over the breakfast plates. They were piled high, crusted with old syrup. I was supposed to have washed them this morning. Mom turned the water on full blast and shoved a plate under the tap.

  �
�Mom?”

  At first I didn’t think she’d heard me, but a moment later she turned her head without meeting my eyes. “Hi, Sharon.”

  “Is Peter upstairs?”

  She turned back to the dishes. “That girl can’t stay here anymore. I don’t want you seeing her again.”

  I swallowed. “Mom, she didn’t do anything wrong, she—”

  “You lied to me.” She wouldn’t look at me. “You might think I’m a fool, but I’m still your mother and you’re still a child, and I will not allow you to carry on this way.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “That’s enough. You’re grounded for the rest of the summer. I’ll pack up that girl’s things and put them on the porch. She can come pick them up when we’re not home, or if she doesn’t, I’ll throw them in the garbage, but she’s not setting foot inside this house again. Don’t go thinking you’ll be calling her or writing to her, either. Whatever it is that’s been happening to this family, it ends now.”

  I gulped, tears pricking at my eyes. “I’ll pack her stuff. Peter can help me.”

  “I don’t want you touching her things.”

  What did Mom think? That Tammy was contagious? “Okay. I’ll just go upstairs then. Is Peter—?”

  “Your brother’s not here.” Mom finally turned off the tap.

  “What? Isn’t he grounded, too?”

  “No. He’s gone.”

  “What?” I didn’t understand.

  Or...maybe I did.

  “I told you. He’s gone. He isn’t coming back.” Mom turned her back on me, wrapping her arms around herself, her fingertips turning white as she gripped her elbows. She let out a hiccup, then a sob. “He said...he asked me to tell you goodbye.”

  Yours, Sharon

  Fall, 1978

  Friday, September 22, 1978

  Dear Tammy,

  Hi.

  I’m writing this early in the morning, staring out my window at the fog. I couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking.

  It’s been so long since I saw you. More than two months—gosh, it was June when you got here, and it was still June when your aunt showed up and everything went to Hell.

  Please believe me, I tried to call you at the store the way we planned, but Mom wouldn’t let me touch the phone for two days after you left. She unplugged both extensions, took the phones into her room, and hid them. She made me call in sick to the O’Sullivans, too, even though it meant Mr. O’Sullivan couldn’t go to work. When she finally let me go back to babysitting she made me swear on Jesus’s name I wouldn’t use the phone while I was there, and, well... I did it, anyway. I didn’t think Jesus would mind. But Rosa told me you’d quit, and you hadn’t given them a number to reach you. She sounded sad about it, but I bet I sounded sadder.

  I’m so sorry, Tammy. There were so many things I wanted to say to your aunt that day, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to stop what was happening, but I didn’t know how. I was scared. So scared I was useless.

  I’ve been permanently grounded since you left. I can only leave the house for babysitting and church, and school, too, now that it’s started back up. Mom barely goes out, either, so we do a lot of avoiding each other. She spends most of the time in her room with the door shut. Even more than she used to.

  I guess that’s mostly what I’ve been doing, too. I miss hanging out at the bookstore. I miss going to clubs, too, but not as much as I thought I would. I’ve got my records—I still listen to Horses every night—but going to shows, losing myself in the anger there...I don’t need that as much as I used to. I’m angry because I’m sick of everyone expecting me to want the same things they want, but I don’t need to yell about that as much as I did before. Instead I’m thinking more about the things I do want, and how to make them happen.

  I think about you every day, Tammy. Ever since I talked to Rosa, I’ve been desperate to know if you were still in the city, and if your aunt went looking for you again. And a lot of other things, too.

  I know the answer to the first question, finally. My brother called yesterday while Mom was at a faculty meeting. He’d heard through the Castro grapevine that you’re staying with Evelyn and her roommates at their house near Valencia. He couldn’t get your phone number, but he found your address so I could write to you. He’s a good brother.

  I was so happy when I heard that you’d found a place. So, so, so happy. I’m glad you’re with friends, but mostly I’m just glad you’re okay.

  Peter even heard you’re going to be in some kind of art show soon. That’s so awesome! Maybe I can sneak out to see it.

  I can’t help being angry you had to go hunting for somewhere to live, though, with no help from your family at all, even after they found out where you were. You’re only seventeen, the same as me. As Mom tells me over and over, I’m legally a child, which means I’m her responsibility. Well, that makes you your parents’ responsibility.

  It’s different for Peter. Where he lives is his choice, and things between him and our mother are...not good.

  They still haven’t seen each other, not since that day. He told me the rest of what happened, though.

  As soon as your aunt and I left the house, Mom started crying. Peter went over to the couch and tried to reassure her, and at first he thought it was working, but then she started to scream. She shouted about how she hadn’t raised Peter to be gay and it was our father’s fault for walking out on us and...well, you get the idea.

  So Peter left. He went up to his room, grabbed some clothes and some books, came back downstairs, and walked out the back door.

  Mom didn’t speak the whole time he was packing up. When he said goodbye she just sat on the couch, staring out the living-room window, as though if she ignored what was happening, my brother would magically start being straight.

  He hasn’t been back to the house since, but I’ve seen him a few times. He’s come to visit me at my babysitting jobs, but it’s hard for him to get away from work much, so mostly we talk when he calls the house. He always waits until he knows Mom will be out.

  He’s living with a bunch of guys on Polk Street. Dean invited him to move to Palo Alto, but he decided to stay in the city and take classes at CCSF instead. He’s got a new job at a restaurant that pays a lot more than he used to get at Javi’s, so he can cover his own rent and tuition.

  Mom wrote him a letter a couple of weeks ago and asked me to mail it to him. She wants him to move back home. She offered to pay his tuition to State the way they’d planned, but she made it clear he’d have to live under her rules.

  He wrote back and said no. He’s making his own choices now.

  I’m happy for him, but...I’ve lost him, Tammy. I always knew I would someday, but I wasn’t ready for it to happen this fast. He’ll always be my brother, but he isn’t mine anymore.

  But that doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would, either. When I see him now, he looks so happy. He’s finally getting to be himself, even if he’s doing it without me.

  Anyway, I...

  Okay, look. Tammy, I’ve got to admit, I’m kind of stalling.

  I didn’t sit down to write this letter because I wanted to give you an update on my family. I sat down to write because I wanted to tell you everything I didn’t get to say that day.

  I read the letter you gave me. It was incredible, Tammy. Still, though...you wrote that months ago. With everything that’s happened, the way you feel might’ve changed. I totally understand if that’s what happened.

  But for me...the way I feel has only gotten stronger.

  So, here goes. I’m going to write all this, straight through, without going back to cross anything out or erase it.

  I think I’m bisexual.

  And...it’s like you said in your letter. I feel the same way you did. I want to share the world with you, too.

  Wow. Okay. I wrote that d
own. Everything else should be easy from here, right?

  No—this isn’t easy at all. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely write. The idea of saying that was so scary, for so long.

  I’m sorry if knowing this makes you feel awkward. I missed my chance back on Gay Freedom Day, and that’s my own fault.

  And you’d have every right to hate me after the way I completely failed to help when your aunt was here. Or maybe you’re dating one of those cool women you live with now, and you’d have every right to do that, too.

  I just needed you to know.

  There’s only one other thing I have to do, and then I’ll make sure you get this letter. I can’t mail it—there isn’t time—but I’ve got a plan. The thing I have to do first is a big deal, a really big deal, but writing this gave me the courage I needed.

  I’m so sorry. Even after we made our pledge, it took me this long to be truly, totally honest.

  It took me longer to be honest with myself, too, but I’m trying to do better on that front as well. Starting right now.

  Yours, Sharon

  Friday, September 22, 1978

  Dear Diary,

  This is going to be messy, since I’m writing on a bus. There’s no way I’ll have time to write about everything that’s happened so far before we have to stop, but I need to get down what I can before I start to forget.

  The first thing I did this morning, after I finished my letter to Tammy and slid it into my backpack, was go see my mother.

  I knocked lightly on her bedroom door and hefted the backpack on my shoulder. Mom doesn’t come out of her room much lately unless it’s for work or church. I’ve started eating alone most nights, standing up in the kitchen. I’ve become an expert on stirring Rice-A-Roni.

  I waited until I heard movement on the other side of the door. First came rustling sheets, and a minute later, soft footsteps. It was past seven on a school day, but when the door swung open Mom was still in her nightgown, her hair matted to her head. She’s been sleeping later since Peter moved out. “What is it, Sharon?”