spill, there in
the shadows,
chokes your humanity.
Threatens your soul.
I Don’t Usually Think
A whole lot about the color of my skin.
Most of the time it’s not
an issue at all. Sometimes, I think, it can
be an advantage. Which is, of course,
a brand of reverse racism.
I mean, if you’re helping some school
fulfill their diversity quota, you might
actually get a boost
up over a Caucasian male with the same
GPA. If we didn’t live in one of Reno’s
pricier neighborhoods,
things would doubtless be different.
But it’s hard to argue with millionaires,
white, black, brown,
yellow, or any shade in between.
When you rub elbows with rich kids,
no one’s especially
worried about what might rub off.
I Have Heard
That in Deep South states like Alabama—hotbeds
of racial unrest in
the sixties—even today, they have segregated
schools. Probably not officially sanctioned
as such, but according to
Jenna, on a trip to visit family down “theya,”
her cousins made it clear that they attended
the “white high school.”
The one across town was “the colored school.”
I was something close to stunned. “You can’t
be serious! This is
the twenty-first century, for cripes’ sake!”
Visiting down there is definitely like
stepping back in
time. Not everything about that is
bad, though. Communities are safe.
Families are tight.
People are polite, respectful.…
“Except when it comes to people of color.
Not to mention gay
people. Muslims. Jews. God, Jenna.”
She slid her little hand into mine.
But that’s not me.
Sometimes I’m not even sure how I can
be related to them. I know my great-
great grandpa moved
down there during the Depression.
Somehow, he found work, when other
people couldn’t.
The South was good to him, and he
stayed a loyal Southerner. So did most
of his family, including
Dad. But someone had to break the cycle.
I’m sort of a cycle breaker, in case you
somehow haven’t
noticed. And no one speaks for me.
Just Like That
Everything was great between us
again. She has this way
of making me forgive her instantly
for any indiscretion, tiny or unimaginably
gigantic. Good thing loving
someone doesn’t require caring about
their parents. Jenna’s mom just kind of
ignores the fact that
I’m still dating her daughter. She’s so hung
up on Kendra and building her career that she
barely notices Jenna anyway.
Her father, I’m sure, hasn’t even come
close to accepting us. Not that it matters.
Jenna does as she pleases.
I definitely do not desire a confrontation,
however. In fact, I want to steer way beyond
clear of Rudolph
Mathieson. I kind of like being alive.
I Especially Like
Being alive when I’m dancing. It’s like
the best part of me
chassés out of the shadows, into the spotlight.
I usually have lessons on Saturday morning.
But Liana is taking
tomorrow off to drive to San Francisco
so she can spend Easter with her family.
So I am ball-changing
and pivot-stepping this afternoon instead.
Liana is working me hard. Posture!
Keep your shoulders
back. That’s it! Beautiful, Andre.
Okay, let’s practice some isolations now.
Left rib cage. Right rib
cage. Cooling me down after a couple
of very hard routines. She is evil. Good evil.
When we finish, every
muscle, tendon, and joint in my body sings.
I grab a towel, dry a little sweat, exit
the studio. Outside the door,
in the waiting room, is that cheerleader
on the Galena team. The one who stalked
off at the competition
that day. What was her name? Shan… tell.
Yeah, that’s it. Head bent toward her lap,
where she is busily
texting someone, she doesn’t notice me
at first. I think about backing away,
so she won’t know
about what I do on my free afternoons.
God, what if she tells everyone? Yeah, Andre,
right. Like who? And
there’s nowhere to back away to, anyway.
So I Take The Direct Approach
“Hello, Shantell.” Her head rolls up
from her texting.
It takes a few seconds for recognition.
Then her eyes go wide with surprise,
and her jaw drops
practically to her neck. You… dance?
“What? Did the leotard give it away?”
I smile. “Yes, in fact, I do
dance. You train with Liana too, I guess?”
Since I was little. But I’ve never seen
you here before.
Her voice is acid. Sharp. Caustic.
“I take private lessons. On Saturdays,
usually.” At the word
“private,” she starts to nod. “What?”
Nothing. It just figures that you’d take
private lessons. She
looks away as some other girls arrive
for their group lesson. “You don’t like
me very much, that’s
obvious. What I don’t get is why not.”
She turns to face me. Points toward
the mountain. I don’t
live up there. She means in a mansion
on the hill. And that pisses me off.
“Do you want me
to apologize because my parents worked
their asses off to become successful?
You could live up there
if you want. All it takes is determination.”
Baby, I’ve got plenty of that. Talent,
too. I’ll get there on
talent. Because I do not have connections.
I’m Not Sure If That Means
She likes me after all. Or if it means
she has forgiven me
for living up there. Or if it means one
damn thing, or why I even care. “So are
we friends now?” I smile
my warmest smile, expect her to melt.
She snorts. Yeah, right. Even if I thought
I could maybe like you,
I wouldn’t because you have crappy taste
in girlfriends. I mean, Kendra’s cool and
all, but her sister is just
a regular bee-otch. What you see in her…
She would doubtless say more, but
Liana pokes her head
through the door and calls the girls to class.
I don’t need to explain my love for Jenna.
So I say, “Whatever you think
about Jenna—or me—I like you, Shantell.”
As I Say It
I realize I really do like her, despite her open
contempt for me.
Not that it matters. “Have a great weekend.”
Yeah. You too. She tosses her head,
haughty and pretty
as some extravagant bird of prey.
And I watch her walk away, all rich cocoa
skin and sleek raven
hair and a dancer’s well-muscled body.
She is no Jenna, but she does have
something special
going on. Wait. Jenna. I forgot to call
and let her know I’d be late. Bet she’s mad.
I locate my cell, check
for messages. Uh-huh. Damn. Three of them.
Where are you? At least it’s a whine,
not a roar. And why
aren’t you picking up? Are you okay?
That’s it. Play the guilt card. She’s great
at that. But I should
have called. So I do now. “Hey. Sorry
I didn’t call sooner.…” She goes off
on me about how
worried she’s been. “I’m really sorry,
sweetheart. I… uh…” What do I tell
her? The truth? No way.
“…got hung up, filling out college applications
with my dad. He’s been pushing me to
do them for weeks now.
Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be right there.”
Don’t think she’d want me sweaty.
Then again, maybe
she’d like it. I get in my car and drive
home, wondering why I don’t feel like
I can share my private
dreams with the girl I’m so in love with.
Cara
Private Dreams
Snare you. Swallow you.
Make you feel
like you’re all
alone,
like you don’t want
to sleep and fall
into them. What good are
dreams
if you can’t share
them? How sad
to think there
are
people who must
move forward into
some hollow future,
empty
of hope. Destined
to travel an avenue
potholed with broken
promises.
Spring Break
Thank God. I need some time away
from school. Away from friends who
stopped being friends because of Sean.
What’s up with that, anyway?
But more, I need some time to spend
getting to know Dani better. And, if
I can find the courage, to let her get
to know me. Looking back, it’s clear
that I never opened all the way up
to Sean. Not even when I thought
I was in love with him. It’s genetic.
I am more like my mother than I ever
believed possible. In fact, I would
have sworn we were nothing alike,
that I have fought to be any person
other than her. I failed miserably.
I Haven’t Even Seen
Dani in a couple of weeks. Not
since before the whole Sean mess.
It’s not like I’ve purposely tried
to ignore her. Our schedules have
kept us apart. We have talked on
the phone, the sound of her voice
solace. I tried to tell her about Sean.
Couldn’t. Couldn’t tell anyone.
All I want is to forget the ugly
scene. But don’t think I ever can.
So I’ll use it to make me stronger.
Fuel myself with it, an energy drink.
Because now that I know who
I’m not, I can claim the person
I really am. Take ownership of her.
That’s my plan, and it’s starting
with Dani. Tonight. We’re going
to a party. “A Queer Spring Break
Bash” is how it’s been billed. Booze.
Beer. Drugs (?). And gay people.
Going With Dani
Means it will be my “coming out”
party, so to speak. Good? Bad?
Not sure. Am I ready to admit
so publicly who I’ve only just
decided I am? Answer, to come.
Now, what to wear? Jeans, of course.
Sweatshirt? (Sloppy.) Sweater?
(Girly.) Will anyone care, including
Dani? Girly is better than sloppy.
I own a dozen sweaters, all folded
in perfect colored squares on a closet
shelf. Jade. Turquoise. Ruby. Bone.
I choose the amethyst. It’s soft,
warm, and clings to my body like oil
on skin. Uggs? No. Black leather
boots with tall spike heels. Overall,
the look is dominatrix girly. Kind
of cool, kind of weird. Which
sums up how I feel right now.
Half amazing. Half out of my mind.
I Do My Best
To make sure Dani will only
see the amazing half. We meet
at Summit Sierra. No need to
chance parental third degree.
I park at the far perimeter
of the lot, anticipation nibbling.
I feel like a kid, waiting for some
indication of a sleigh on my rooftop.
An aging Subaru pulls in next
to my almost new Nissan. Behind
the windshield, Dani smiles, waves
me over. “Hey. So great to see you.
Love your hair.” The dark quills
are tipped with a striking blue.
Hey yourself. And damn, girl.
Do you know how hot you are?
The reindeer have arrived.
What I need now is for Santa
to come slipping down my chimney.
I try coy, not my best thing. “Me?”
Come on. You look totally edible.
She stretches across the console,
brings her face close to mine. Can
I have a little taste before we go?
For one nanosecond, I see Sean,
leaning over me. But Dani is not
Sean, and I accept her kiss easily.
It is hungry, but not demanding.
Rather, it convinces me that this
is, indeed, the place I am destined
to be. She leaves me breathless.
And freed of the weight of regret.
I leave her searching for breath,
too. Well, then. She inhales deeply.
I think I’ll need another snack later.
This should be an interesting night.
I Have No Clue
What she means. But I guess I’ll
find out. The party is at a little house
near the UNR campus. The narrow
street is lined on both sides with
cars. We have to park several blocks
away, on a patch of dirt by the rail-
road tracks. As I get out of the car,
I catch my right heel, but manage
to save both it and me. “That was
close. Guess I should have worn
the Uggs.” Dani slides an arm
around my waist, and I press tight
against her. No way, she says, no
Uggs for you. You’re too freaking
sexy in those boots. No worries.
I’ll keep you upright. For now.
We start down the time-gnawed
sidewalk, linked hip to hip.
In the shadows, we hit a slick
strip of ice, but Dani is true
to her word. Okay, those are definitely
not great winter boots. Her grip
around me tightens. In fact, I would
rate them abysmal. And totally hot.
They do make me taller than her,
so the top of he
r head is nose level.
Shampoo, gel, hair dye, or all three,
the soft, fruity scent of her grows
as we walk, and by the time we reach
our destination, I must smell as if I
belong to her. And I like it. How primal.
Just as Dani starts to knock, the door
opens. Laughter spills out, along
with a quite inebriated girl. Careful
of those Jell-O shots, she warns.
They might get you all fucked up.
And she definitely knows from
experience. She stumbles toward
a leafless hedge, hurls something
thick and red. Dani and I go inside.
I Expect Her to Let Go
Of me. She doesn’t, at least not
right away. Her hold is protective,
possessive. The front room is packed
tightly with people. We work our way
through the human mesh, drawing
more than a few direct stares. Can’t be
because we’re together. I’ve never
seen so many same-sex couples before.
Not all in one place, laughing, downing
drinks, making out in plain view.
Other than the girl-girl, boy-boy thing,
it’s like any party I’ve ever been to.
I wish I could say I feel comfortable.
I put my mouth against Dani’s ear.
“What’s everyone looking at?”
At first, I think she can’t hear me.
She doesn’t answer immediately.
Finally we push our way through
the thick knot of people, into a semi-
quiet corner. They’re looking at you.
I know quite a few of these people.
They’ve never seen me with you
before, or with anyone remotely
like you. We are a topic of interest.
Sure enough, when I glance
around, I see people checking us
out. Evaluating. “What do you mean,
not even remotely like me?”
Dani waves to a girl across the room.
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