Grrrls on the Side

by Carrie Pack

  “No, I mean about… us.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” Kate tucks her hair behind her ear. “I know I look like I have my shit together, but I’m honestly just trying to figure stuff out like everyone else.”

  I want to say something. I should say something. But I’m in shock. Did Kate actually apologize to me? Did she apologize to me and admit she’s floundering like the rest of us? I have no idea what to do with this information.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Kate says and, for a moment, I wonder if she can read my mind. “I wanted to say I’m sorry and I did. I’d like to be friends if you’re amenable.”

  Something about Kate using her five-dollar words thaws the icy shards in my veins that are left over from when she shattered my heart.

  “I think I’d like that,” I say.

  “You would?” Kate’s eyebrows nearly reach her hairline.

  “What? You thought I’d spit in your face?”

  “You know, the thought had occurred to me.” There’s a tremor in her voice that supports her words. The fact that Kate was worried I’d reject her makes me want to laugh. I place my hand over hers.

  “It’s in the past.” It’s not a full redemption, but it’s all I’ve got.

  She smiles at me, and I think everything might be fine between us.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Jackie stands in the doorway to the rec center, one hand still on the door. She’s backlit so I can’t quite see her face, but I can tell from her posture she’s angry. I pull my hand back from Kate’s.

  “Jacks, I was wondering where—” I smile, but Jackie cuts me off before I can finish.

  “I should have known. I was always the second choice, wasn’t I?”

  “Jackie, it’s not like that.”

  I stand and take a few steps forward. Now that I can see her face, I can tell that lurking below her anger is a layer of hurt. Tears sparkle in the corners of her eyes, but they refuse to fall. I reach for her, but she jerks her arm away.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “Kate and I were just talking,” I say, pleading with my eyes for her to believe me. “She was apologizing for what happened between us.”

  Jackie’s hands are clenched into fists at her sides. If I didn’t know her so well, I might think she was gearing up for a fight, but she’s trying to control her breathing. I want to hug her, but I’m afraid she might take off if I step any closer. Her eyes dart from me to Kate as if she’s trying to decide if we’re telling the truth. Out of the corner of my eye I can see that all the other girls are now staring at us. Waiting, I hold my breath.

  “Then why were you holding hands?” Jackie’s voice is calm. Too calm.

  “We were playing cat’s cradle,” I say with a laugh. Immediately I regret it.

  Jackie’s gaze drops to the floor, and she blinks back tears. My stomach lurches with guilt. I’d rather she yell at me than this. I can’t stand to see her in pain.

  “Why are you lying to me?” she asks quietly.

  Kate stands up and steps between us. “Jackie, you got this all wrong.”

  I grab Kate’s arm. “Don’t.”

  Jackie’s eyes lock on my hand where it rests on Kate’s bicep. Her jaw tenses as a single tear falls. She turns on her heel and is out the door before I can catch up to her.

  “Let her go,” Kate says. “She’ll calm down and then you can reason with her.”

  “Kate, look, I said I’d try and be friends, but right now you need to mind your own fucking business.”

  Kate’s blue eyes grow wide, and she clamps her mouth shut. I take off after Jackie.

  I find Jackie at our park, sitting on our usual bench. She doesn’t look up when I approach and folds in on herself when I sit down beside her. Her arms crossed tightly across her chest, she stares straight ahead.

  “Jackie, please talk to me.”

  “I have nothing to say,” she says, calmly.

  “Well, I do. Please let me explain.”

  She stares, unblinking, at the horizon. I take her silence as a complicit go-ahead.

  “Kate and Cherie were playing cat’s cradle and when Cherie went to the bathroom, I picked it up. That’s all. Kate apologized for the way she treated me and asked if we could be friends. The string got tangled on my wrist and Kate was helping me get it off. That’s all that happened.”

  Jackie swallows and nods. Her voice is barely audible. “You two looked pretty cozy when I came in.”

  “Well, I can’t speak for Kate, but I was just killing time while waiting for you. Honestly. Nothing happened. And nothing’s going to happen. That’s history. Promise. I love you.”

  I wait for a response, but she keeps staring off into the distance. I reach for her hand, and she doesn’t pull away. After a few moments, her shoulders relax, and her eyes shift to the ground in front of our feet. And then slowly, she curls her fingers around mine.

  “Here. I got you this,” she says, reaching into her pocket with her free hand. She holds up a tiny red box with a silver bow around it.

  I stare at the box, then glance at Jackie. “How? When?”

  “It’s why I was late.” She lifts it higher. “Take it.”

  Tentatively, I reach forward. What if she still rejects me? What if I’ve broken things beyond repair? But then logic creeps in amid my anxious thoughts. She wouldn’t give me a gift if she was breaking up with me. Just open the damn box.

  Slowly, with my hands shaking, I lift the lid. Sitting inside the box on a bed of black tissue paper is a key on a heart-shaped keychain. I hold it up and look to Jackie for clarification.

  “It’s to my car.” She shrugs. “I thought it would help if you had your own key for when we go on our road trip with the band.”

  “I haven’t talked to my mom yet,” I confess.

  “I know,” she says, leaning her elbows on her knees and hanging her head. “I thought it might be an incentive.”

  I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “It’s definitely an incentive.”

  She looks up, her brown eyes shining. “So go with me.”

  I set the key back in the box and replace the lid. I watch the way the fading sunlight plays on the glittery surface of the box. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You haven’t even asked yet!”

  “Well, no. But it’s also because I don’t know if I want to go. I really need the money from my job, and Mom’s still a mess.”

  Looking defeated, Jackie asks, “So is that a no?”

  “No,” I say. I hold my hand out and she takes it, albeit reluctantly. “It’s an ‘I don’t know.’”

  She pulls her hand away. “You’re just so fucking indecisive, Tabitha!”

  I narrow my eyes. There’s something more to what she’s saying than simply the trip. “What’s that supposed to mean? Indecisive about what?”

  “Never mind,” she mumbles.

  I stand on shaky legs. “No, tell me what you mean or I’m leaving.”

  She shakes her head.

  “Tell me.”

  She glances up at me and then folds her arms across her chest. I brace myself for whatever it is she’s about to say. It’s still not enough.

  “Me and Kate,” she says, as if that explains everything.

  “I told you that was nothing. I’m not indecisive. I chose you.”

  “No, I mean…. Okay, you say you’re bisexual,”

  “And?” I challenge.

  “You’ve only dated two people.” She pauses and fixes me with her gaze. “Both girls.”

  “So?”

  “So, that makes you a lesbian, my friend. A big, fat dyke with a big ole dyke girlfriend.” She gestures wildly with her hands while she talks, but I can’t move my feet.

  Just leave,
I tell myself. Walk away. But I can’t; I’m frozen. Except for the tears that stream down my cheeks and tickle my neck, I’m still. Jackie’s eyes blaze with the release of saying something that’s been weighing on her mind. Her breathing is rapid and barely audible over the blood pounding in my ears. She raises her eyebrows, waiting for me to speak, but like my legs, my lips are immobile.

  “Nothing to say? Or are you still deciding?”

  That breaks me. My tears come hotter and faster as fury burns through me.

  “Fuck you,” I manage on an exhale. “Just fuck you.”

  Finally, I find my ability to walk and I leave her there on the park bench. I drop the key on the sidewalk.

  I wander back into the rec center. I’m not ready to go home. These days Mom has been extra chatty, and I don’t want to explain my fight with Jackie. I push through the doors. As the artificially cooled air hits my skin, the heat from outside condenses and makes me feel sticky all over. I yank my hair into a messy ponytail and tie it in a knot at the base of my neck.

  A few more girls have showed up, including Monique. I take a seat next to Cherie.

  “What’d I miss?”

  “Monique is moving to Detroit, and Venus wants us to recruit more black girls so she and Jackie aren’t the only ones in our Riot Grrrl group.”

  “Why should we have to seek out people based on race?” Kate says. “If they don’t want to join, we can’t make them.”

  “Yeah, I’m all for including more diversity,” Marty adds, “but we can’t force it.”

  Monique rolls her eyes. “See, this is what I’m talking about!”

  The room erupts in a cacophony of arguments with Marty shouting to be heard over it all. But I’m so numb it barely registers. My mind is swimming, and tears sting my eyes.

  “You okay?” Cherie says. She’s the only one not caught up in the argument. “Where’s Jackie?”

  I shrug. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I get it,” Cherie says. “But I think Jackie might want to.” She points at the door where Jackie stands with the red box in her hands. Her face is calm; her posture is contrite. I walk across the room toward her.

  “I was just leaving,” I say as I try to push past her.

  She grabs my arm, but it’s gentle. “I’m so sorry, Tabitha. Can we go outside and talk?”

  I follow Jackie out back to the picnic table where she consoled me after Kate and I broke up. This time we sit side by side, but we don’t touch. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for her to speak.

  Jackie takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean it,” she says. “I knew as soon as it was out of my mouth that I was wrong. But when I get angry, I just can’t help myself.”

  “You hurt me,” I say. “I need you to be okay with my sexuality or this won’t work.”

  “I know,” she says, wiping a tear from my cheek. “And I am.”

  “Then why did you say it?”

  Jackie closes her eyes and sighs. Then she turns to face me. “Because I know you, and I know what will hurt you the most. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve always done it. I go for the jugular because if I can strike first, the other person can’t hurt me as bad.” She smooths her hand over my hair. “But this time it didn’t work.”

  “It didn’t?”

  “No, it didn’t. It didn’t work because you left my present on the sidewalk. And I realized something.”

  “What?”

  “That we have the power to hurt each other very, very deeply. And we have to be careful with each other or we’ll break our own hearts.”

  I bite my lip, but it’s no use. A tear hits my cheek and then another and another. Sniffing, I wipe them away. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I won’t be friends with Kate if you don’t want me to.”

  “I can’t ask you that.”

  “Yes, you can.” I take her hands in mine. “I love you, Jack. I’d do anything for you.”

  She smiles. “I love you, too.”

  When I kiss her, the world falls away, and I feel whole again.

  Chubby Bunny No. 2

  by Tabitha Denton

  Bisexuality is not a phase.

  Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase.

  IT’S NOT A PHASE!!!!

  I’m so sick of having to defend my sexuality. I like boys AND I like girls. These things are not mutually exclusive for me. But I’m also capable of being in a committed relationship. I’m not a cheater. I’m not INDECISIVE. I’m not a lesbian when I’m with a girl and I’m not straight when I’m with a guy. I’m bisexual all the time. All the time. ALL. THE. TIME.

  Law of Attraction

  I guess opposites are supposed to attract or whatever, but that doesn’t apply to me. At least not when it comes to gender. If I find someone attractive, gender is irrelevant.

  The first time I realized a person’s gender didn’t matter to me? It was a Saturday afternoon and k.d. lang was on MTV. The video for “Constant Craving”—an evocative black-and-white fever dream created by a short-haired sex bomb in a partially unbuttoned striped shirt—played boldly against a sea of sameness on my TV.

  My mom walked into the room and, lip curled in disgust, said, “Is that a man or a woman?” I looked at the screen, thinking, “Does it matter? That person is gorgeous.”

  Maybe I should have realized then that I was bisexual, but it took me a couple more years to figure it out. My celebrity crushes are a litany of androgyny and gender ambiguity. David Bowie, Boy George, Prince, Annie Lennox, and the list goes on. The line between male and female had blurred and I was obsessed. I cut my hair short (which turned out not to be a good look for me) and dressed in the most boyish clothes I had. Sadly, my gigantic boobs got in the way of my dream of androgynous glory, but I still found myself seeking out anyone who could straddle that line effortlessly.

  Chapter 15

  Shut Up is leaving on tour in less than a week, and the girls’ nerves seem to be frayed raw.

  “You’re missing your cue!” Marty yells. “Again!”

  “Sorry,” Cherie replies. “But Venus keeps going faster.”

  “I’m just following Kate’s lead,” Venus says.

  “You’re the fucking drummer!” Kate shouts. “We’re supposed to follow you.”

  “Jesus Christ! This is getting us nowhere.” Marty slips her guitar over her shoulder and storms off the stage.

  “Girl, get back here. We need to run through the new song!” Venus’s voice carries, but Marty ignores it and pushes through the double doors. In the growing darkness, the cherry from a cigarette flares to life.

  “I’ll go talk to her,” I offer. “I think you guys are just stressed about the tour. Maybe she’ll listen to an outside voice.”

  “I’ll join you,” Jackie says. She tosses an unreadable look over her shoulder that causes Venus to nod.

  “What was that about?” I whisper.

  Jackie waves it off. “Nothing. Let’s go talk to Marty.”

  I watch her intently, but her expression is neutral. I shrug it off and push open the doors. Marty is standing outside the entrance with her arms crossed. The butt of her cigarette is already stubbed out on the ground. She sees me and lights another.

  “Those things are so bad for you,” I say, as if I hadn’t smoked to get in with Mike.

  “If you came out here to lecture me, no thanks,” Marty says, taking a long drag. “I just needed a break
and I’d like to enjoy it in peace.”

  “We didn’t come out here to lecture you,” I say. “Right, Jackie?”

  She shakes her head.

  “We just thought maybe you’d like to vent to someone not in the band—an outsider, if you will.”

  Marty scoffs. “Right.”

  Jackie tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “Don’t attack us. We’re just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. You’ll probably run and tell Venus everything I say.”

  “Marty, that’s not fair,” I say.

  “Oh, so you chicks aren’t tight? Ain’t she your girl?”

  I feel Jackie’s body tense at the obvious mocking tone Marty is employing. She steps into Marty’s personal space. “Yeah, she’s my girl. What of it?”

  Marty laughs. It’s bitter and dangerous. “Oh, so now you’re going to get all ghetto on me?”

  “Marty, stop!” I glare at her, but she ignores me.

  “Oh, fuck this,” Jackie says. “You talk to this crazy bitch on your own, Tabitha. I’m going inside to talk with ‘my girl’ before I do something I’ll regret.”

  Jackie pulls the door open with more force than is necessary, but I’m glad she’s got our back to us because Marty chooses that moment to roll her eyes.

  “Marty, ease up. You’re going to get your ass kicked if you don’t stop talking like that.”

  “So it’s okay for her to call me ‘white girl’ but if I mention them sounding all ghetto, I’m wrong?” She throws her hands in the air and ashes rain down on us. “I’m so sick of this politically correct bullshit!”

  I’m not sure what to say to that. I think it might go beyond being politically correct, but I don’t want to egg Marty on. She’s already worked up. She stubs out her second cigarette and lights another.

  “Can I have one of those?” I ask. I haven’t had a cigarette since my days hanging with Mike behind the 7-Eleven, but right now I need something to do with my hands. Marty lights it for me and I inhale. I cough and sputter as the piercing burn of the smoke hits the back of my throat. “God, I forgot how disgusting this is.”