Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel

by Sara Farizan

  “Hi, Ms. Taylor!”

  Mr. Harris shuts his mouth.

  “Hi, Leila! You look great!” she says, equally perky.

  “So do you! That dress is just fabulous!”

  When Mr. Harris walks away, we ditch the overcaffeinated act.

  “Thanks, Leila. I was about to give in.”

  “He looked sincere, whatever it was he was selling.”

  “Men are stupid,” Ms. Taylor says, and I chuckle. I’m always going to think of Ms. Taylor as one of my first big crushes, albeit a teacher crush, but now she’s like a friend. She does look superhot, though.

  “So, you here with anyone special?” she asks.

  “No, just a friend. A guy friend.”

  “Well, that’s nice. College will be different, Leila. Women will be lined up around the block. I had a phase in college actually . . .” I really want her to keep going with that story, but my attention is elsewhere.

  She’s here.

  I say good-bye to Ms. Taylor and approach Lisa, who’s looking stunning in a black halter dress. She doesn’t look self-conscious or awkward, like a lot of the other girls in their updos and caked-on makeup, teetering on stilettos. She looks serene and natural, like she’s used to wearing a beautiful dress.

  “Hi.” I’m glad the lights are dim since I can’t tear my eyes away from her.

  “You look . . . like you didn’t dress yourself,” Lisa replies.

  “Can’t you just say I look nice?”

  “You look nice. More than nice, actually,” she says, quirking a brow, and I feel like my smile is going to make my face explode.

  “You’re gorgeous. Don’t you find it exhausting, being so pretty?” I ask. She laughs and takes my hand.

  “Only as exhausting as keeping up with your train of thought sometimes.”

  “What made you decide to come?” I had wanted Lisa to come with our group, even if she wasn’t ready to be my date. She said she’d think about it but never gave me an answer, and I didn’t expect her to show at all.

  “Some girl,” she says. “She’s not so bad.” I look down, suddenly shy, and realize we’re still holding hands.

  There’s a shriek over at the snack table. The cool kids have arrived. Ashley is covering her mouth with her hands. She stares at Tess. They’re both wearing the same dress. The dress Saskia picked out for Tess. Ashley looks like she’s about to murder someone, and Tess takes cover behind Greg. Saskia walks up to Ashley.

  “Oh dear! How embarrassing for you, Ashley.” Saskia smirks and Ashley runs out of the gym, crying hysterically. So that’s why Saskia wanted to go dress shopping with us. Robert stands behind Saskia, his eyes lidded and a hand on the small of her back, drunk and wobbling.

  Saskia looks around the dance floor. When she sees me, she shrugs Robert off and makes her way over. Saskia looks at me, then at my hand in Lisa’s. Her nostrils flare, and she has the sinister glint of a James Bond villainess in her eye.

  “Hi, ladies. Lovely party, no?”

  Lisa and I don’t respond.

  “Aw, that’s sweet, Leila. A Muslim and a Jew. You guys should be on a poster for the United Nations.”

  I let go of Lisa’s hand and face Saskia the way I should have weeks ago.

  “Why don’t you go take care of Robert?” I say. “He looks like hell.”

  “He’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Do you think it’s really going to work with her? All she does is brood and smoke! She’s hardly a conversationalist. Unless she’s talking about her dead brother.” I lunge at Saskia, shoving her back. The DJ has stopped the music and all eyes are on us. I feel Ms. Taylor put her hand on my shoulder. Saskia just laughs.

  Mr. Harris is talking to Robert and clearly finds out that Robert is severely under the influence when he throws up all over Mr. Harris’s shoes. I would enjoy the scene, if I weren’t in the middle of a catfight.

  “So you finally show some anger,” says Saskia with a sneer. “It’s about time. What are you going to do? Nuke me?”

  “Girls! That’s enough!” says Ms. Taylor.

  “I’ll say when it’s enough,” Saskia says. She leans into me, grabs my face with both hands, and plants a giant, wet kiss on my mouth. I struggle to get away, but she’s holding me tight. When she lets me go, I fall backward a little and Lisa catches me. “Now you finally get what you wanted! You’ve been harassing me to kiss you for months, you predatory lesbian.” Saskia throws her hands wide, laying it on thick for her audience. “There! Now everyone knows what you are!” It works. Everyone at the dance is entranced by the spectacle. The jig is up. My nightmare has come to life. I can only stand there, breathing heavily.

  Greg and Tess are watching, mouths open. Tomas has his eyebrows raised and is clearly enjoying the intrigue. He probably wishes he were taking notes on the delivery and timing. Taryn, Christina, and Simone signal me with punching motions, suggesting that I beat Saskia up. I’m frozen and don’t know what to do, until Lisa takes my hand in hers.

  Standing by my side, she looks into my eyes. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. “Are you ready?” Lisa whispers. I think about all the worry, all the fear, all the anxiety over something that I can’t help, that’s beyond my control. I’m so very, very tired.

  I nod.

  Lisa kisses my temple and I hear a collective gasp.

  “Yeah. Now they all know,” I say. “Thanks.” Lisa and I walk out of the gym to the thunder of hollers and applause.

  Once we are in the hall, I feel like collapsing. Lisa rubs my back. I can’t believe I’m out. What if Dad finds out? What if he kicks me out? What if I lose my friends?

  “Lisa, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to . . . You can go back in. Tell everyone it’s a misunderstanding.”

  Lisa just looks at me, but her eyes are filled with tenderness and patience. Once I start rambling I can’t stop. “I just mean, you’re important and beautiful and you don’t have to feel like you have to—” I can’t get anything else out because Lisa pushes her lips to mine.

  The brave thing to do would have been to go back to school on Monday and face everyone after the dance, but honestly, I’m enjoying daytime TV too much. I’ve noticed that some of the women on General Hospital are superhot. I wouldn’t mind being sick at their hospital, and my life is kind of a soap opera these days anyway—I might as well get pointers on how to get through it. So I’ve been faking sick for three days. I decided on a stomachache as my illness, since it’s doesn’t require a fever. Dad has been inspecting me, but they don’t know I’ve been going to WebMD to make sure my symptoms remain accurate.

  Lisa has called my cell phone a few times, but I can’t talk to her.

  The only one not buying my illness is my mom. She’s been attentive, but not so much to my physical ailments. Instead she keeps asking me if there’s anything I want to talk about, but I shrug and say everything is fine—even though I’ve been in the same sweatpants and T-shirt since Monday. I haven’t slept much, and my hair looks like the bride of Frankenstein’s. Not symptoms of a stomachache. Also not the best time for anyone to come visit me, but Lisa does anyway.

  “Leila, Lisa is here to see you” is all the warning I get. Lisa looks great, as always, and I keep wondering what the hell she would want with someone like me.

  “I heard you were sick,” she says with just a hint of an eye roll.

  “Yeah. I’m not feeling so great,” I mumble.

  “I’ll go get you girls some tea,” Mom says, picking up on the tension between us, and heads to the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Lisa asks.

  “Watching General Hospital. You know, it’s really not as bad as I thought it would be. There are a lot of plot intricacies, nuanced performances.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Lei.” Lisa puts a folder full of homework on my bedside table. I nod in appreciation.

  “I was feeling like we were going to do this thing together?” she says.

  This thing. This relationsh
ip? Are we going to sign our parents up at PFLAG and wear matching T-shirts that say: I’M NOT A LESBIAN BUT MY GIRLFRIEND IS? We haven’t even had time to figure “this thing” out. When Lisa dropped me off at home after the dance, we looked at each other like dewy-eyed baby seals. But we can’t do that at school without some jerk smirking, thinking of us making out, I’m sure.

  “I want to. It’s going to be hard, though. My dad still doesn’t know.” Lisa sits down at the edge of my bed, far enough away that Mom won’t think something “funny” has been going on when she gets back.

  “I don’t get why you’d want to do this,” I continue. “I mean, you have everything. You could just date some guy, maybe Robert or someone in his group.”

  “He’s suspended for drinking on school grounds. Plus, I’d probably have to drive him everywhere once he gets that inevitable DUI.”

  “Is Saskia still at school?” I ask.

  “Why do you care about her?” Lisa says angrily.

  “I don’t care about her. She just . . . she—”

  “Scares you.”

  “You don’t get it,” I say.

  “I get that you’re scared. You’re scared of everything.”

  “I am not!”

  Okay, maybe I am, but maybe I have reason to be. What if my dad finds out and kicks me out of the house? What if he cuts me off financially? I’ll be homeless, and who is going to take me in then? Ms. Taylor? She’ll probably bore me with stories of her dates, and then tell me her apartment is getting too crowded, what with the appearance of her new man candy. Then I’ll be on the street, selling balloon animals in Harvard Square, only I don’t know how to make balloon animals, so they’ll all be snakes or worms. The children I sell them to will be disappointed, the parents of those children will want their money back, and all the other street performers will laugh at me. Everyone will laugh at me.

  What scares me the most, though, is the possibility that Lisa will figure out that I’m not good enough, and she’ll leave me. And I’ll have to do it alone. I don’t think I could manage it.

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” Lisa says. “Saskia is suspended, and she might be expelled. And even if Saskia does rear her ugly head on campus, Ashley already has her sights on her for that dress thing. And your friends, if they really are your friends, won’t care.”

  “How are people treating you?” I ask. I’m worried about Lisa, but I also want to know what to expect.

  “I’m used to being talked about, Lei. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t really care about other people. I’ve only ever cared about you . . . and that scared me for a long time.” She reaches across the bed and takes my hand. “If I can get over my fear, why can’t you?”

  I didn’t think Lisa was afraid of anything. Even before her brother died, she was always quiet, but she took things head-on.

  “I kind of can’t believe you like me,” I say. “I mean, I fart at inappropriate times, I never know what to do with my hair, I’m awkward . . . I just don’t get it.”

  Lisa looks at our hands joined together. “You’re also beautiful and kind, and you know me better than anyone else. Plus, everyone farts.” Lisa gazes into my eyes. Swoon. “You need to stop questioning this. If you’re not into me, just tell me.”

  “Of course I’m—I mean, I’d have to be crazy not to like you.”

  “And you think I’d have to be crazy to like you? That’s kind of messed up, Lei. Where did your confidence go?”

  I don’t know. Lisa and I just stare at each other for a while, her hand still holding mine. That’s when mom comes in with a tray of tea and chickpea sugar cookies. Lisa moves her hand away, but my mom catches it, and her eyes widen a little bit. I wait for her to kick Lisa out or start praying in the middle of the room, but instead she invites Lisa to stay for dinner. My mom is full of the best kind of surprises.

  When Dad gets home, he’s actually really excited to have Lisa over for dinner. He loves company. It gives him an opportunity to show off. He makes jokes and tells stories that the family has heard a billion times, but with guests it’s usually only their fortieth. The stories and jokes are never all that funny, but the guests laugh right along with Dad. Tonight he reminisces about Lisa and me in elementary school, when we would complain and make fun of teachers we both kind of hated. Lisa is handling it all like a pro, while I’m just sweating, wondering if Dad is going to figure out that Lisa and I are Lady Gaga for each other. But he doesn’t. He shovels down basmati rice and eggplant stew, which my mom whipped up on short notice, having remembered it’s Lisa’s favorite.

  Mom kind of sneaks sideways glances at us throughout the meal. I can’t really read her expression, but I guess she’s still trying to get her head around this whole “my daughter is gay” thing. And now this “my daughter has a girlfriend” thing. Of course, Dad eventually has to kill the whole evening by bringing up college.

  “So, Lisa, where do you want to go to school?” Dad asks. He’s been asking me this since I was in fourth grade.

  “I’m not sure. A Dartmouth scout talked to me last soccer season.”

  “Dartmouth! That’s a good school! Leila should apply there.”

  I know Dad didn’t go to college in this country, but even someone from Mars should know I don’t have the grades to get into Dartmouth.

  Dad goes on asking questions about Lisa’s university prospects.

  “So you’re going to play football in college?”

  He means soccer, but Lisa catches on.

  “No. I probably won’t have time. I want to be pre-med so—”

  Dad slams his hand on the table, interrupting her, and smiles broadly.

  “You see, Leila! One of your friends has sense! Lisa, can you please convince my daughter to follow in your footsteps?”

  “I’m trying my best.” Lisa grins, and I feel like kicking her under the table. Mom gulps more water than I have ever seen her drink in one go. “Actually, Leila’s a really good director. The kids in her play adore her. I’m sure they’ve really missed her this week.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom smile.

  “Well, I’m sure Leila is feeling a lot better by now,” Mom says in a tone that clearly means: You’re going to school tomorrow, kiddo. “Right, Leila?”

  “If Leila feels up to it, would it be okay if I drive her to school?” Lisa asks.

  I look down at my lap, afraid of the answer.

  “I think that’s a fine idea.” Mom says, and I lift my head in time to see her smile warmly at Lisa. Mom then looks over at me, and I see all the love she’s ever had for me and ever will in her eyes.

  Maybe everything won’t be so bad.

  Maybe.

  When it’s time for Lisa to leave, I walk her to the door and she kisses me on the cheek. If my parents happened to see, they wouldn’t really think it was weird, since we always kiss fellow Persians on the cheek when we say hello or good-bye. Lisa can be an honorary Persian, especially since she wants to be a doctor.

  After Lisa leaves, Mom is waiting for me in my room. I finally tell her what happened at the dance, and that Dad should probably know I’m gay, because I don’t want him to find out from someone else. She wipes a tear away before telling me she’ll try to find the right time to tell him.

  Thirty

  The ride to school the next day makes me anxious, but Lisa holds my hand the whole way, even when merging onto the highway, which is pretty impressive. She put on a mix of songs we used to listen to when we were younger. “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid comes on, and I yell, “Oh my God, you loved that movie!”

  Both of us start singing along, each trying to outdo the other. Lisa has a decent singing voice, of course, because she’s so perfect. I, on the other hand, squawk like that wisecracking seagull in the movie.

  Lisa grabs my hand tighter. “I guess I was a little gay from the beginning. I had a huge crush on Ariel.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “We watched that movie, li
ke, three times a day that one summer.”

  “Yeah, but I thought it was because of the story. She wanted legs, couldn’t be with her love, that sort of thing. Plus, the sidekicks were funny.”

  “Well, I didn’t really know I had a crush on Ariel. I just thought she was pretty. I thought the prince was pretty, too.”

  “So you’re bi?”

  “Can’t some things just be? I’m a Leilabian for all I know.” We pull into the school lot, and Lisa puts the car in park and turns to me, taking my other hand. “If anyone says anything to you today, just ignore them,” she begins. “Or come find me. Some people are douche bags. But some people can be really great. Just focus on the really great ones, okay?”

  I can’t help but smile. “You’re very cute, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Lisa says, waving me off, but a little blush creeps up those pale cheeks of hers.

  As Lisa and I walk into the school together, we’re met with a lot of glances. There are boys grinning in our direction, giving us the thumbs-up in a perverted kind of way, and there are some younger kids that giggle and snicker. But when Ashley approaches us and gives them a sneer, they all flee.

  “Hi, ladies. Did you screw before you got here?” she asks. At first I’m a little scared, but Lisa laughs.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lisa says, and Ashley grins back.

  “Yuck. TMI. Listen, Leila, if you’re going to hang out with us on occasion, we need to get you a sexier look. We can talk about it at lunch.” Wow. She’s even bitchy when she’s trying to be nice.

  In first period I sit next to Tess, who smiles and offers to give me her notes for the classes I’ve missed.

  So that’s why you’ve been so weird, Tess writes on her notebook and, as stealthily as she can, slides it in my line of vision.

  Sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t really planning on letting you know like that. I write back in my own notebook, edging it toward her and studying her face as she reads. She bites her lower lip, and I guess she’s trying to think of the right thing to say. At least she’s still talking to me. Or writing to me, anyway.