Dormitory Dearest: A Sweet Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try.”

  “If you’re looking for some sound advice, I think I can provide that,” she said. “And that advice is: be kind, be honest, and be accepting of other peoples’ shortcomings,” Sacco said with authority. “Not everybody is ready for the truth. We’ve made a lot of progress, but it’s just as true in your time as it was in mine.”

  “Thank you, Professor,” I said, beginning to feel more confident in myself. “I appreciate your help.”

  “Hosannah should be back in about an hour,” said Sacco. “I don’t think she’ll mind me saying, she’s also a lesbian.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Sacco, laughing along with me. “I guess you just told me that Hosannah knows about you and it would stand to reason that you know about her.” She shook her head and lightly smacked herself on the forehead. “I’m sorry, dear, just one of those things about getting older.”

  “Thanks Professor Sacco,” I said, standing up from the chair. “I’ll talk to Hosannah later.”

  “You’re welcome, Natasha,” she said. “You can always come talk to us in the ALOHA office if you ever have issues.” Sacco smiled pleasantly at me and offered me a goodbye wave. I was happy that I had gotten a chance to speak with her alone. Even though our conversation was short, it really gave me a renewed sense of purpose. If Professor Sacco could come out to her family as a lesbian however long ago, thirty or forty years ago, I could surely do it today. The fear was real but the truth was necessary.

  *

  The next morning I got up early and made sure I was ready for my mother’s visit. It was almost like I was getting up for an early class. But it being Saturday, the communal showers were empty when I went in, there were only a handful of students in the cafeteria, and I didn’t see anybody else in the lobby. I might have normally been cautious about disturbing Whitney by getting up so early, but she had texted me the night before to let me know she was staying out late with Justin. It appeared things were coming together for the two of them.

  In order to quell my nervousness, I straightened up my dorm room and went a little overboard with my meticulousness. I really couldn’t help it. As I cleaned, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror attached to the closet and it gave me pause. Something about me looked different but I couldn’t quite place it. Standing there in front of the mirror I considered myself. Hosannah was right. I was cute. I really liked my nose. I’d always liked my nose when I was younger. I’d look in the mirror in my bathroom and stare down at my nose, thinking “that’s a cute nose.” I hadn’t done that in a really long time.

  Fluffing up my hair, I smiled at myself. I turned to one side and posed. Then to the other, looking at my butt in the mirror. I had a rounder butt than a lot of girls I knew, a bit thicker even though I was relatively slim. I liked that part of me too. I liked my ass. As I continued looking over my features in the mirror, I came to the conclusion that hey, I was all right.

  I took a deep breath and looked myself in the eyes. It just all of a sudden came to me and I wasn’t embarrassed. I spoke up to myself, just as I had done before my audition, just as Whitney had shown me.

  “You’re fucking incredible,” I began. “You’re so fucking awesome,” I said, feeling a tear come to my eye. “You’re smart and you’re pretty and people like you. You know your lines, you know exactly what you need to say, and you’re going to say it with truth and passion and heart,” I said, feeling my pulse quicken as I spoke. “Nobody can take it away from you, nobody can tell you how to live your life or what’s right for you. You’re a good person, you’re loved, you’re supported, and there’s nothing to fear any longer. You are special.”

  I stepped away from the mirror, keeping my eyes on myself, when I suddenly heard a fast knock at my door. I jumped up and made a sound from the surprise.

  With steadied breaths, I sauntered to the door and pulled it open. There stood Hosannah grinning at me. She was still dressed in her lounging morning wear. An oversized hoodie, sweatpants, her hair lazily tied up in a bun. She looked so sweet to me, so pretty, so perfect. I melted as I saw her.

  “Are you ready?” she asked, stepping inside my room. I closed the door behind her.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. “This is the time.”

  “You’re going to do great,” she said adoringly, moving closer to me. Hosannah slipped a hand up to my face and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. Her taste, the moistness of her lips, her coffee fragrance, I felt it all linger. My knees felt like they could buckle. I was really in it deep with Hosannah. She made me want to be a stronger person. She made me want to keep trying.

  “Thank you,” I said, looking down and grinning. Hosannah ran her fingers through my hair lovingly, straightening it, primping it.

  “I think you’re going to find that once you vocalize all this to your mother,” said Hosannah knowingly. “You’re going to see that everything’s going to be okay.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said.

  “Dude,” she said. “I’m totally right. Take a deep breath, realize that this woman birthed you and you can’t cause her any more pain than that.” We laughed together at her joke.

  “I know you’re joking,” I said. “But it still makes my wonder if, you know, maybe I can.”

  “Stop,” she said. Hosannah moved her hand down to my butt and then slid it into the back pocket of my jeans, pulling me closer. She kissed me again. “You’re amazing, Natasha. You’re going to do great. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, a revitalized sense of confidence brimming up inside of me.

  “I heard you talked to Sacco,” she said, as though she were breaking some gossip to me.

  “I did,” I said.

  “And did she have some good advice?”

  “She did,” I said with a sanguine smirk. Hosannah smacked me on the butt and scoffed.

  “You just live up there,” she said, pointing at my head and feigning annoyance. I loved her fake little jerky attitude. It was really endearing. I knew she wasn’t upset with me, she just liked playing this little romantic game of back and forth. It was becoming our thing. I really liked having a thing with someone, an inside joke, a connection of banter. It was like I was in a real relationship for the first time ever.

  “My mother’s going to be here soon,” I said.

  “So I should make myself scarce,” Hosannah said sarcastically. “Maybe I should just make like a tree and leave.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But, you know, a better joke than that.”

  “You’re asking for it,” she said. Hosannah pushed herself against me and we kissed ardently, strongly, earnestly. Even though it hadn’t really been that long that Hosannah and I knew each other, I could honestly say in that moment that she was my best friend. I was so in love with her.

  After another moment of tender kissing, Hosannah pulled back and turned for the door. She pulled it open halfway and then looked back, sincerity on her face.

  “I believe in you,” she said in a sober sternness. The two of us were locked looking at each other for a moment until Hosannah finally broke, blew me a kiss, and left my room, closing the door behind her. I sighed joyfully, feeling loved.

  I never would have thought, when I left for college, that I would have experienced anything like this. I knew, deep down, that something inside of me was going to burst but I was never certain how it would come out. But there I was, feeling the lovey aftereffects of a tender moment with my girlfriend, building myself up for confronting my Catholic mother about my sexuality, and wondering how I got so lucky. No matter what the outcome of my lunch today, I knew that I would be all right. I knew that life was going to keep moving and I was going to keep living.

  I looked at myself once more in the mirror and I looked so happy. I couldn’t believe that it was me staring back. My eyes gleamed, my pink lips curled up, and my cute little nose. I felt like I could take on the world. There was noth
ing that could stop me but my own fear and that fear was on its way out. It was beginning to feel like less of a defining part of my personality and more like an obstacle in my way. But the obstacle is the way, I was finding. The meaning came from seeing all this stuff clearly, from addressing your troubles and running at them head on. All the avoidance I’d been guilty of in the past just made me more fearful. In this world, you have to be brave. And brave is what Natasha Blake would be.

  My phone buzzed on my desk and I walked over to it. It was a text from my mother. She was outside in the parking lot and she needed some help with my things. I smiled as I looked down into that text, the fear dissipating, my eyes wide with the possibility of what the future might hold for me. I knew that this was my time to be me. And it felt wonderful.

  *

  I sat across from my mother at the table in the Mexican restaurant, both of us holding up a large laminated menu. While I was eager to finally open up to her, I didn’t want to do it at the dorm. I wanted to get out of my personal space and get somewhere a bit more public. It just felt a little safer in a way. A bit more anonymous. I really wasn’t sure how I would segue into the conversation, so I just tried to keep an open mind and an open heart and see where it all lead.

  My mother was a very sweet and well-meaning lady, smart and opinionated, though a bit close-minded in a way because of her intellect. As an English professor herself and a published writer, she was sort of used to being right all the time and that could prove difficult when having a real conversation with her. Behind that feeling of correctness, I imagine there was a bit of guilt she was trying to obscure. I say that because I was the same way. I was certainly my mother’s daughter.

  “I can’t believe it’s been almost two months,” mused my mother, folding her menu and setting it down, smiling across the table at me. “It’s sure quiet around the house.”

  “Really?” I said with sarcasm. “I’m not a very noisy person.”

  “True,” she said. “It’s just… quiet without you around, walking through the kitchen, sitting with us in the living room. Are you liking being up here at school?” My mother grinned. “It’s probably nice to have a bit of freedom.”

  “Definitely,” I said, looking down into my menu but not really reading the words. “I’ve really learned a lot about myself.”

  “That’s a great thing about college,” she said. “Finding yourself.”

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  “Have you done anything exciting?” she asked. “You told me about your trip to Stratford over the phone. Have you expanded yourself in any other way?”

  “I auditioned for a play,” I said shyly, setting my menu to the side. “I had to do a monologue and sing a song.”

  “Very brave of you,” said my mother. “That definitely sounds like something out of your comfort zone.”

  “I didn’t get the part” I said. “But just auditioning was exciting and new.”

  “That’s great, dear,” she said, looking off, holding her hand up to get the waitress over.

  “I’ve made a lot of friends,” I said offhandedly. “There are a lot of cool people in ALOHA.”

  “Good afternoon,” said our waitress, a college student not much order than me, as she slipped up next to our table. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I’ll have a taco salad with chicken,” said my mother. She looked over to me to let me know that it was my turn.

  “Taco plate,” I said. “With avocado tacos.”

  “Thank you, ladies,” said the waitress, pulling our menus from the table with a smile. “I’ll put those orders in for you right away.” She left us just as quickly as she’d arrived.

  “What were you saying?” asked my mother. “Friends?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve made a lot of friends.” I was starting to feel like I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t come out to my mother. The juices of anxiety were coursing through me and it just didn’t feel like the appropriate time.

  “Have you met any boys?” she said with a lilt in her voice. It was simply becoming too much to bear. My brain started firing off, thinking about all the different possibilities, thinking about how I’d explain myself, its focus primarily on how upset my mother would be.

  “I—,” I began, pausing, looking away, feeling pain.

  “Natasha?” asked my mother with concern. “Are you all right?”

  Why did this have to be so hard? Hosannah made it all seem so easy. I didn’t want to feel this guilt, this pressure, this feeling of letting down my mother. It made me feel like a bad daughter even though I knew that just wasn’t the case. I was just me. I could be no one else. There was nothing wrong with being a lesbian, it was perfectly fine and natural and it was just how God made me. But sitting there in front of my mother, with the utterance on the tip of my tongue, it felt like an impossible obstacle to overcome. It felt like pain.

  “I—,” I said again, stammering, focusing on my breath. “I have something to tell you, mother,” I said finally.

  “Okay,” she said cautiously, bracing herself in the booth. “I’m listening.”

  “It’s just that…” I began, scouring my brain for the appropriate way to put it all. My mother had a flair for the well-composed, both in writing and in speech, so it had become second nature to our family to address things like they were a scene in a novel rather than just plainly speak. “I have found a lot of freedom here at college,” I continued. “It’s been very eye opening for me.”

  “That’s terrific, dear,” said my mother, still concerned, still following me.

  “And I’ve realized some stuff about myself that I’ve been hiding from for a long time,” I said. “Something I’ve known to be true but found it difficult to accept.”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding slowly.

  “Mother,” I said, taking a deep breath, my eyes shifting upwards and looking into hers. I could tell she wasn’t really sure what I was going to say. She looked scared, uncertain, unable to know what to anticipate. “I’m a lesbian,” I said, the words causing me an instant release of pressure. Like, as soon as they were out in the open a whole bunch of pent of aggression from within suddenly deflated. It all became easier as soon as I spoke those words. My heart lightened. “I’ve known for a number of years,” I went on. “And only now can I finally admit it.”

  “Natasha,” she said carefully. “I— are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “I’ve known for a long time.”

  My mother went to say something but stopped herself. She looked away and then looked back. I could tell she was confused, like this was incomprehensible to her. For the first time ever, it appeared as though my mother was speechless.

  “Maybe,” she said after deliberating for a moment. “Maybe you could talk to Father Shaughnessy. I’m sure he could provide some guidance for you in this tough time.”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head with sadness. “I don’t think he could.”

  “I have to say, Natasha,” she said wistfully. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an inkling that you were… different.” My mother sighed. It was settling in and she was beginning to exercise reason.

  “Really?” I said. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve noticed things,” she said. “I’m very perceptive. You’re quite the tomboy when it comes down to it, introverted, in your own little world.”

  “I think I had to turn inward to deal with these feelings,” I said. “I never felt like I could say them out loud.”

  “I’m… sorry,” said my mother, looking down. “I know that I’m at fault for that.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “This is very hard,” she said. “I don’t know what else to say but that. It’s hard.”

  “It’s even harder for me,” I said.

  It was hard to admit to myself and it was hard to say, but I felt so liberated as I sat there in the hard booth of the Mexican restaurant. The world didn’t implode. My mother didn’t cry and wail and be
at at her chest. She looked sullen, which I could understand. It was an unexpected blow to her reality. She had probably expected a lot of things out of me up until that point. A husband and kids, “normal” life, a predictable existence. But this went against the script. This made it hard to rely on autopilot. This was what living was really about. The tough times, the uncertain times. Life could be hard.

  “Just give me time, okay?” said my mother, reaching her hand across the table. I followed her lead and put my hand on top of hers.

  “Okay,” I said. “I appreciate you taking this so well. I know it’s difficult.”

  “It certainly is,” she said wanly. “But… you’re my daughter and I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I said.

  “When did you know?” she asked in a meek tone after a moment of silence. I could see the gears in her head working, like she was trying to piece everything together.

  “I really felt it for certain,” I said. “Probably when I was 13 or so. It was difficult to deny. But here at college, not having to hide it, has very much reenforced that the feelings I’ve felt for a long time are true.”

  “All right,” she said. Just then our waitress returned to the table with our plates of food. She smiled wide as she pushed the plates down in front of us. I don’t think she noticed the somberness in either my or my mother’s faces. Rather, she was just intent on doing her job in the most automatic manner.

  “Here we go,” said our waitress. “How does everything look?” she said, looking back and forth between us.

  “This is great,” I said, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Perfect,” said our waitress. “Just give me a shout if you need anything else. Hot sauce is there on the table,” she said, pointing to the innermost part of the booth table.

  My mother and I sighed together after the waitress went on her way. I looked down to my plate. I wasn’t all that hungry anymore. It was exhausting letting out all that emotion. I felt like I could use a nap. Looking across the table at my mother, she didn’t seem like she was in the mood to eat anymore either.