Bright Purple: Color Me Confused with Bonus Content

by Carlson, Melody

  “So, what did your parents think about you taking me out?” I ask him as we walk toward my house. I’ve actually been wanting to ask him this question ever since the geezer gave us the eye at the theater, but up until now I just couldn’t get up the nerve.

  “They both like you, Ramie. They were totally cool with me asking you out.”

  I let out a little sigh of relief as we go up the stairs to the front door that opens onto the second floor. “Cool.”

  “So . . .” He reaches for my other hand now. “Can I kiss you good night? Or are you one of those girls who doesn’t kiss on the first date?”

  I consider this. I mean, on the one hand, I don’t want to seem too easy. On the other, I don’t want him to think I don’t like him. And I really want to have another date with him.

  “I guess one little kiss would be okay,” I tell him. But even as I say this, I am starting to feel nervous. I mean I’ve only been kissed twice before. And the first time was at this totally lame middle-school party, where everyone was kissing pretty much everyone, and it probably shouldn’t even count. The second time was that unfortunate first date that I keep trying to forget. But consequently, I’m not too sure that I’m a very good kisser. And besides that, I haven’t even had a breath mint or anything.

  But Mitch leans forward and I close my eyes and hold my breath and to my relief, it goes fairly smoothly. In fact, it goes rather nicely, and I’m thinking that maybe Mitch is more experienced at this than I am.

  “Thanks for a fun night,” I say, surprised at how breathless my voice sounds. But maybe it’s the cold November air.

  “Thank you!” He grins at me like he’s really happy. “I had fun too. Let’s do it again sometime.”

  “Cool!” Then I turn and go into the house. I’ve barely closed and locked the front door before I fish my cell phone out of my purse and start to push Jess’s speed-dial number. But then I stop. I can’t believe it! I was about to call Jess! What was I thinking? Of course, it’s understandable that my first impulse after an incredible night like this would be to call my best friend. She’s always the one I call when something big happens. And this is huge! But then I tell myself, everything’s changed. Like that was then and this is now, and Jessica LeCroix is no longer my best friend. Like a slap in the face or a firm shake, I firmly remind myself that Jess is a lesbian.

  But as I slowly walk up the stairs to my room, I feel this hard lump growing in my throat. And for the first time since she told me her shocking “news” I am beginning to feel sad. Really, really sad. I feel like I’m grieving over the death of a loved one. Like I’ve just heard that my old best friend, the one I should be talking to right now, was suddenly killed in an explosion.

  “Is that you, Ramie?” Mom calls from her bedroom downstairs.

  “Yeah, Mom,” I call back. “I’m home.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  “Yeah, it was great. Night, Mom.”

  “Good night, Ramie.”

  Then I go into my room and I shut the door and I cry.

  six

  FORTUNATELY FOR ME, MY MOM DOESN’T HAVE ANY EARLY COUNSELING appointments Monday morning, and I am able to bum a ride to school from her. It hadn’t even occurred to me yesterday that losing my best friend also meant losing my ride to school.

  “Sorry I can’t pick you up after practice,” Mom tells me as she backs out of the garage. “I have a group therapy session that won’t finish until eight.”

  I let out a groan. “Guess I get to ride home on the delightful activities bus.”

  “Oh, Ramie.” Mom just shakes her head. “You’re going to have to get over your homophobia, you know.”

  “Homophobia?” I shoot back at her. “That’s totally nuts, Mom. It’s not like I’m afraid of Jess, you know. I just don’t happen to agree with her choice to sin like this. And I don’t want to be around her. That is not homophobia!”

  She makes a little noise that sounds kind of like tsk tsk, but I pretend to ignore her. Instead I hit her with my old begging routine, telling her again just how badly I really need a car.

  “All my friends have cars,” I say as we get closer to school.

  “Then ask all your friends for rides.”

  “Mom,” I plead. “If I had my own car, I could help you more. I know how tired you are after work. I could do things like get groceries or pick up your dry cleaning or run errands or anything.”

  “I’ve already told you that our budget is tight, Ramie. If you really want a car, you’ll have to get a job and help out with it.”

  “But I have sports.”

  “I know. And I think that’s great, honey. It’s just that we all have to make our choices. Personally, I think participating in sports is the right choice for you.” She turns and smiles at me. “You’re so good at them.”

  “So, because I’m good at them, I don’t get a car,” I complain. “Great little payoff.”

  “Having a car would mean car payments, insurance payments, gas money, repair costs . . .” She shakes her head. “Look, Ramie, if money was no object, I’d love to give you a car. I’d do it in a heartbeat. But right now we can’t afford it.”

  We’re almost at school now, and I can tell I’ve lost this argument. Big surprise there. But I decide to pout just a little longer. No harm in letting her feel my pain, as she likes to put it.

  “Cheer up,” she tells me. “And maybe not having a car will help you to get over this thing with Jess a little faster. Who knows? Maybe by the end of the day she’ll be giving you a ride home and everything will be back to normal.”

  “And maybe she’ll kiss me good-bye after she drops me off,” I say as Mom pulls up to the curb. “And maybe she’ll ask me to be her date for the Winter Dance, and maybe we’ll get married and I’ll have artificial insemination and you can have lots of gay grandkids at Christmastime!”

  “Oh, Ramie!” She looks exasperated now.

  But I just give her an innocent look. “Does that bother you, Mom? I figured the idea of Jess and me living happily ever after was just what you wanted.”

  “Have a good day, dear.”

  “Yeah, right!” Then I close the door just a little too firmly as I can see the frown across her brow, and I wonder why I’m treating her like this. It’s not like this is her fault. And, more disturbing than that, I know that God would not be pleased by my little hissy fit or my disrespectful attitude. So I say a quick “I’m sorry” prayer as I slowly walk toward the school. What is wrong with me?

  As I walk through the doors and security, I am filled with apprehension. I mean who knows what lies ahead today? It’s quite possible that Jess has told others by now. Everyone in the school might be whispering about her, laughing behind her back or maybe to her face. And they could be laughing at me too. Oh, I so do not want to see her today!

  Of course, I realize this is unlikely since we have three classes together. And then there’s basketball practice after school. Maybe I should’ve been sick today. But, no, I tell myself as I walk toward the locker bay. That might’ve put me at a disadvantage in this little game. As I get closer to our row of lockers it occurs to me that it’s not only my locker, it is also Jess’s. It’s like I almost forgot that we share a locker! Dear God, please help me.

  I’m tempted to skip going to my locker altogether, but I really need to get my geometry book. And so when I come to the row where our locker is located, feeling like a foreign spy, I “accidentally” drop a pencil. I bend down to pick it up, glance down the row and see, to my relief, Jess is not there. Then I hurry to my locker and after blowing the combination twice, which I never do, I finally get the stupid thing open, retrieve the geometry book as well as my French book, which I really don’t need until after lunch, and I shove them both into my backpack. I make a mental note to stop by the counseling center and demand that I get a different locker. Even if I have to explain the circumstances. Surely, they would understand.

  By fourth period, it has become obvious that Jes
s is just as uncomfortable seeing me as I am seeing her. It’s like we’ve signed a mutual avoidance pact, which suits me just fine. Still, I can tell that others are noticing. I mean it’s not like Jess and I have a ton of friends. But we do have some. Mostly from church and sports and just life, I guess. By lunchtime, some of them are starting to ask questions. And, to my relief, Jess is making herself pretty scarce.

  “You guys didn’t get into a fight, did you?” says BJ in a slightly accusing tone.

  “Huh?” I try out my innocent routine as I struggle to tear open a packet of dressing and then slowly squeeze it onto my chef’s salad.

  “Remember?” she persists. “I asked on Saturday night if you guys were having a fight, and you said no.”

  “We’re not having a fight.”

  “Then why is Jess acting so weird?” asks Amy Temple. Amy, like Jess, is really into softball. They play both spring and summer leagues. And usually Amy and Jess get along great, although I’m not sure what Amy will think when she finds out about this. Amy already has a tough time with the women’s softball coach, since she’s pretty sure that Coach Reeves is gay, although no one knows this for sure. Still, we all agree that the woman is pretty butch both in appearance and behavior, and we all try to keep a safe distance from her. At least I thought we did. Now I’m not so sure about Jess.

  “Yeah, Ramie,” says BJ. “Why is she acting so weird?”

  “Don’t ask me,” I say as I stab my fork into a piece of hardboiled egg.

  “Well, you can’t ask Jess,” says Amy. “She’s not talking to anybody.”

  I peer at Amy. “Really? She’s not talking to you either?”

  “She’s not talking to anyone,” says BJ.

  I glance over at Lauren, another sports friend. “How about you?”

  “Nope.”

  “What do you mean exactly?” I question them. “Are you saying that you can say something to Jess and that she completely ignores you?”

  “Not exactly,” admits Amy. “It’s more like she just blows you off.”

  “Yeah, she just gives a snippy answer, then looks away like she’s too busy, like she doesn’t have time for you.”

  “Like she hates us all.”

  “Did we do something to offend her?” asks Lauren.

  I roll my eyes and let out a big sigh.

  “You do know something, don’t you, Ramie?” Amy points her unopened straw at me.

  “She does,” confirms BJ. “She admitted as much to me on Saturday night. But you also said that Jess would tell me herself, Ramie. But she hasn’t. So what’s up with that?”

  “Yeah, Ramie, spill the beans,” says Lauren.

  “Come on,” urges Amy. “If Jess is having some kind of problem, you should tell us. We’re her friends. Maybe we can help her.”

  Now I’m not sure what to do. I remember what Mom told me, how Jess really needs her friends right now. And it does occur to me that telling these guys could take some of the pressure off me. Kind of like they’d suddenly be involved in this sticky dilemma too. On the other hand, it might really hurt Jess if I let this out. And, as mad as I am at her, I guess I’m starting to feel a tiny bit sorry for her too. I mean, how can she be so set on ruining her life? Who does that?

  “It’s complicated,” I tell my friends. “And I really think you should hear it from her. Okay?”

  Lauren’s eyes light up now. “I know!” She says, pointing her spoon into the air. “I know what it is!” Then she gets this slightly appalled look on her face and sets her spoon back into her bowl of half-eaten chili with a dull clunk.

  “What?” demands BJ. “What is it, Lauren?”

  “Nothing.” Lauren doesn’t look up. And I think maybe she really does know. But how? How could she have figured this out? Or is it possible that she’s involved too? The mere idea of this is so disturbing that I want to shove it away from me. How messed up would it be if Jess wasn’t the only one? I study Lauren for a moment and realize that she does have kind of a strong masculine side. Not that it means she’s gay. But I suppose it means she could be.

  “Come on,” Amy pleads with her. “You gotta tell us now, Lauren. you can’t say you know and then keep it to yourself. Out with it!”

  Lauren just slowly shakes her head. She keeps staring down at her soup, looking like she really is about to be sick.

  “Lauren,” I say to her in an urgent tone, and she looks up at me with worried eyes. “Do you really know?”

  “Not really.”

  “Come here.” I stand and pull on her arm. “Come tell me what you think without anyone else listening.”

  “Oh, man,” says BJ. “Talk about middle school.”

  “Yeah,” chimes in Amy, “like a déjà vu all over again.”

  But I ignore them as I practically drag Lauren off to a quiet corner of the cafeteria. “Tell me what it is that you think you know, Lauren,” I command her.

  I can see her swallow hard, and I know she doesn’t want to say the words out loud. Who does?

  “Come on, Lauren. I’ll tell you whether or not you’re right, okay? Because I do know what’s up with Jess.”

  “Okay.” She looks to her left and to her right and then over her shoulder before she asks in a quiet voice, “Is Jess gay?”

  I blink, then nod. “But how did you know?” Of course what I really want to ask her is, Are you gay too? Because that might explain her suspicion about Jess and why she knows. Still, I know that would be pretty intrusive, not to mention stupid. And I suspect that I’ve already pushed her too hard, because she actually seems even more upset now that I’ve confirmed this is true. Seriously, I don’t want the poor girl falling apart on me right here in the cafeteria. Still, I’m curious. “Really, Lauren, how did you find out about Jess?”

  “Last week,” she begins in a hushed tone. “I can’t remember what day it was, but early in the week . . . it was after school and I was on my way to practice when I saw Jess going into the counseling center. She didn’t see me, so I started to yell at her, but before I did, she ducked into the conference room in there.”

  “So?”

  “Well, remember those colorful posters that were plastered all over the school, the ones about the gay alliance and their sexual-orientation meeting? There’d even been an announcement about it during—”

  “That’s right! That meeting was supposed to be on Tuesday in the conference room in the counseling center, and I remember some of us were making fun of it during English when the announcement came on. I actually teased Joey Pinckney. I told him he should go to the meeting and see if he could find himself a boyfriend.” Suddenly I feel really bad for teasing him like that. I remember the look on his face and how quiet he got. But I was just kidding. Everyone acts like that sometimes. It’s just the way high school kids are. People really shouldn’t get offended so easily. Still, maybe I should apologize. Both to him and Jess.

  “That’s weird.” Lauren gets this funny look on her face.

  “What?”

  “I saw Joey that day too. I mean I can’t say for sure that I saw him go into that room, but now that you mention it, I do remember seeing him hanging out in the counseling center. I thought it was kinda strange, but then Joey is kinda strange.”

  “Do you think he’s gay too?”

  She shrugs. “Guess it’s not really our business. Besides, it’s Jess who concerns me right now.”

  “Well, you’re probably right about her going to that meeting. She’d told me earlier that day that she was going to miss practice because she had to do a chemistry lab, which I remember thinking was odd since I hadn’t had any extra assignments in my chem class. But I’m sure that was just her cover-up so she could attend that meeting.”

  “I didn’t really know what to think,” admits Lauren, “but I decided not to mention it to anyone. Even when Jess missed practice, I sort of just told myself not to start imagining things.”

  “So now you know you weren’t.”

  “Just becau
se she went to that meeting . . .” Lauren looks uncertain. “I mean it doesn’t prove anything. Going to a meeting doesn’t make you a homosexual.”

  I kind of shrug, wishing we’d never had this conversation.

  “But you said she was,” Lauren persists.

  “No, you guessed that she was.”

  Now Lauren looks at me with what seems a pretty suspicious expression. I can almost tell that she’s trying to put two and two together, and I know I need to stop her before she adds it up to equal gay.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I was totally shocked by the news too,” I say quickly. “Actually, Jess outted herself to me on Saturday. We were at the Greenville Mall when she told me. I swear I almost had a nervous breakdown.”

  “Seriously?” Lauren looks properly stunned now. “She told you that while you were at the mall? How does someone do that anyway? Were you guys like shoe shopping in Nordie’s and she just turns to you and announces, ‘I’m gay and what do ya think of these new Nikes?’”

  “Not exactly,” I admit. “I guess she did try to break it to me gently.” I kind of laugh now. “Not that there’s a way to break something like that gently.” Then I go on to tell Lauren about how my lip actually went numb and how I had a meltdown in the restroom. “It was pretty weird.”

  “Wow.”

  “I just didn’t think I should tell anyone,” I continue. “I mean it’s Jess’s business. If she really wants to come out of the closet, well, don’t you think it’s up to her to let her friends know?”

  “I guess.”

  “So, maybe we should just keep it to ourselves.”

  Lauren is looking over my shoulder now, back over to where we abandoned our lunches and our friends. “You really think they won’t figure this out, Ramie?”

  “I don’t know.”