Locked Inside

by Annette Mori

  I looked up at the ceiling and remained awake for at least another hour—wondering what I would write to her the next morning. At least we were leaving for Bellingham right after her only class. I hoped we would get a chance to work through the awkwardness that I was convinced would rear its ugly head in the morning.

  All the other professors had cancelled class on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, but not Carly’s anatomy and physiology class. She needed to go to every class or she lost valuable points.

  I told myself we would have time to smooth this new wrinkle before Fran came to pick us up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Quinn and I had just completed our workout. Quinn asked if she could hang out with me while I waited for Carly and Fran. She didn’t exactly use those words, but rather her abbreviated version.

  “Your room?” Quinn asked.

  I nodded.

  Quinn lumbered along next to me as I rolled down the hallway leading to my room.

  Abbie was propped up against the door, holding a dozen long stem roses in her hand. Her head was bowed—wedged between her legs. When we got within a couple of feet from her, she looked up. I could tell from her puffy red eyes that she’d been crying—a lot from the looks of her face. I almost felt sorry for her, but then I worried about how she got when she was drunk.

  “Oh, God, Belinda, Quinn, I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the way I acted last night. I’ve got a problem and I swear, I’m going to deal with it. Me and alcohol are a bad combination, I should have figured that out sooner. I am a big chip off the old man’s block,” Abbie confessed.

  Now, I did feel sorry for her.

  I wrote, Carly’s not here.

  “I know, I know. Can I please wait inside for her?” she asked.

  I looked up at Quinn who nodded. I liked that about Quinn that she knew what I was asking without writing it down. Quinn would come inside and wait with us to make sure that Abbie was truly repentant about her abhorrent behavior the previous night.

  I shrugged.

  Abbie scrambled up from her squatting position and followed us into the room.

  We all sat there eyeing one another. It was awkward, unlike the comfortable silence between Quinn and me.

  Abbie squirmed in her chair, cleared her throat, and began talking, “I decided to quit drinking after last night. I swear I’ve never laid a hand on anyone before. Things were a little out of control. I was frustrated because I love Carly so much and she doesn’t seem to want to take our relationship to the next level. I just thought if she really loved me, it would naturally progress.”

  Carly doesn’t like pressure of any kind, I scribbled quickly.

  Abbie started crying again. “I know. I’m being a total ass. I’m like some horny guy pressuring their girlfriend for sex. I won’t do that anymore. I promise.”

  I’m not the one you should be making that declaration to.

  Abbie nodded and we returned to our uncomfortable silence.

  Fortunately, a few minutes later, Carly walked into the room. She stopped abruptly when she saw Abbie sitting in the chair.

  “Please, Carly, can we talk for just a few minutes? I promise after we’ve had a chance to talk if you never want to see me again, I’ll leave you alone,” Abbie pleaded.

  I watched as a look of indecision passed across Carly’s face. She must have decided to hear Abbie out because she nodded. “Okay, but I only have thirty minutes before Fran comes to pick us up for the break.”

  I wanted to be a fly on the wall during their conversation, but I knew Carly would tell me all about it later.

  Quinn stayed in the room with me until Carly returned. Quinn had come a long way with her ability to converse with me, but only me. She asked me about my plans for Thanksgiving and mentioned the possibility of visiting during the break since she lived in Mount Vernon and it was relatively close to Bellingham.

  “Maybe I could come up on Saturday and we could grab something to eat,” she offered.

  I’d like that. Do you think that maybe we could invite Carly, Darian, and Paula.

  Darian had already called Carly earlier this week to ask about getting together during Thanksgiving and I’d agreed that it might be fun since my impression of the couple was starting to improve.

  “Sure. Paula sounds like a hoot.”

  Oh, she definitely is, but you have to keep in mind that the woman has no filter. She honestly doesn’t mean to offend anyone.

  “No worries, I’d rather have someone be honest to my face than stab me in the back,” she answered.

  We talked about our classes and how we thought our mid-quarter exams had gone. Both of us were dedicated students, so thus far we felt good about the quarter. Carly was smiling when she came back to the room and I knew deep down she was prepared to give Abbie another chance. I’d get the full scoop later, but for now I smiled at her to show her that I would support her no matter what I felt about the situation—that’s what a best friend did, didn’t they?

  “See you Saturday,” Quinn said and left with a tiny wave and broad smile.

  “Saturday?” Carly asked.

  She lives in Mount Vernon and asked about doing something on Saturday. I suggested we all get together, you, me, Darian, and Paula.

  “Better add Abbie to that list.” Carly glanced at me, presumably to gauge my reaction.

  I continued to smile. Should be fun, I wrote. It was killing me to be supportive, but that’s what best friends did.

  “Can we wait until we get home before I give you all the details? How about if we make plans for Friday? We can make it a bestie and drama free day. Okay?

  I nodded. I was anxious to get the full scoop, but knew enough not to push for answers before she was ready to talk.

  Fran sauntered into the room a few minutes later, breaking the awkward moment. If she picked up on anything, she didn’t say. I needed to talk to someone about all my confusing feelings and I planned to pin down Fran later that evening. She was good about giving sage advice and I sure needed it right about now.

  †

  The ride home to Bellingham was quiet. Fran started to engage us both in conversation multiple times, but when her starters ended in short answers intended to suffocate further dialog, she stopped. Normally both Carly and I would sit in the back and when I wrote something, Carly would translate while Fran was driving. Brad was a quiet guy and only added a few comments here and there to the conversation. So when it was just the two of them talking with our awkward silence in the back, the car got eerily quiet.

  Fran looked in the rear view mirror and caught my eyes.

  I shrugged in response.

  When Fran dropped Carly off at her house, Carly opened the door and before she walked away she poked her head back inside the car and allayed my fears when she tossed out, “Friday, then? I’ll come by to pick you up around ten. Okay?”

  I nodded eagerly. I wondered if I would just get an update on her relationship with Abbie or if we would talk about the kiss.

  Fran waited to drop Brad off before glancing in the rear view mirror. “When we get home you’re going to tell me what the hell that was all about.”

  I shrugged like it was no big deal, but I knew I would write every thought and feeling down and ask her to help me make some sense of the whole bloody mess.

  †

  When we pulled up into the driveway, I saw the blinds move and it warmed my heart to know that my parents were anxiously awaiting our arrival. Ever since the results of the test that proved I wasn’t some empty headed husk of a human being, my mom’s view of her decision did a one eighty. She no longer cursed her decision to keep me alive. I was kinda grateful for that myself.

  Both my mom and dad were waiting with the front door wide open as I transferred myself into the chair that Fran brought around for me. With broad grins on their faces, they stepped to me—fiercely hugging and kissing my cheek.

  It was simply too much of a hassle to come home very often—so I didn’t. Thi
s was the first time I’d made it back home since I started college. Although I was able to send text messages, nothing beats face-to-face contact.

  Mom was chattering away the minute that I rolled up. “Belinda, you look so good—so grown up. Oh, and Fran, I am so proud of how you’ve stepped up to the plate to support your little sister by taking her to all her therapy appointments. How have those been going by the way? Any progress on your legs yet? Oh, I am so happy to see you girls. Evie is, too.”

  I doubted that Evie was thrilled. We’d moved past outright hostility to planned indifference. She was still working through the fact that my best friend was a lesbian and how that might affect her social standing. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt and hope she’d matured since I’d seen her.

  “Mom, slow down. Let us get inside. Belinda doesn’t even have her tablet in her lap yet,” Fran declared. She laughed and I smiled back at her and my mom.

  Dad was just standing there grinning at all his girls. I could tell he was happy to see us, but showed this in his own quiet manner. He patted my shoulder as he followed us into the house.

  Evie stood up, hugged Fran, and then surprised the shit out of me when she leaned and gave me a one armed embrace. “Hey, sis, I missed your wheelin’ ass,” she whispered.

  I twisted my body to retrieve my tablet from the backpack hanging on my chair. Ditto, I wrote.

  “What, what did I miss?” Mom asked.

  “Nothing,” Evie replied at the same time I was writing nothing on my tablet.

  “So, how is college? Are you having any problems?” Mom asked.

  Everything’s good

  “Have you made any new friends?” Mom wanted to know.

  Remember Quinn? She’s been helping me with my exercises. We’ve become friends.

  Mom frowned. “That big girl?”

  “She’s a real sweetheart, Mom, and a very good friend to Belinda. She’s every bit as nice as Carly,” Fran interjected.

  “She’s kind of masculine looking. Is she a lesbian, too?” Mom asked.

  “Jeez, Mom, why do you care? It doesn’t seem to matter that Carly is gay, so why are you asking about Quinn’s sexuality?” Fran asked.

  I was watching my mom’s interaction with Fran carefully. Fran was dead on—she’d never cared one bit about Carly. I was wondering the same thing.

  “It’s just that if all of Belinda’s friends are gay, people might assume she is too and then she’ll never meet a nice young man like Bradley.”

  And there it was. It was okay for my friends to be lesbians, but not me. Shit. I was going to have to come clean pretty soon.

  Fran glanced at me and a strange look filtered across her face. Maybe she caught some kind of reaction from me, but the next words out of her mouth took me by surprise.

  “So what if Belinda is a lesbian, too. You wouldn’t love her any less, would you?” Fran probed.

  Evie narrowed her eyes at me and then she did something so out of character I nearly fainted. She shrugged. “Wow, that is so cool. I have a lesbian sister. It’s kind of in vogue now to have a gay family member. Ellen DeGeneres has done a world of good for your people.”

  My people? Oh, my God, it was sounding like I was in the middle of a civil rights march.

  Mom glanced from Evie to Fran and then back to me. “Well….are you?”

  I shrugged. Mom was staring at me. Clearly my shrug was not enough of an answer so I composed something equally unclear. I don’t know, maybe.

  Mom let that answer sit for a few seconds before she responded. “Well, you have plenty of time to figure it out. Don’t rush the decision just because you’re surrounded by lesbians—that doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily one.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Being a lesbian is not a decision, Mom. If she’s gay, she was born that way.”

  “Language, Fran. I’m sure I taught you other words to use.” Mom did manage to look a little sheepish as she added, “Of course, you’re right. It isn’t a decision. Your dad and I don’t care one bit. It’s just it could be another challenge to overcome and I think you have enough on your plate right now.”

  Dad kissed me on the cheek as an acknowledgement of what Mom just declared.

  Then my mom launched into her go to mode. “Are you girls hungry? I have some lunch meats. I could make you both a sandwich.”

  “Yeah, I could eat,” Fran pronounced.

  Me too, I wrote.

  To this day, I’m still amazed at how my pseudo coming out party landed on my parents and little sister. In my mind, I’d built it up as some kind a huge event, but in the end, it was more like a dud firecracker.

  We talked for another hour and I filled them in on my progress, or rather lack of progress, on my therapy session in relationship to my legs. I could tell from their expressions that they were disappointed, but certainly not more than I was. The last two hurdles to my recovery were proving to be quite a challenge. I wondered if I would ever regain the use of my legs or my voice.

  Fran decided it was time to find out what was going on so she blurted out, “I need to talk with Belinda, alone.”

  I don’t think Mom actually liked the idea of Fran and me keeping secrets, but she nodded her assent.

  †

  When we got to my room, Fran started the conversation. “So, spill. What’s going on? Something obviously happened between you and Carly.”

  I’m not really confused about my sexuality. I’m pretty sure I am gay. Carly kissed me.

  “That’s great, Belinda. So, why was it so weird in the car. I knew that Carly had feelings for you.”

  That’s the confusing part. She doesn’t know I’m gay. She thinks she made a huge mistake.

  “Easy, peasy. Just tell her how you feel.”

  Too late. She has a girlfriend and they just kissed and made up today after a rough evening.

  “Damn, that sucks. I still think you should tell her. It might make a difference in how she views her relationship with her girlfriend.”

  No. I won’t be the one to break that up. Besides, I’m in a wheelchair. She likes the athletic types and that’s just not me. Well, not yet.

  “So…tell me about this kiss? Was it steamy?” Fran laughed.

  I would have sighed if I had the capacity to make a sound. It was heavenly.

  “You know I’ll support you no matter what, but I do think you are selling yourself short. The way Carly looks at you is nothing short of love.”

  Maybe someday our timing will be in sync, but that day is not today.

  “I’m rooting for you both. In the meantime, what’s up with you and Quinn?”

  I blushed. We’re kind of dating.

  “Okay, what’s kind of dating? Either you are or aren’t. You know, just like pregnancy, you can’t be kinda pregnant. You either are or aren’t.”

  I smiled. We go out. Do stuff together. She kisses me on the lips, but nothing steamy. Still relatively chaste.

  “She wants more. Doesn’t she?”

  I nodded.

  “Careful, Belinda. Quinn’s a nice girl. You know I love you, but don’t lead her on, that wouldn’t be the right thing to do,” Fran warned.

  She knows the score. I’ve been honest.

  “That doesn’t mean you won’t hurt her,” Fran pushed.

  I know and that’s the last thing I want to do.

  “I still don’t understand how you can be honest with Quinn, but not your best friend who you’re in love with.”

  I hadn’t said I was in love with Carly, but Fran knew. She could see it written on my face. It couldn’t have been any more plain if I had Belinda is in love with Carly written in big black marker across my forehead. She was right, but I just wasn’t ready for the possible heartache of losing my best friend if the confession somehow went sideways.

  Please, drop it.

  “Okay. For now, I will. We’d better get back out there. I’m sure Mom has laid out a feast for us.”

  I was relieved that Fran ha
d dropped the topic so easily. I knew that we would pick up on this again sometime, but I was emotionally exhausted and not ready to talk any more about it. I was hoping my confession to Fran would help me sort out my feelings, but it didn’t. I was still confused. I needed to talk to my best friend about these feelings, but unfortunately, she was the root cause, so that avenue was not available to me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Thanksgiving was pleasant and it reminded me of old times with the family. Mom made so much food we would be eating turkey and lasagna for days. I’d missed the carefree banter of my youth and the additional guests that always seemed to show up because Mom couldn’t resist taking in the orphans.

  For the first time since my illness, Mom returned to her tradition of inviting anyone who didn’t have somewhere to go for the holidays. This year we had a pair of visiting professors who were my mom’s current orphans. She’d also invited several exchange students that weren’t able to travel the thousands of miles back to their home country. It was a full house and it was glorious. I finally felt like my disability was not getting in the way of my mom’s favorite holiday. Everything was back to normal, or as normal as it can get with your daughter still on the path to recovery from a debilitating illness.

  I hit it off with one of the young women from France, Josette, and decided to invite her to come with our gang on Saturday. Josette was very funny. We invited her to stay in the guest room since she’d be coming with us on Saturday and Fran offered to spend the day with her on Friday. When Fran asked if she wanted to jog with her in the morning her response was, “We smoke, we drink, we do not do the sport. It’s typically French.”

  Fran nearly doubled with laughter.

  French women don’t have any hang-ups about sex and she was quick to add that she didn’t know what the big deal was about lesbians. She described herself as bi-sexual because why would she want to limit her choices.

  I thought that was a good point, but I just couldn’t see myself cozying up to a big hairy guy. I just wasn’t attracted to them. I did find her charming and wondered what she might be like in bed. I bet she would be wild, but I hadn’t even done more than a steamy kiss so I just couldn’t imagine all the possibilities. My only reference point was some of the lesbian romance novels I’d read. So far, most of them were relatively tame.