“That’s a relief,” said Jena, but she felt less relieved than she’d be expected. How was she supposed to behave in a space where she could truly be herself? She had no idea. And trying to figure that out seemed like a challenge she hadn’t anticipated.
“Yeah, I can imagine. I haven’t told them much about your parents beyond the fact that they aren’t accepting.”
Jena nodded, still processing her new reality.
“You wanna go down for dinner? My mom makes this awesome baked mac ’n cheese, and she puts bits of bacon in it… And she makes Brussels sprouts too, but they’re so good because she cooks them in the pan with garlic…”
“Let’s just sit for a moment,” said Jena, pulling Maggie to the bed with her. They sat next to each other in silence, listening to the sounds of Maggie’s parents puttering in the kitchen downstairs. The aroma of food had already started to creep up the stairs.
Maggie put a steady hand on Jena’s shoulder. “I’m glad you could make it over here.”
“Me too,” said Jena. “It seemed like such a long shot, but maybe they just wanted me out of the way while my mom took care of her parents.”
“Whatever the case, it’s led to you being here now.”
“Yeah. But man, your parents are so nice,” said Jena. “Like, are they this nice to you when no one else is around?”
“Of course they are,” said Maggie.
Jena sighed. “It’s hard to believe. My parents are this nice to guests, too. But I guess they aren’t, I don’t know, warm like your parents. There’s just a lot of love in this house. I can feel it.”
“There is,” agreed Maggie. “It’s God’s love, I guess.”
Jena could tell that Maggie didn’t quite know else what to say, so she stood up, taking Maggie by the hand. Maggie stood up too, then leaned over and kissed Jena on the lips, wrapping her arms around her waist. It felt good for them to make that contact, but strange, because they weren’t at camp. It was like being in the future—a future where they were together in their own home and visited their parents for the holidays. It felt like a scene from a decade from now.
“Margaret?” called Mrs. Wilson. “Dinner’s ready!”
“That was pretty fast,” said Jena.
“She knew you’d be hungry.”
They broke away from each other’s embrace and made their way down the stairs. Jena put her façade up, still. Even though she logically knew Maggie’s parents were trustworthy, it would take some time for her to feel completely secure here.
She helped Maggie set the table, and within a few minutes, they were all seated. Jena could feel her heart rate escalating. Family dinners at her house were always awkward in a very threatening way. They’d say grace and talk about their day, like many other families. But it was so cold, like they were performing what they thought normal families did, like they were all preoccupied with their internal problems. But that part was true, for Jena, at least. She always tuned out during dinner and told her parents what they wanted to hear. There was a lot they didn’t want, or need, to hear.
“Time to say grace,” said Maggie.
“I have a good one for today. Something funny for our guest,” said Mr. Wilson, pulling a small book out of his pocket and opening it to a page marked with a ribbon.
Maggie threw Jena a mischievous smile.
In a gusty Scottish accent, Mr. Wilson started. “Some hae meat and canna eat, and some would eat that want it, but we hae meat, and we can eat, sae let the Lord be thankit.”
He folded the book and placed it on the table, grinning at Jena’s expression of bewilderment.
“What… was that a Scottish accent?” asked Jena, trying to contain her shock. Her own parents would never have attempted to pull off something like that. In fact, she’d probably have been beaten if she did something they considered disrespectful to the Lord—and a lighthearted grace like that would definitely be on the list.
“It was a funny little poem written by Robert Burns,” said Mr. Wilson. “The Scottish poet. We aren’t normally goofballs.”
“Yeah right, we totally are,” said Maggie.
“Well, I liked it,” said Jena, relaxing a little. Maggie’s family didn’t take themselves too seriously, and that was a good thing.
They served the mac ’n cheese and Brussels sprouts; Maggie’s parents had also made extra bacon to add to the mac ’n cheese in addition to the bits that were crusted over the top. As soon as everyone was served, Jena dug in.
“This is amazing,” she said, trying to avoid shoveling the food into her mouth. She didn’t even normally like Brussels sprouts, but the Wilson parents had worked some kind of magic with them.
“Good,” said Mrs. Wilson. “Feel free to take seconds, and thirds.”
It felt good to be able to just sit and enjoy being a guest in another family. It wasn’t an opportunity Jena had often; she wasn’t close enough with anyone back in Texas to be asked to stay for dinner. But then, she was Maggie’s girlfriend, and if Maggie’s parents acknowledged it, maybe they were extending her a courtesy.
She’d never imagined she’d ever have received that courtesy as part of a gay couple. That sort of thing was just for straight people. Gay couples didn’t get all the same benefits. They moved to San Francisco or New York or wherever and lived in enclaves. They certainly didn’t set up residence in the suburbs and say grace and get invited to holiday dinners.
And the weirdest part was that so far, Maggie’s parents were proving themselves to be exemplary Christians. Jena still didn’t quite believe they were fully accepting of gay people, despite what Maggie said. She’d made them out to be PFLAG members, practically, but it was hard to believe such people were real and lived on the same planet as her. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were proving that you could support gay people and be Christian enough to say grace at meals. It was a remarkable combination.
And it was hard to reconcile that with the knowledge that Jena’s own parents were the stereotypical conservative Christians who thought that a woman being into women was an abomination. Jena could remember them using that word back when she was a kid and didn’t even know what gay or bi or trans people actually were. “Like the Abominable Snowman?” she’d asked, referring to the character from the classic Christmas movie. Her mother, with a wry smile, would tell her no. Not like the Abominable Snowman. Not a fuzzy, fictional monster who turned out to be a good guy. Gay people were very real monsters who preyed on young boys, and lesbians practiced witchcraft.
It was quite a mindfuck when Jena later learned more about what being gay was about—and what a simple concept it was—and that she, in fact, was a lesbian, or bisexual, if you wanted to get technical, and had no desire to practice witchcraft.
After dinner, Maggie’s parents retired to their room and left the girls to entertain themselves downstairs. Maggie had received the new Mortal Kombat game for Christmas, so they engrossed themselves in taking turns guiding Sub-Zero through the temple.
“I’ve never even seen the movie,” complained Jena as she furiously pressed buttons.
“Really? It was a pretty big deal when it came out. But I guess some peoples’ parents thought it was too violent.”
Jena laughed harshly. “My parents didn’t think it was violent, they thought it was downright sinful. And they’d think this was sinful, too. That’s why I don’t have an N64.”
“You don’t?” Maggie unglued her eyes from the TV screen and turned to Jena.
“Yeah.” Jena shrugged. “I always just play when I go to other peoples’ houses.”
Finally, she’d managed to reach the end of the stage. She handed the controller back to Maggie.
“I guess there’s a lot you’re not allowed to do, then, huh?” asked Maggie.
“Oh, yeah. Tons of books, movies, music, video games, you name it, all banned in my house. The good thing is that my parents don’t pay that much attention, so I get stuff from friends and do other stuff when I’m out of the house,” said Jena.
“I’ve kept myself up to date on pop culture, unlike those poor homeschooled kids who get their only social interaction at church.”
“I’d have thought your parents would homeschool you if they were that strict,” said Maggie.
“Nope. That’d take too much effort on their part. I’m lucky.” Jena leaned back on the sofa and watched Maggie play.
“Your family… they don’t sound like they treat you with God’s love,” said Maggie, easily working her way through the next stage. Jena couldn’t help but admire her skill, though she knew it was just from hours of practice with the controller.
“They don’t treat me with any kind of love,” spat Jena. “I get it all from you.”
“I’m glad,” said Maggie. “But if you can’t feel God’s love from your own parents, where are you even supposed to feel it from?”
Nowhere, was Jena’s answer. She’d had the sneaking suspicion for a long time that God wasn’t real at all, and was in fact a fictional concept made to control people. It was obvious, actually, when you looked at history. Jena didn’t know her grandfather’s religious leanings, but by learning all about history from him and his massive bookshelf, Jena saw quite clearly that religion was a tool made to control people. And if that was all it was, then how could it possibly have anything to do with love? If you loved people, you didn’t try to control them.
It seemed fairly simple in her mind, but she didn’t want to accept it. Accepting it would mean that all the people in her life, even beyond Maggie and her parents, were wrong. And if they were all wrong about that… Well, Jena didn’t want to think too much about it. Where would she even go to find people who had the same questions? Even Muslim and Jewish people believed in God. It seemed like almost everyone did, even if they weren’t Christian.
And if there wasn’t God, what was there? Just nothing?
Both possibilities seemed equally terrifying.
“I’ve actually been thinking, Maggie,” said Jena, her heart pounding, “that God might not be real at all.”
Maggie dropped the controller, the game forgotten. “Really?”
“Well, I mean, there’s no evidence for his existence, first off, and if he’s real, then why is he letting my parents treat me this way? And why does he hate gay people?”
“He doesn’t hate gay people,” said Maggie. “He loves everyone. That’s what my parents think.”
“But if your parents and my parents disagree on what he thinks, then what does he really think if he is real, and why doesn’t anyone know? The way I see it, my parents are just using him as a prop for their own beliefs. They think being gay is bad, so they just say that God thinks that so you can’t question it.” Jena looked away, her hands clammy and her shirt sticking to her back. She hadn’t intended to get mired in this discussion, but there was no turning back now.
“I think it’s possible that you’re right, and that God is also real. Your parents are using a fake version of God to push their own beliefs, but the real God is so much more than that. He’s love. And love is the greatest thing there is,” said Maggie. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I mean, yeah, I agree love is awesome, and loving you is the best feeling in the world, but… What does that have to do with God? Why does it have to have anything to do with him? Or Jesus, for that matter? We’re just two people who love each other. Why does there need to be a third person?”
“Because God isn’t a person, he’s God,” said Maggie, tilting her head slightly, like Jena wasn’t making any sense.
And Jena had to admit, Maggie’s answers did fit in with her logic. But they didn’t do anything to alleviate Jena’s doubt.
“I can see how you would think all this, given the way your family is,” said Maggie. “But it’s not what God is about, I promise. God is not about control or hate or abuse.”
“Maybe your God isn’t, but theirs definitely is,” said Jena unhappily. “Anyway, I guess it’s my turn?” She reached for the controller.
Maggie stopped her by placing a hand over hers. “You know I love you, right?”
“Yeah, I know,” said Jena. “I love you too.”
12
Maggie
Maggie could barely sit still, even though she’d been to Ana’s house so many times before that it was practically like her own. She kept checking her phone to see if Jena had said anything, and she often jumped up to pace around and look outside the window, as if Jena would be waiting down there.
Despite all her watching and the overwhelming feeling of apprehension, she was engrossed in a conversation with Reagan when the door knocked, and Imani opened it to see Jena. Maggie looked toward her and walked over, throwing a welcoming arm around her.
“Hey, I guess I have to introduce you to everyone, huh?” said Maggie, guiding Jena into the living room. “This is Ana and her girlfriend, Imani, Reagan, Drew, and his partner, Maya.”
“Good to meet you guys, some of you again,” said Jena, slipping her coat and scarf off. Maggie took them and hung them up on the coatrack.
“Come get a beer,” said Maggie, leading her into the kitchen. Everyone had gone back to the conversations they’d been having, but they’d all been waiting for Jena before breaking out the board game. They hadn’t played Settlers of Catan in a while, so that was on the docket for the night. Maggie’s friends always managed to turn it into a drinking game, too, and on the occasions that Ana brought the bowl out, they often found themselves too intoxicated to do anything but make up their own rules.
When they returned to the living room from the kitchen, they found everyone already seated at the couches, while Ana and Imani took out all the supplies from the game box and started setting it up.
“Have you ever played Catan?” asked Maggie. “Maybe we can be on a team together.”
“That sounds fine,” said Jena. “I’ve somehow managed to never play this game, though I’ve heard of it plenty.”
They squeezed together into a corner of the couch, and Maggie became comfortably aware of how close she and Jena were to each other. She was absolutely itching to get Jena into bed. Jena had rejected her last time—Maggie knew it’d been the right thing for her to do, but it still felt like a rejection—and that had only fueled the fire.
What would it be like to have sex with someone you had such strong feelings for, years later?
The ball was in Jena’s court, though. Maggie could only hope that the time would soon come when they both felt ready.
“So you guys can be orange,” said Ana, handing them a plastic bag with their pieces.
“That was always your favorite color, wasn’t it?” asked Jena.
“Yeah!” Maggie was pleased Jena had remembered such a small detail. “I always pick orange.”
Some loungey electronic music started to emanate from the speakers near the TV; Reagan had apparently put on music. They were always good about doing that for settings like this, and they had the best playlists. In fact, they had pretty much been designated official DJ ever since the group’s college days.
The mood was good, the vibes were positive. Maggie hoped this would go well and her friends would like Jena—and vice versa. Of course, there was no obvious reason why it should go awry, but Maggie didn’t fully know this new version of Jena.
“So basically, you’re trying to create a city that has access to lots of resources and can build roads and settlements,” said Maggie, already knowing that Jena was going to have to learn much of it by watching.
“How about you just ask me for advice when you need it,” said Jena. “It might take a long ass time to explain all the rules.”
“Fair enough,” said Maggie.
The game started easily enough. After so much time together, though, this group of people could get ridiculously competitive; Maggie hoped Jena wouldn’t be put off. Imani and Reagan didn’t care so much about the results of the game, but Ana and Drew had a longstanding rivalry. Everything ended up taking a backseat to that, and things got more complicated
when the people involved got drunk.
“So now we can build a road,” said Maggie, gesturing to the game board. “We can put it there or there. This way encroaches onto Ana’s turf, which is a pretty, um, aggressive move, though we could also start to build our own enclave here…”
“It’s not smart to get into a turf war with Ana,” said Reagan.
“But that’s what the game is about, isn’t it?” asked Jena. “I say we go for it.”
Maggie laughed, and so did Ana and Imani. “Okay, let’s see you try to take us down,” said Imani.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Maggie hadn’t been expecting anyone else, but quickly realized it was Ana’s wife, Elaine.
“Hey!” she said, slipping her coat off. “I got off work early.”
“Just in time, honey,” said Ana, standing up to kiss her wife. The two sat down next to Imani, a happy little family.
Maggie glanced at Jena, who blinked at the three women. Those ladies always appeared absolutely delighted to be in each other’s company. They often made Maggie jealous, though she’d never admit it to them. Few people ever found the kind of love they did.
“So, uh, who’s Elaine?” asked Jena quietly.
“Elaine is Ana’s wife, and Imani is her girlfriend,” said Maggie.
“Oh. I’ve just um, never seen anyone pull off that kind of set up. They always seem to fall apart eventually,” said Jena, narrowing her eyes.
“Have you ever actually met people in an open relationship, though?” said Maggie, glancing over to see that everyone else was engrossed in their own conversations.
“No, I haven’t known any,” admitted Jena, “but I just don’t see how it can work.”
“It’s working for them,” said Maggie, irritated. There was no reason for Jena to cast judgment on the three happy women, especially when she hadn’t been in an actual relationship for years. What did she know about love or relationships?
“We’ll see,” said Jena darkly.
“Just because you don’t see how it can work doesn’t mean it can’t work,” said Maggie.
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