A Time to Speak

by Riley Scott

  “Did you enjoy lunch?” Dominique asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “That was hours ago,” Amy’s laugh spilled off her lips with ease. “But yes, I did. And I’m looking forward to what’s next.”

  “Good.” Dominique gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and led them around the corner, away from the Sixth Street partiers.

  “I thought we were going out?” Amy stopped walking for a second to turn around and point back to where the party crowd had clearly already gathered.

  Dominique winked. “We are. We’re going out to our spot. You’ll see. It’s just up ahead.”

  When they reached their destination, Dominique held out her hands as if she was presenting a prize. “Ta-da,” she added for dramatic effect. Amy eyed her quizzically, leaning back as she looked the place up and down. She turned to her right, watching two women with spiked hair walk arm-in-arm into the bar.

  The lines in Amy’s brow deepened and she shook her head. “What is this place?” She asked, gulping.

  “It’s a gay bar,” Dominique said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I know it’s a gay bar, okay?” Amy said. She shook her head and shoved her hands into her pockets. “Why are we here though? I thought we were meeting some of your friends.”

  “We are.” Dominique walked over to where Amy stood with her feet planted several feet away. “They’re already inside.” Amy tapped her foot against the pavement, and Dominique watched as her eyes flitted from side to side. “What’s going on? I thought you’d enjoy it. We can go somewhere else if you’d like.” Dominique looked again to the front of the building. Nothing about the red brick and velvet rope should be so off-putting, but she wanted to get to the bottom of this.

  “I’ve just…” Amy started but then looked at the ground. “I’ve just never been inside one of these, and I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know how to act in front of your friends anyway. I’ve never really gone through any of this. I know I don’t look like a lesbian. I don’t know how I’m supposed to look or act or be in there.”

  Her babbling-when-nervous habit gave her away, and Dominique put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay to be nervous, but there’s nothing to be nervous about. You don’t have to act a certain way in there. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. That place,” Dominique pointed for dramatic effect, “that’s our sanctuary. We can go in there and be whoever we truly are without judgment, without fear. Those women you saw walking in may be gay, and they may not be. You know as well as I do that looks don’t mean anything. We can’t judge books by their cover, and everyone in there will know not to judge you for how you look. You’ll see. There are butches, femmes, gay men of all varieties, and everything in between. Straight people come here, too. But behind those doors, you don’t have to look gay or straight. You don’t have to act any certain way. It’s a place for all and a place that celebrates people like you and me.”

  Amy’s frown was still intact but she nodded. “Okay. I’ll give it a try, because I trust you.”

  “Okay,” Dominique said. She smiled and grabbed Amy’s hand. “If you hate it, we’ll leave. But I think you might just find it a bit freeing. I know I did the first time I walked through these doors.”

  “When was that?”

  Dominique glanced to the side, careful to keep her voice low. “When I was nineteen. I got a fake ID just so I could sneak in and be with other gay people. I needed somewhere to fit in, and this was the place that saved my life when I was at my lowest and most hopeless point.”

  “Saved your life,” Amy repeated.

  Dominique nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Dominique shrugged it off. “Let’s just get inside and get you a drink.”

  Once inside, Dominique let her eyes adjust to the darkened room. With a punk band playing on the main stage and neon lights scattered about, she breathed in deeply. Even though this place smelled of old booze and cigarette smoke, it felt like home. She watched Amy out of the corner of her eye. Her shoulders had relaxed, but she still seemed bewildered. Certain it was unlike anything Amy had ever seen before, Dominique gently took her hand and led her to a tall top in the back, where she had spotted Cheyenne.

  “Chey!” she called out as they approached the table.

  Cheyenne turned around and smiled, jumping off her barstool to greet Dominique with a hug.

  “Long time, no see, stranger,” she said, her broad smile growing as she turned her attention to Amy. “And it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Cheyenne,” she said, going in for a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you and how happy you make my girl.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too,” Amy said, her face softening into a genuine smile. She took the seat offered, and Dominique climbed atop the barstool next to her, grateful to have her two worlds collide.

  Over small talk, she watched Amy relax, and after two screwdrivers, Amy and Cheyenne were laughing and telling jokes. Dominique sipped her drink, chiming in to the conversation when appropriate.

  When Cheyenne disappeared off to the dance floor, Dominique turned to face Amy. She took a long sip of her drink and leveled her gaze, wrapping her fingers through Amy’s. “There’s something I want to talk to you about,” she said, mulling over her approach as she bought time by taking another drink.

  “Go for it,” Amy said. “By the way, I really like this place.” Her smile lit up the darkened room.

  Dominique bit her lip, looking off into the distance. “There’s really no gentle way to do this, I guess. And I’ve always been a bit of a bull in a china shop.” She took a deep breath and decided to bite the bullet. “I want you to be sure it’s me you want,” she said with a shrug. She had gone over this a hundred times in her head to make sure it didn’t feel like she was setting a trap. She knew it would hurt if Amy agreed but she needed to know, and either way, she would take the answer. With a sigh, she put her drink back on the table and gestured to the crowd. “I know Knell is small, but the world isn’t. I love you, and I know that with certainty. I know that it’s a genuine connection I have with you, but I also don’t want you to feel pressured just because I was the only one available.”

  Amy’s smile fell. Dominique hung her head. “The last thing I wanted was to make that smile go away. I just wanted you to know that you’re really not alone. Neither am I. There are so many more people like us, and I don’t have to be your only choice. I want to be, but I also want you to know your options.”

  With an eyebrow raised, Amy eyed the crowd. When she smiled, Dominique’s heart caught in her chest. She should have kept her damn mouth shut. “The brunette in the corner is pretty cute,” Amy said, turning her attention back to Dominique. Amy toyed with the straw of her drink. “But not nearly as cute as you,” she added, her smile widening. “I know there are other women out there. I also know that what I feel for you isn’t based on the fact that you were the only other lesbian in town. You’re not a convenience to me. In fact, you’re somewhat of an inconvenience to the quiet little life I used to live.” Dominique stiffened until Amy reached over and put her hand on her leg. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way. You disrupted my life in a way that changed it for the better.” Amy took a deep breath and squeezed Dominique’s leg. “You said something earlier, and I want you to know that I feel it too. I love you.” She smiled and a single tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve never actually said that to someone in this way, but it’s true. I love you for who you are. No one here can hold a candle to you, to your tenacity, to your kind heart, to your sense of humor, to the fire that lights up your eyes when you’re so stubbornly set on making a change. No one here has that, because no one is you. You’re who I want.”

  In an instant, whatever remained of Amy’s shyness faded. She leaned forward, wrapped her fingers in Dominique’s hair and tilted back her head, kissing Dominique’s neck, earlobes and finally her lips. When she pulled back, she smiled. “And I don’t care
who knows that I’m in love with the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

  Behind them, the band continued playing and dancers continued moving about the floor, but the only thing that mattered was getting lost in Amy’s fierce love.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Saturdays were typically filled with yard work, running errands for his wife, or relaxing and watching the Longhorns play ball on television. But today, that wouldn’t do. George Brandt looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d never been big on appearances but he wanted to look nice today.

  He trimmed his beard and put on a polo shirt and a nicer pair of blue jeans. No need to be super fancy, but it might help to show he put in some effort. After all, he had some making up to do.

  “I’ll be back after while,” he called out to Carol, who was gardening in the corner of the yard.

  Perking up, she rose from her spot. “Where are you going?”

  “Out to take care of some things.” He motioned back to her garden. “I’ll be back by the time you’re done with that.”

  She raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. “George Brandt.” She paused, letting the effect of her angry tone sink in. “You expect me to just let you waltz out of here on a day you were supposed to help me move those pallets in the back into the garage and make me a shelf?”

  “Carol, I’ll be back. This is important.”

  Her eyes bore into his soul, but he shook his head. Throughout their marriage, she won most of these battles. Today was his to win.

  “Fine,” she said, throwing down her gardening sheers. “You go out and do whatever you think it is that’s so important, and I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.”

  He nodded, keeping his mouth shut. She might have been his wife of thirty-six years, but that didn’t mean she had to approve of where he went today. And he wasn’t about to tell her where he was headed until he tested the waters. He waved and called out, “Love you,” before he headed for his truck. He didn’t give her a chance to say it back, knowing her stubborn streak would keep her from reciprocating any type of affection, at least until she cooled down.

  In the truck, he took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. Carol’s anger at current situations had manifested into a huge, ugly, volatile monster of a temper. She was prone to shoot off at anything, for any reason—or no reason—whatsoever.

  He pulled out of the driveway, needing time and space to think as much as he needed to make a trip up the road.

  When she’s ready to be an adult and admit she has the choice to make on how she wants to live her life, she can come to us, George. He could hear Carol’s clipped words in his memory, her inability to budge on the issue, no matter how hard he had tried to convince her they might need to extend an olive branch to their daughter.

  He pulled into the coffee shop and saw Amelia’s car, but let his truck idle when he saw four other customers inside.

  Business was good at least, he noted, smiling with pride for his daughter’s hard work. But he wasn’t about to interrupt her day when she had people to take care of. He’d wait. Turning up Reba on the cassette player, he leaned back in his seat and watched her work.

  She had her mother’s smile, and it lit up every time she greeted someone. He waited while she poured coffee and served pastries to everyone in line. When the last one came up to the counter, the teenaged girl took her coffee, gave Amelia the money, and left.

  Fortunately for him, everyone had taken their orders to go. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the truck.

  He checked his reflection in the driver’s side window and straightened his shirt. Walking to the door, he reminded himself he didn’t have to be a superhero. He just needed to be her father.

  “Good morning,” he heard Amelia’s chipper voice call out from the back room where she must have gone to gather things from the kitchen.

  “Morning, sweetheart,” he called back.

  He heard something drop to the ground in the back, a muffled curse, and footsteps. In the silence while he waited, he tried to figure out what to say to make this situation easier, to make up for the fact that more than a month had passed. Still blank when she walked around the corner, he smiled.

  “Dad?” The lines in her forehead deepened as she stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you and to tell you I love you.”

  Her face tightened, and she looked as if she might cry. Instead she closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. “I love you, too,” she said quietly. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  “I’ll take a cup. And grab one for yourself, if you have time to sit and chat for a minute or two.”

  She looked around the empty store and ticked off items on her fingers. “I should be free for a while,” she said after a minute’s pause. “I’ll grab us both a cup and come meet you over on the couch.”

  He saw her hands trembling as she grabbed their Styrofoam cups and his heart broke. He never wanted her to feel uncomfortable in his presence. As he took his seat on the couch, he didn’t take his eyes off her. She walked with a façade of confidence. She was guarded.

  She set down a cup in front of him and clutched hers close to her chest, as if it were a shield. “What did you want to talk about?”

  He cleared his throat and moved one of the couch pillows so he could settle in. “I wanted to see how you were and make sure you knew you had me in your corner.”

  She raised her eyebrow at him and cocked her head, unspoken questions looming between them.

  “I know you didn’t see that much of my support when you talked to us a while back,” he said, setting his cup on the table and leaning closer to her. “I was in shock, and I didn’t deal with my response the way I should have. For that, I’m sorry. But I’ve done a lot of soul searching, and what you said is right. You’re still my baby girl. I don’t understand this and I may never. But it doesn’t change the love I have for you.”

  Amelia nodded, her lips tightly pressed together.

  “Your mom isn’t quite in the same boat yet. She loves you, but she’s stubborn. So it’ll be a while before she reaches out. Regardless, I needed you to know where I stand.”

  “Where’s that?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as she pulled her legs up to her chest and took a slow sip of coffee.

  “On your side of life, willing to help you in any way I can and willing to try to understand even when I don’t have the answers.”

  “Thank you.” The tear that had been hanging on by a thread finally made its way down her cheek. “Mom isn’t going to try to fix me, is she?”

  “She talked about some therapy options and church counseling, but I told her you’re an adult and need to make your own choices.”

  “This isn’t a choice.” She shook her head vehemently and closed her eyes. “If it was a choice, I might have picked something a little easier.”

  “I’m trying to understand that, too,” he said removing his hat and putting it in his lap. He shifted his weight forward and reached out to lay a protective hand on her knee. “I have no reason to doubt you, honey. You’ve never lied to me before. You’ve never done anything to make me question you, so I trust you. These are waters I’ve never had to navigate, but I am damn sure going to try.”

  She reached down and wrapped her hand around his, giving it a squeeze. She let out a deep breath. “That means a lot. It really does.”

  He looked off and stared at a painting on the wall, beautiful flowers spiraling up an old gate. It would be easier to focus his attention there, but he owed his daughter more. Leveling his gaze with her, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?” She leaned back against the pillow on her side of the couch.

  “I’m sorry you lost someone close to you and none of us knew enough to make sure you were okay during that time.” A lump formed in his throat as he thought about his little girl hurting in silence. “And I’m sorry you’ve had to face a struggle this big, not
feeling like you could come talk to me. You’re a trooper, Amelia. You always have been. You come out swinging even when the odds are stacked against you, and you’ve always been a lone wolf. But I want you to know that I admire your strength and I can’t imagine having to deal with something like this—especially all alone.”

  She pulled the pillow from behind her back and clutched it to her chest, trying to steady her breathing as tears streaked down her face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner,” she said, her voice broken by quiet sobs.

  “You don’t have to apologize, and I’m going to do the best I can from here on out to make sure you’re not alone anymore.”

  She nodded and let out a sigh, reaching for the box of tissues on the table. Wiping her tears away, she smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said again. “This is kind of surprising to me and I don’t really know how to take it, but thank you.”

  “I read your statement in the paper the day after you stopped by,” he said, clearing his throat. “It was an eye-opener for me, I think. And I wanted you to know I’m proud of the way you handled yourself.”

  “Did Mom read it?” Her lip quivered and he wanted to comfort her.

  “She did.” He kept emotion out of his voice, but her eyes darkened, knowing he was holding back. She motioned for him to continue, stiffening before he delivered the blow. “She crumpled the newspaper into a ball and threw it across the living room.”

  “Bad enough I ruin her life, even worse I run the family name through the mud, if I was guessing?” she asked.

  “Something like that.” He shook his head. “She will come around, though. I know she will. She’s struggling right now, and I’ve actually asked her to keep her distance for a while. Nothing said or done now needs to put a strain on your relationship with your mother in the future. She’s not reacting well. Hell, I didn’t react well at first, and I’ve never been one to sugarcoat things. This isn’t easy for me, and I know it’s going to take some time. It’s not the way we were raised to view the world. But I’m trying, and I know in her own way, she is, too. But I don’t want you to see that right now and think you’re alone.”