by Nell Stark
“All right,” Rory said, struggling to focus on the task at hand. She pressed the Record button and nodded to her audience. “I’m all set, Professor. I have a list of questions that I can ask you, of course, or we can just have a conversation about what Fair Rhode Island’s campaign means to you and why you feel that it’s important.”
“Well,” Professor Danser said, a slight smile curling his lips, “since I am a professor, why don’t I go ahead and profess, and you can interrupt me with questions or comments as you see fit.”
Rory laughed. “Fair enough. That makes my job easy.”
Professor Danser cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and looked straight into the camera. “I have been a scholar of literature for over forty years,” he said. “I am not a lawyer, nor am I a politician, nor a theologian. I am in no way an expert on marriage. But I am an expert in loving my partner, another man, with whom I have shared a bed and a home for thirty-five years.”
Rory felt goose bumps rise on her forearms at the strength of emotion behind Professor Danser’s words. “Have you and your partner ever wanted to get married, Professor?” she asked.
He nodded. “We’ve wished for that option since the beginning. And like any two mature people who intend to build a life together, we deserve to have our relationship sanctioned by this state. We deserve to be able to co-own a house without having to add special clauses to the title. We deserve the right to visit each other in the hospital in the case of an emergency—God forbid—without filling out power of attorney forms that may not be respected anyway.”
Rory zoomed in closer as he spoke, wanting her future audience to become as caught up in the cadence and substance of the professor’s words as she was. “What would you say to those who are in favor of the proposed amendment?”
Professor Danser arched his snowy eyebrows. His expression was mild, but his tone was quietly vehement. “I would have them remember that it was not so long ago that interracial marriages were illegal in most states. When we look back on those laws, we call them—and their makers—racist and bigoted.” He paused, staring down the camera as though it were the lawmakers in question. “The issue of gay marriage is not qualitatively different. It will become a reality—if not next year, then the year after that. Or ten years after that. I would ask the state of Rhode Island to be forward-thinking, courageous, and compassionate now, when our position on this question can truly make a difference.”
Rory let out her breath slowly. I’ve got to use part of this in my commercial, she thought. He’s an incredible speaker, and he’ll probably appeal to the older demographic.
“I couldn’t agree more, Professor,” she said. “Before I stop recording, is there anything you’d like to add?”
Professor Danser smiled briefly, still focused exclusively on the camera. “Vote no.”
Rory grinned back. How could she be anything less than optimistic, given the professor’s testimonial? I can’t wait to show this to you, Sarah, she thought as she packed everything up. You’re going to love it.
*
Sarah paused near the classroom door as her women’s studies professor rifled through the tall stack of papers on her desk. Professor Torrey was a willowy woman whose long, silver hair reached almost to her waist. She ran a casual, lively class that Sarah had been enjoying since the first day of the semester.
“Here you are, Sarah,” she said, handing over Sarah’s paper face-down. “And actually, do you have a few minutes to talk right now?”
Sarah’s heart trip-hopped in her chest at the question. Oh jeez. Did I really botch up the assignment? Professor Torrey didn’t look upset or disappointed, though. In fact, she was smiling. That’s got to be a good sign, right?
“Sure thing,” Sarah said. She dropped her backpack onto a nearby chair and leaned against the desk attached to it. While the rest of the class filed out the door, Sarah flipped her paper over to see the grade.
Relief blossomed in her gut. Oh thank God, she thought, looking down at the bright red “A” next to her name.
“All set,” Professor Torrey said. “Thanks for waiting around.”
“Of course.”
The professor began putting books into her bags as she spoke. “I just wanted to tell you in person how impressed I was with your paper’s treatment of the politics around the upcoming referendum.”
Sarah flushed at the compliment. “Really? Thank you!”
Professor Torrey slung her bag over one shoulder and nodded. “Most people would have approached this issue much more canonically,” she said. “They would have assumed that two and only two monolithic entities are involved—the ‘straights’ who want an amendment passed, and the ‘gays’ who want it shot down.”
Sarah shook her head. “I hear that perspective often, at work. I think it’s really problematic to discount the gray area.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Professor Torrey said. “And that’s why your discussion of how banning civil unions will be detrimental to heterosexual couples is so smart and thoughtful.”
Sarah grinned. The praise—from someone she respected so highly—was intoxicating. “I’m glad that you think so.”
“What’s your major?” Professor Torrey asked, looking at Sarah intently.
“Chemistry,” Sarah said. “I’m pre-med.”
“Ah.” Professor Torrey moved toward the door, indicating for Sarah to walk with her. “It’s clear that you’re highly motivated, and I’m sure you’ll make an excellent doctor. But I can also see that you’re passionate about the law, and about social justice. More than that, you’re a strong, effective writer.” She paused at the stairwell near the end of the hallway. “If you ever decide that the medical profession isn’t your heart’s desire, I’d encourage you to consider going to law school. I think you’d find it illuminating.”
Sarah was surprised. It had never occurred to her to study law. But why not? You’re surrounded by lawyers at FRI. What they’re doing is so important.
“Thanks, Professor,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Professor Torrey nodded. “Have a good weekend, Sarah.”
“You, too.”
Sarah thought about their conversation as she walked back to her room. She had wanted to be a doctor for as long as she could remember. I’ve never even considered another profession—not seriously. And yet, she was getting passionate about this referendum, and the politics around it, in a way that she’d never experienced before—so much so that she was thinking about taking a political science course next semester. Law school. Huh.
But as she turned into the stairwell and jogged up toward the third floor, reality set in. She already had student loans that needed paying off, and whatever professional school option she chose would just create more debt.
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered to her inner pragmatist. “Let me dream.”
Sarah got out her keys as she approached her room, but tried the handle first. To her delight, the door swung open. Rory’s home. Eagerly, she stepped inside, brandishing her paper. “Check this out!”
“Hey, you.” Rory said. She swiveled around in her desk chair and gave Sarah that welcoming grin that always made her feel like a million bucks. “What’s up?”
“Look what Prof. T gave me on the most recent paper,” Sarah said, proudly displaying the A for Rory. “And she thinks I should go to law school.”
“Law school?” Rory raised her eyebrows. “Sarah Storm, Esquire?”
Sarah grinned. “Sounds sophisticated. What do you think?”
“I think you should totally be a public defender. Like in My Cousin Vinny.”
Sarah rolled up her paper and smacked Rory in the shoulder with it. “No way. I’d go civil, not criminal.” She rested her palms on Rory’s desk and leaned in to look at her computer screen. “What are you working on?”
When Rory leaned her head against Sarah’s arm for a moment, Sarah had to fight the sudden urge to kiss her on the forehead. She blinked hard. Th
ose little compulsions were happening more and more frequently, and they rattled her. She had to stay in control. The last thing she wanted to do was make a stupid, careless mistake that would estrange her from Rory.
“I just so happen to be editing footage of my favorite roommate,” Rory said, pointing toward the spot in the frame where Sarah was frozen in the act of distributing flyers outside the dining hall.
“I’m your only roommate.”
“D’oh!” said Rory. “You caught me. And, hey, remind me to show you my theory professor’s interview at some point, okay? It was incredible.”
“Cool. I will.” But as she stood looking at the paused video, Sarah had an idea that had nothing to do with FRI or the amendment. The conversation with Professor Torrey had left her feeling cheerful, and she was in the mood to have some fun. I know just the thing.
“Hey, are you slammed tonight? Do you have a lot of stuff to get done for tomorrow?”
Rory shook her head. “Just working on this damn commercial, but that doesn’t have to be done until the end of the month. Why?”
“Let’s have a movie marathon.”
Sarah was rewarded by a wide smile from Rory. “I’m always up for that and you know it. What do you have in mind?”
“Lesbian films. Ever seen one?”
Rory frowned in thought. “I saw Kissing Jessica Stein in the theater. Wasn’t impressed. Other than that…can’t think of any.”
Sarah gasped melodramatically. “Here you are, making a queer movie, and you haven’t even seen a representative sample?”
Rory hung her head. “I’m delinquent.”
“For once,” Sarah said, “I’m going to give you a film lesson.” She grabbed the Kingston Pizza menu from their corkboard and thrust it into Rory’s hands. “You order us dinner. I’ll run to the video store. Meet back here at…” Sarah consulted her watch. “No later than 1800 hours.”
Rory saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sarah put her coat back on, patting the inside pocket to make sure her wallet was there. “This is going to be fun,” she said as she opened the door. “I promise.”
“Hurry home, stud,” Rory called after her.
Sarah knew that Rory was just joking around, but the compliment still felt good. I wonder if she really does find me attractive? She shook her head and quickened her pace. It was silly for her to even think that way. Why would it ever matter?
*
“You are a prince among men, Matthew,” Rory said as Matt set down a twelve-pack of beer. She handed him a wad of cash. “Thanks for the speedy delivery.”
“No problemo,” Matt said. His hair was a fluorescent pink today, and it clashed spectacularly with his red jacket. “What’s the occasion?”
“Movie marathon. Pizza’s on its way. I’d invite you, but it’s roommates only.”
“Sounds kinky.”
Rory rolled her eyes and pushed him into the hall. “You have yourself a good evening, perv,” she said as she firmly shut the door in his grinning face.
She whistled as she stashed the beer in the fridge and arranged the beanbag chairs directly in front of the television. Just half an hour ago, she had been anticipating an ordinary night—working on her commercial until she couldn’t stand it anymore, and then playing video games or procrastinating on Facebook. Now she was fidgeting as she waited for Sarah to get back. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do than spend the rest of the day sitting next to her, cracking jokes about the films and critiquing them as they played.
An insistent buzzing noise interrupted her train of thought, and she turned toward the source of the sound. It was Sarah’s cell phone. She’d left it on her desk. Probably Chelsea. I’d better remind her to check it when she gets back. Rory felt a sudden flash of anxiety. What if Chelsea wanted Sarah to do something with her tonight? Would their movie night be called off?
At that moment, Sarah barged into the room, brandishing three discs. Rory felt her heart stutter in her chest, the way it had taken to doing whenever Sarah looked happy. It was beautiful. She was beautiful—beautiful and handsome all at once. A mélange of feminine and masculine—exquisitely androgynous.
“What?” said Sarah. “You’re looking at me funny.”
Shit, Rory thought, realizing that she’d been caught staring. She mentally shoved those thoughts to one side and summoned her best insolent grin. “Yeah, well,” she said. “You’re funny lookin’.”
“Ha ha.” Sarah shed her coat and headed for the bedroom. By now, Rory knew her routine. As soon as Sarah was in for the night, she changed into what she called “grungy clothes.” It was a cute tradition.
“Two comedies and a mob movie,” Sarah called. “How does that sound to you?”
“Lesbian mafia? Seriously?”
Sarah emerged wearing a long-sleeved URI shirt and black sweats. She looked soft and young and carefree. Rory’s heart lurched again, and she quickly turned toward the fridge to avoid Sarah’s scrutiny.
“Not exactly,” Sarah said. “You’ll see.”
When Rory turned back, she was holding two beers. She opened one and handed it to Sarah. “Congrats again on rocking that paper, roomie.”
Sarah looked surprised. “Where’d this come from?”
“Matt, of course.” Rory winked. “He’s my supplier until you turn twenty-one.”
“Oh, I see how it is. Come March, I’ll be your errand girl?”
“You know it.” Rory gestured toward the TV. “Which are we watching first?”
“Red Doors.” Sarah inserted the first DVD and settled back into her chair. She stretched out her long legs in front of her and crossed her ankles. “I guess I’d call it a dramatic comedy. It’s about a Chinese-American family.”
“Cool.” Rory flopped down next to Sarah on the floor as the opening credits rolled. Sarah had clearly been thinking about her in the video store, trying to choose at least one film that she could relate to. You’re sweet, she thought as they shared a smile. Often brooding, sometimes moody, but fundamentally sweet.
“Hey,” she said, as the camera revealed the entire family sitting at dinner. “This is giving me an idea. You should come over sometime during Christmas break. Meet my parents.” She glanced at Sarah, who looked surprised. “What do you think?”
“You really want me to?”
“Um…duh,” Rory said, exasperated. “I just said I did.” Sometimes, Sarah’s insecurities grated on her. Just believe me already, will you?
“Okay then,” Sarah said. She took a long sip of her beer. “That sounds really fun. Thanks.”
Rory nodded, pleased. A visit from Sarah would make the holidays much less boring. And it’ll be good for her, too—to get out of the dorms and see people. She took a sip from her beer and gestured toward the screen. “So. Which of the sisters is gay?”
Sarah rolled her eyes and playfully pushed one of Rory’s feet with her own. “Not going to tell you. Watch the movie.”
*
When Red Doors faded to black, Rory immediately scrambled to her feet and headed for her desk.
“That was really fucking good,” she said. “I need to look it up on IMDB.” As she searched, she heard Sarah gathering up their beer bottles. “Hey, can you get me another?’
“Sure. And I’m glad you liked it.” Sarah set a newly opened bottle near Rory’s right hand and paused to look at the computer screen. “The end always makes me teary. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Rory snorted. “What am I going to do, hijack the campus radio station and make a public service announcement?” She took her hand off her mouse to pat Sarah on the shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me…holy shit!”
“What?”
“Okay, that movie was the director’s first full-length project. Seriously.” Rory whistled. “And it won three awards. One from Tribeca!” She shook her head. “I am fucking impressed.”
“If I admit to not knowing what Tribeca is, does that mean I’m uncultured?”
�
�Naw,” Rory said. “Just ignorant.” She winked. “It’s a film festival in New York City.”
“I may not know much about film,” Sarah said, “but I do know that the next one on our list was made by the same guys who made The Matrix.”
“The Wachowski brothers? Cool. Bring it on.” She sat down, but Sarah hovered near the television, twirling the DVD in her hand.
“This is the mob movie. And I just want to warn you…the beginning is sexy, and the middle and end are violent.”
Rory arched her eyebrows. Sarah was blushing, and it was adorable. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m a video-gamer, remember? Totally desensitized already.”
Sarah looked like she didn’t believe her, but hit Play anyway. “Well, if any of this makes you feel weird, just say the word and I’ll turn it off.”
Rory smiled at Sarah’s needless concern. But as the plot of the film unfolded, she began to rethink her declaration. The obvious sexual tension between the two female protagonists was making her hot. She’d seen women flirting before, of course, but never with the kind of barely controlled ferocity that she was witnessing onscreen. And one of them—Corky—looked kind of like Sarah.
She shifted in her chair, trying for a more comfortable position, but there wasn’t one to be found. I guess I need some quality time with my right hand, Rory thought, amused at her body’s unexpected reaction. But her attention was drawn back to the television when the tension between the two women ratcheted up another notch. Rory leaned forward, spellbound. It really looked like Corky was about to fuck Violet…right there on the couch.
And then the strangest thing happened. Rory suddenly found herself wondering what it would be like to tease Sarah, the way Violet was teasing Corky onscreen. How long would Sarah hold back before finally succumbing to Rory’s seduction? Would her kisses be gentle, or fierce? How would she touch me? Rory could feel herself getting wet, and somewhere in the depths of her brain, an alarm bell was pinging insistently, but she was enthralled by the combined force of the film and her fantasies.