by Nell Stark
“What?” Sarah sat back hard in her chair, feeling dizzy. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, searching desperately for the right words. “That’s…I mean…Rory’s not even queer!”
Chelsea arched one perfect eyebrow, her lips twisted in a sneer. “Doubtful. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. And even if you’re right—so what? You think you’re the first lesbian to fall for a straight girl?”
Sarah shook her head, wondering if she looked as shell-shocked as she felt. In love? With Rory? How could that possibly be? Yes, she was attracted to her. Yes, she had been jealous of Jeff. Yes, she loved spending time with Rory—more, she admitted, than she enjoyed anyone else’s company. But wouldn’t I know if I were in love with her?
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You’re not denying it,” Chelsea said coldly. “That says a lot.”
Sarah sucked in a breath, fully intending to explain that there was no possible way that she could be in love with Rory…and found that she couldn’t speak the words. She sat very still, looking into Chelsea’s bright, angry eyes, and said nothing. The silence was a wedge, driving them apart.
“I think I have my answer,” Chelsea whispered. She got to her feet, yanked her coat off the back of her chair, and walked away without a backward glance.
Sarah reached for her coffee. The cup shook as she lifted it to her mouth. She stared at the chair that Chelsea had just vacated, trying to force her brain to make sense of what had just happened. Why hadn’t she denied it? Could Chelsea possibly be right? Sarah began replaying every significant encounter she’d had with Rory since New Year’s, searching for the truth. But the more she tried to analyze her feelings and motivations, the harder her head began to throb.
“This is useless,” she muttered as she pushed her chair back. Brooding wouldn’t accomplish anything. Frankly, it didn’t matter if she was in love with Rory or not, because Rory certainly wasn’t in love with her.
As she headed for the door, Sarah realized that she was dreading the return to her room. She could never tell Rory what Chelsea had said, of course. And now, it was going to be even harder than before to act “normally.” Whatever that meant.
But when Sarah tried to open their door, she found it locked. Thank God. Once inside, she paused just long enough to throw a few textbooks in her backpack. She could spend the afternoon doing some FRI business and the evening in the library. It would feel good to accomplish something today—to make up, in some karmic way, for the relationship she had just destroyed.
Deep in her left jeans pocket, her phone suddenly vibrated. She fished it out, squinting at the message on the screen: am editing film in studio. thinking about you. how’d it go?
The text made Sarah’s pulse stutter. Thinking about you. It felt good to know that Rory was thinking about her. Really good. Too good.
“Okay, clearly I have feelings for her,” Sarah confessed to the empty room. Unable to help herself, she reread the words, examining them for a deeper significance. The message was friendly. No romantic overtones, no teasing innuendos—just warm and caring. One friend to another. That was all.
An aching, hollow feeling opened up in the center of her chest. Of course she’s not in love with me. She was still crushing on Jeff. Had been for years. Their almost-kiss had been all Sarah’s doing, and thankfully, Rory had had the grace to just laugh it off. To move on.
Chelsea had been wrong about her. But she wasn’t wrong about me.
“Oh, give it a rest. You’re making yourself crazy.” She quickly tapped out a reply to Rory, then shoved the cell back into her pocket and left the room.
Stay focused, she thought as she walked toward the stairwell. Midterms were starting next week, the candlelight vigil would come a week after that, and the election was less than two months away. She couldn’t afford any distractions. Not now.
*
Sarah was just wrapping up a phone call with a nice elderly woman in Brockton who had listened very patiently to her explanation of the issues at stake in the upcoming referendum, when Nancy entered the office. Sarah waved.
“Hi,” Nancy said once Sarah had hung up. “I didn’t expect to see you here this evening.”
“Evening?” Sarah turned toward the window. Sure enough, it was dark outside. “Jeez. What time is it?”
“Almost six. How long have you been at it?”
Sarah shrugged. “A while, I guess. I came in early this afternoon to make a few calls.” She smiled faintly. “I must have hit my stride.”
Nancy laughed. “I think you’re the only person I know who has ever lost track of time while phone canvassing. How did it go?”
“Not too bad.” Sarah stood up, stretched, and turned off her computer monitor. “The way this is breaking down by age demographic is really interesting to me.” She gestured toward her phone. “Take Mrs. Delaney, there, who sounds exactly like my grandmother. She was willing to hear me out, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to vote yes. Most students that I talk to, on the other hand, are all about voting no.”
“The polls are showing exactly that trend,” Nancy said, nodding. “It’s a good sign. If we lose in May, I think it’s safe to say that loss won’t be permanent.”
“If we lose…” Sarah trailed off. Thinking about that made her stomach hurt again. It was a very real possibility, of course. The Rhode Island Attorney General’s move to recognize gay marriages performed in Massachusetts had caused a significant backlash. “What are the latest numbers?”
“Fifty-six to forty-four, in favor of the amendment.” Nancy idly played with one of her earrings, flicking it back and forth. A nervous habit. “It’s going to be close.”
“Yeah,” Sarah said. “Makes me want to get back on the phone.”
“Please take a break,” Nancy urged. “You’ve been going above and beyond, Sarah. Really.” She looked Sarah up and down. “And you seem tired. Is everything okay?”
For a second, Sarah considered telling Nancy about the breakup with Chelsea and her confusion over her feelings for Rory. It would be so nice to just confess everything to someone not involved—someone older, who could give her a sympathetic ear and maybe even some wise advice.
But Nancy didn’t need to hear any of that. She had far too much on her plate, and she probably wanted to get started on whatever project had brought her to the office on a Saturday night. She’s not your mother, Sarah thought bitterly. Just say you’re fine, and be done with it.
“Oh, I’m doing all right,” she said. “A little tired, yeah. Two midterms next week.” She slipped on her coat and shouldered her backpack. “Speaking of which, I’m going to hit the library.”
“Good luck,” Nancy said. “Hang in there.”
Sarah nodded and braced herself for the chill of the February night. As she trudged back toward campus, she slipped both hands into her coat pockets. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of her phone, and she had the sudden urge to check it for any more messages from Rory.
Don’t be pathetic. Gritting her teeth against the impulse, Sarah turned toward the library. It didn’t matter whether Rory had texted her or not. She was going to spend the rest of the evening studying, not obsessing over how she’d managed to develop a crush on her roommate after all, or wallowing in her guilt over Chelsea. If she could just manage to act like everything was fine, maybe it would be.
Maybe.
*
“I have news,” Rory announced. She set her tray down across from Matt’s with a thump. The chocolate milk in her cup sloshed dangerously close to the brim, threatening to spill over onto her mashed potatoes.
“Oh?” Matt arched one blue eyebrow. “Spill it, gossip girl.”
“Sarah broke up with Chelsea this morning.”
“What?” Matt froze, his forkful of mushy green beans poised halfway between the table and his mouth. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Rory reached around the back of her chair and grabbed the cell phone in her right jacket
pocket. Still no message. It had been a whole five…no…almost seven hours, since Sarah’s last text. Dammit. Where are you? Why won’t you talk to me? She wanted to be understanding and patient. After all, Sarah had had a rough day. Maybe she was just one of those people who needed time alone to process. But what if she was angry for some reason? Or what if she’d been in some kind of accident? Or what if—
Matt’s screeching put the brakes on her anxious introspection. “Oh my God, why? What happened? Is Chelsea okay? Is Sarah okay?”
“I don’t know why, exactly,” Rory said as she cut up her breaded chicken. “Sarah didn’t go into details last night. All she said was that she couldn’t be with Chelsea because she wasn’t in love with her.” Rory set her knife down on the tray and stabbed at a piece of meat with her fork. “Last I saw Sarah, she was heading out the door to talk to Chelsea. She texted me after to say that it had been tough but that she was all right. Whatever that means.”
“Jesus.” Matt took a sip from his soda and leaned back in his chair. “Never saw that coming.”
“Me, neither.” For about the thousandth time that day, Rory wondered what had happened after Sarah and Chelsea left the dance.
“I’m glad you told me,” Matt said. “I’ll stop by Chelsea’s room later to check on her.”
Rory nodded. She had no doubt that Chelsea was in need of some comfort, and Matt could be a very good cuddler when necessary. “I just wish Sarah would tell me where she is, so I could do the same.”
Matt froze again, frowning at her. Then he put down his fork, rested his arms on the table, and leaned forward. “What’s going on with you, exactly?”
“Huh?” said Rory, nonplussed by the abrupt change of subject. “What are you talking about?”
“You. And Sarah. You and Sarah.”
“Me and Sarah what?” Rory was starting to feel more than a little panicked. She rubbed suddenly sweaty palms on the legs of her jeans.
“You guys were on the verge of making out at my party,” Matt said. He held up one hand when Rory began to splutter. “I haven’t brought it up because it was really, really obvious that you didn’t want me to. But I have eyes, and I have ears, and you know what, Ror? It looks and sounds to me like you have one hell of a crush on your roommate.”
Rory couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Holy shit, she thought, over the insistent alarm bells in her brain. He’s calling me out. She swallowed hard, but her mouth remained dry.
Matt was watching her intently, but after a long moment of silence, he smiled. It was an expression she’d never seen before—gentle, and almost sad. He reached across the table to grip one of her hands tightly.
“The first time is always scary as hell,” he said quietly. “But it helps to actually say the words. Believe me.”
Rory couldn’t seem to suck in a deep enough breath. Her eyes stung and her head was spinning and she wanted to burst into tears. But she really couldn’t. Not here. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He’s not going to let me off the hook.
Matt squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. His eyes silently encouraged her. Was this how Sarah had felt back at Yale, in that eternal instant before first confessing her attraction to another woman? Who had it been for Sarah? A friend, like Matt? A mentor? Her soon-to-be girlfriend?
She could picture that Sarah easily—her eyes slightly downcast, shoulders hunched, fingers clenching and unclenching as she battled her insecurities. She had been beautiful, Rory was certain. Strong and scared and hopeful and anxious and resolute.
Her mind’s image of past-Sarah shifted into the memory of how she’d looked this morning, on her way out the door. Tired and sad, determined but guilty. Emotionally bruised. Rory would have given anything to take some of that burden off her shoulders. The fact that she couldn’t was still haunting her.
I love you, she thought. Yes, she was desperately attracted to Sarah. And yes, they shared many interests. But this feeling—it wasn’t really about any of that. It was about something else. Something deeper, more essential. I love you. I do.
It wasn’t difficult to accept that. Loving Sarah felt natural and right. Easy. The tricky part, she was coming to understand, was telling someone else. Once the words were out there, she couldn’t take them back. Once the words were out there, people would think differently of her. But what else could she do? Hide in silence forever, paralyzed by the fear that someone would discover her secret? If I do that, I’ll be miserable.
Rory sat up straight and looked Matt in the eye, determined not to suffocate under the weight of her anxieties. “I’m falling for Sarah,” she said, relieved that her voice remained steady. She even managed a crooked smile. “Which means I’m at least bi. Hell…maybe I’m a lesbian.”
Matt squeezed her hand again. “You don’t have to pick, sweetie. Not now, not ever. Not unless you want to. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“Okay.” Rory was feeling a little shaky, all of a sudden. She took a long drink of milk and then gently withdrew her fingers from Matt’s to brush at the corners of her eyes. “Whew. Scary…no shit. Jeez. What a fucking day, huh?”
“I’m proud of you,” Matt said. “I hope you’re proud of you, too.”
Rory rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Mr. Rogers,” she quipped, relieved to be able to fall back on her defensive humor routine. “Where’s your sweater vest?”
Matt ignored her jibe. “So hey, do you need any rainbow pins? Stickers? Flags? I can totally be your supplier.”
“Okay, whoa,” Rory said, tensing up again. “I’m glad I told you. I’m really glad. You were right. It does feel good. It’s a relief. But no one else can know right now, okay?”
“Sure, fine, if that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I need,” Rory said. “Think about it, dude. I should wait at least a few weeks before coming out to Sarah. I don’t think she can handle any more weirdness today.”
“I see your point,” Matt said. He mimed zipping and buttoning his lips, and went back to shoveling green beans into his mouth.
Rory halfheartedly pushed some potatoes around on her plate, but she had lost her appetite. Come to think of it, she was exhausted. I came out today, she thought. I came out. It was exhilarating and scary and humbling, all at once. Suddenly, she felt the urge to do something very normal, like watch a movie or mow down aliens with machine guns.
“I think the adrenaline killed my appetite,” she told Matt. “I’m going to head back to my room.”
“Want company?”
Rory shook her head as she pushed back her chair and picked up her barely-touched tray. “Nah. I’m good. Go find Chelsea.” She tamped down a rush of irrational guilt. “Talk to you later. And…thanks.”
“Anytime, sister,” he said, blowing her a kiss as she walked away.
Sister. She thought about the word as she pulled her hat down over her ears and walked out into the night. She had never particularly relished that label before. Both in school and at home, she’d always been compared unfavorably to Michelle. “You need to focus on getting better grades in math, like your sister did,” her father had often said. And every teacher in both middle and high school had known her as “Rory, Michelle’s sister.”
But now, “sister” didn’t mean standing in someone’s shadow or failing to fulfill someone’s expectations. It meant that she fit in.
Family, she thought, smiling despite the bitter cold. I’m family now.
Chapter Fourteen
Two weeks later
Rory let her head rest against the passenger side window and watched the highway—tinted red by the late afternoon sunlight—slide by. Her eyelids wanted to drift closed, and she fought against the wave of drowsiness. All she had to do was make it through the vigil tonight and then she could get a few days’ rest over the weekend. It didn’t matter that the following week was spring break—neither she nor Sarah was leaving campus. Way too much to do.
She shifted slightly in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Next
to her, Sarah was focusing on the road, while behind them, Matt, Travis, and John were uncharacteristically quiet. We all need a real vacation, Rory thought. Maybe next year we should go to Cancun or something. She could see it now: Sarah playing beach volleyball, sand clinging to her chiseled legs and sweat coating her tight stomach—
“Saa-rah,” Matt whined. “We’re all bored to tears. Put on some music, will you?”
“Sure, okay,” she said. “Rory, would you mind?”
Rory blinked and crossed her legs, trying to subtly ease the ache that her daydream had inspired. She leaned forward to rifle through Sarah’s portable CD case. When she found a Bon Jovi disc, she put it in right away. Almost as good as G&R.
Within seconds, the boys were happily belting out “Living on a Prayer.” Rory smiled but didn’t join in. She sneaked a quick glance at Sarah before returning her gaze to the road. Things had been strange between them—stilted, somehow—since Sarah’s breakup with Chelsea. Rory couldn’t tell whether the weirdness was her doing or Sarah’s or both, but she hated it. She felt as though she were back in the very beginning of their friendship, when Sarah had been nice and polite, but completely closed off. And they hadn’t really hung out at all over the past two weeks—not that there had been time to.
Rory sighed. Maybe that’s all it is. Maybe we’re both just too stressed. It was by far the easiest explanation to stomach, especially since Matt had repeatedly insisted that he hadn’t breathed a word about Rory’s epiphany to anyone. Rory wanted so badly to tell Sarah everything. The impulse burned inside her, and she had caught herself on the precipice of a confession more than once. Although she had once been fairly confident that Sarah returned her feelings, now…she wasn’t. And it scared her. That in itself was unsettling. Unrequited love had never frightened her before. I’m an expert. But whenever she considered the possibility that Sarah didn’t want her and might never…
She shivered and swallowed hard as the now-familiar fear constricted her chest. Quit it. Stop driving yourself crazy. “So hey,” she said, trying to draw Sarah into conversation. “Think we’ll make tomorrow’s papers?”