Homecoming

by Nell Stark

  Sarah scrubbed one palm over her face and through her tousled hair. “Okay, I guess. My mom…she really threw me by calling.”

  Rory frowned. “I should have known it was her. God, I wish I had just asked!”

  Sarah awkwardly rested one hand on Rory’s shoulder in an effort to comfort her. “It’s really, really not your fault. That was always going to happen someday.” She blew out a sigh. “I’m glad it’s over with. For the moment, anyway.”

  “So…you’re not going to do what she asked?”

  “You mean quit FRI and go back home?” Sarah laughed harshly. “No way. If anything, I want to work even harder now. Maybe when the amendment fails, my parents will finally get it into their thick skulls that there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  Rory closed her eyes and exhaled. “Okay. Good. Yeah.”

  “Were you really afraid I’d go?” Sarah asked. The relief on Rory’s face was obvious. It brought warmth to the cold hollow that her mother’s words had opened in her chest.

  Rory shrugged and swung her feet over the bed. When she stood up, Sarah had to clench her teeth to keep from expressing her disappointment. You already asked her to stay once. Don’t drive her off!

  “I was just worried about my Bio grade,” Rory quipped, turning around with the familiar, mocking grin on her face. “If you go, who will make sure I pass the final?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes and let the comment pass, but she could tell that Rory hadn’t said what was really on her mind. Do you need me? she wondered. As much as I need you?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mid-April

  When her alarm went off at six a.m., Rory shut it off immediately and sat up in her bunk, fully awake. Normally, she liked to take her time in the morning—to doze for a while, luxuriating in the warm cocoon of her covers. But today was Election Day, and she needed to get some footage of the polls opening. In an hour. Up and at ’em, she thought as she climbed down the ladder.

  Sarah was still asleep. As she had done for the past two weeks, Rory crouched down, leaned in, and cupped her cheek lightly to wake her. “Sarah,” she said. “Time to get up, babe. C’mon.”

  Sarah stirred and opened bleary eyes. When she smiled, Rory smiled back. It felt so good to know that just by being there first thing in the morning, she could make Sarah happy. “Today’s the big day,” she said, still touching Sarah’s face with gentle fingertips. “You excited?”

  At that, Sarah’s eyes focused and she sat up straight. “Yeah. Jeez. God, I hope…”

  She left the sentence unfinished. Rory nodded before getting to her feet and grabbing her robe from the hook on the back of the closet door. The vote was going to be close—only a few percentage points, if recent polls were any indication. “Me, too.”

  “Go take your shower,” Sarah mumbled, waving her hand toward the door. “I’ll be there soon.”

  Rory couldn’t resist the opening. “Promise?” When Sarah swatted at her playfully, Rory jumped away, laughing. She hurried to the bathroom, ducked into one of the stalls, and brushed her teeth as the water heated up.

  This was going to be a watershed day, one way or another. And not just politically. The past two weeks had been a strange kind of limbo where Sarah was concerned, and Rory had a feeling that something was going to happen soon to snap them out of their stasis. Ever since Sarah’s birthday, they’d been closer than ever—studying together, eating every meal together, meeting up briefly between classes. Nothing decidedly romantic had happened, yet, but Matt had told Rory that people were starting to speculate about the two of them.

  After her talk with her parents, Sarah had needed comfort. Nurturing. Rory had watched her like a hawk for days afterward—bringing her food, trying to distract her whenever she seemed sad, making sure she got as much rest as she could. After a little while, Sarah had seemed much more like her old self, but even if Rory had wanted to make a confession then, there simply hadn’t been time. Last-minute preparations for the election had made both of their lives frenetic.

  Just one more day, Rory thought as the steaming water sluiced over her back. One more day of filming and then she could stop running around like a headless chicken, lock herself in her room, and spend the next two days making final cuts. And maybe, just maybe, this weird stalemate with Sarah would end, too.

  The door to the bathroom opened and closed again. Rory grinned. “I’m in the third stall down,” she called teasingly.

  “If I come in there,” Sarah said, “there’s no way we’re making it to the polls by seven.”

  Rory shivered despite the clouds of steam rising from the water. What would Sarah do? Would she throw the flimsy curtain aside, stalk into the stall, and press Rory hard against the tile wall? Would her tongue fuck Rory’s mouth while her fingers reached down to find Rory wet, throbbing, oh-so-ready? Or would she thrust one leg between Rory’s and tease her nipples while driving her thigh—

  “No witty retort? Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?”

  Rory cursed her overactive imagination as she shut the water off and reached for her towel. “It’s too early for comebacks,” she groused.

  “It’s too early, period. Will you make some coffee?”

  “Your wish, my command,” Rory said, sliding back into her robe. Sarah laughed, of course, because she thought it was a joke.

  But it wasn’t—not really.

  *

  Spring had truly arrived, Sarah realized as she and Rory walked toward Boss Arena. The crocuses were coming up, and the trees were budding. The earth smelled like itself now—rich and loamy and green instead of the crisp, sterile ice-scent of winter. Occasionally, birdsong filtered down from the treetops.

  Sarah felt hopeful. Sure, the election was going to be close. But in the end, how could a majority of Rhode Islanders vote for an amendment that was in direct contradiction with equal rights? Especially given the shining example of Massachusetts. She smiled, envisioning the celebratory atmosphere in the FRI office late tonight when the results had been totaled.

  “It’s kind of strange to be voting in the hockey arena,” Rory said, adjusting the position of her camera bag on her shoulder. “I mean, wouldn’t it be crazy if they still had the ice on the floor, and you had to slip and slide into your booth?”

  Sarah had to giggle. That mental image was just too much. “You’re a weirdo.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Rory fired back. “Think about it—Election Day Ice Capades!”

  That kept Sarah laughing until they reached the front doors of the arena. She hung back and watched as Rory spoke to the election officials about where she’d be able to set up her camera. Rory was wearing olive cargo pants and a black hooded Nirvana sweatshirt. She kept having to push her hair back in the breeze, and Sarah was fascinated by the graceful movements of her hands.

  Those hands. They had touched her so often in the past few weeks—always gently, always in comfort. Whenever Sarah thought about how she had let her guard down in front of Rory on her birthday, she got more than a little scared. Rory had seen her when she was pure need—vulnerable and hurting. But unlike Dar, Rory hadn’t been scared off. She hadn’t turned her back.

  I loved her before. But it’s even stronger, now. Sarah looked over to where Rory was assembling her tripod. Every morning when Rory woke her up, Sarah struggled not to kiss her. Every time Rory handed her a mug of chai, Sarah forced her fingers not to brush Rory’s knuckles. Every time Rory hugged her, Sarah fought off the impulse to press her lips to the side of Rory’s neck. Loving Rory and not being able to express her feelings was a constant struggle. Suppressing the impulse was tiring.

  “Hey, go get in line,” Rory called, pointing at the short line of people in front of the arena’s massive double doors. “I’ll start filming once you’re there.”

  “What a demanding director, jeez,” Sarah said, huffing a sigh. When Rory stuck out her tongue, she couldn’t resist another jab. “Sorry, I don’t French long distance.”

&
nbsp; That did it. Rory cracked up. “French long distance? That’s the lamest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

  “You thought it was funny, though,” Sarah pointed out. She would make every corny joke in the book and then some, if it meant that she got to be responsible for Rory’s laughter.

  “Get. Over. There,” Rory insisted. “It’s almost seven, and I want footage of the poll’s opening moments.”

  This time, Sarah obeyed. She rocked back on her heels and looked from her watch to the doors. She couldn’t wait to get into her booth, find the marriage question on the ballet, uncap her black marker, and fill in the middle half of the arrow pointed at “REJECT.”

  “All right, everyone,” called one of the officials. “We’re opening the doors. Please follow the signs to the registration area.”

  Sarah paused to grin at the camera and give Rory the thumbs-up. And then she ducked inside the arena, intent on doing her part to make history.

  *

  “Hey, guys,” Sarah said to a group of students on their way out of Roger Williams. “Have you voted yet today?” Without waiting for an answer, she began distributing small, grainy maps of campus that displayed Boss Arena as a large star. “Anybody ever been to see a hockey game?”

  “Uh, I’m on the team,” said one of the guys, looking mildly annoyed.

  “Oh!” Sarah gave him her most winning grin. “Cool. Well, that’s the polling place. So if you head over there by nine o’clock, you’ll be able to cast your vote.” She looked at her watch and raised her eyebrows. “It’s almost 8:30, so you’ll want to hurry.”

  “What’s the big deal?” asked one of the girls. “It’s not a presidential election.”

  Sarah grinned. A comment like that was the perfect lead-in to the speech she’d perfected months ago about the amendment. “There’s a really important question on the ballot,” she explained, “about whether Rhode Island’s state constitution should be amended such that marriage is defined as between one man and one woman, and such that no legal states like marriage would be valid for unmarried people.”

  A few of them looked confused, so she hurried to clarify. “Basically, the amendment would make it so that gays and lesbians can’t marry, and so that civil unions—for gay or straight people—wouldn’t be allowed.”

  “Oh, okay,” the girl said. “Thanks.”

  “Sure,” Sarah said. She watched them leave, mentally crossing her fingers that they would cast their votes against the amendment, and looked back down at her watch. It didn’t really make sense to stay here any longer, since the polls closed in less than half an hour.

  She began to pack up the supplies from the table where she’d been sitting—stacks of maps, FRI brochures, and colorful signs urging everyone to Vote No all went into a box. Rory had stopped by earlier for about an hour to get some footage before moving on to some of the other locations where FRI employees and volunteers were trying to mobilize the student body. Sarah missed her, of course, and the knowledge that she’d get to see Rory again soon made her clean up quickly.

  This is it, she thought as she carried the box outside into the cool night. The nearly full moon blinked fitfully at her as feathery clouds scudded across the sky. In a matter of hours, we’ll know. Nancy had invited all employees and volunteers to the FRI office to watch the compiling of the results. Suddenly impatient to know what the exit polls were projecting, Sarah dug her cell out of her pocket and hit speed-dial.

  “Hey,” Rory said, a moment later. She had to speak loudly to make herself heard over other voices and the sound of a television in the background. “Exit polls are showing us just slightly ahead at the moment.”

  “Sweet!” Sarah grinned broadly. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Better hurry,” Rory said. “The pizza just got here and everyone’s starved.”

  “I’m hurrying.” Sarah ended the call and quickened her steps. She was hungry, too. It had been one of the busiest days of her life, and she hadn’t eaten a substantial meal all day.

  When Sarah finally shoved the FRI office door open, a cheer went up. She set her box down on the floor and smiled. “You love me, you really love me.”

  “You’re the last one back,” Nancy said.

  “I saved you some pizza,” Rory said, gesturing to the table.

  She was squeezed into the far corner of the room next to her tripod. A small TV perched on Sarah’s desk. The floors and chairs were packed with people. Everyone even remotely affiliated with the Kingston FRI office had apparently decided that this was the place to watch the election results. Even Chelsea, who still hadn’t spoken more than a few words at a time to Sarah since their breakup, was there.

  Sarah grabbed her pizza and found an empty few feet of wall to lean against next to Rory. “Am I okay here?” she asked. “Not blocking anything?”

  “You’re good,” Rory said, adjusting her camera with one hand and holding a slice of pizza in the other.

  “So,” Sarah said, “just how busy are you going to be for the next few days?” It was a Tuesday, and Rory had to turn in her completed film in class on Friday. Silently, Sarah vowed to do everything in her power to make it easy for Rory to work. Including staying out of her way, if that was what she needed most.

  Rory made a face. “Let’s just put it this way: no sleep till Brooklyn. And I’m already so wiped.”

  Sarah winced. “You’re going to let me help you out, right? However I can?”

  “I will absolutely play on your sympathy,” Rory said, sparing her a quick grin. “You can be my official Jolt supplier, and—”

  “Quiet!” Matt screeched, pointing to the television, where the news anchor was describing the updated exit poll results. When she announced that the election was now too close to call, Sarah frowned. A few people groaned.

  Rory whispered, “Dammit.”

  “Chins up, people,” Nancy reminded them all. “These aren’t the real results yet. We always knew it’d be close.”

  Sarah had been about to take a bite of her second slice of pizza, but her rising anxiety quashed her appetite. In an effort to distract herself, she turned to watch Rory fiddling with the camera. “So…once you’ve turned a copy of the movie in to your prof, can I see it?”

  “You surely may,” Rory said. “In Independence Auditorium, even, a week from tomorrow. The film department always has a film festival at the end of the academic year for final projects, senior theses, et cetera.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. “That’s really cool. Can I sneak popcorn inside?”

  Rory patted her on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, babe.”

  They hushed up as the commercials ended, but Sarah was only half paying attention to what was happening onscreen. Babe. She loved when Rory called her that. Or “baby.” Those particular terms of endearment had always seemed strange to her—juvenile, somehow. Until now. They were Rory’s words, and she loved them.

  Besotted. That’s what I am. Completely besotted.

  “We’re now getting the first reports from several polling places throughout southern Rhode Island,” the news anchor said. “Thus far, our results show that a slim majority of Rhode Islanders favor the proposed amendment to the constitution that would define marriage as between one man and one woman. The numbers are currently fifty-one percent for, forty-nine percent against.”

  “What?” said Sarah, unable to believe what she had just heard. Is this for real? “But—”

  “Don’t worry,” Rory said, resting one hand on her forearm. “That’s just a small slice of the pie.” She squeezed lightly. “This isn’t over yet.”

  “It drives me crazy when they simplify the issue like that,” Kelly said. “What about the whole second half of the amendment?”

  “It’s the most complicated part,” Nancy pointed out.

  “And the part that cuts into heterosexual rights as well as homosexual ones,” Sarah said bitterly. Her stomach was roiling. We really might lose, she realized. Intellectually, she
had known that it was a possibility. But now, with the numbers and pie charts staring coldly at her from the television, she finally felt the truth of it all. We might lose. After all of this hard work, all the effort…

  “Hey,” Rory said, nudging her. “You okay? Talk to me.”

  “Yeah.” Sarah dumped her plate into a garbage can and pressed two fingers to her temples. “I guess I just…I didn’t…”

  “It’s one thing to know that the race is tight,” Rory said quietly. “It’s another thing to see it playing out that way.”

  Sarah met Rory’s gaze, incredulous. How did she know exactly what I was thinking? “Yeah,” she said, hearing the roughness in her voice. “Exactly.” And I’m scared.

  Updates were coming in frequently, now, and the room fairly vibrated with tension. At one point, the numbers evened out again. But only ten minutes later, the vote had tipped back in favor of the amendment.

  Ten o’clock came and went—then eleven. Sarah’s eyes were burning with exhaustion. She pressed the heels of her hands against them before returning her focus to the television. Please, she thought, directing her silent plea to all of the polling places that had not yet reported in. Please, just…please.

  “We now have the final results of today’s election,” the anchor finally said.

  Sarah sucked in a deep breath, staring intently at the screen. Please. When one of Rory’s hands found hers, she latched on gratefully. Their sweating palms slipped together—a perfect fit. She squeezed Rory’s hand gently as the anchor read off the winners in various state- and county-wide races. And then—

  “In one of the closest referendums in state history, fifty-two percent of Rhode Islanders voted today that the constitution should be amended to include a clause that defines marriage as between one man and one woman, and makes the creation of civil unions or similar institutions invalid.”

  Rory squeezed Sarah’s hand so hard that she thought her bones might shift. Sarah welcomed the pain. It echoed the growing ache between her breasts. No. It was all she could think. No, dammit. No no no.