by Nell Stark
“What the fuck?” Matt said into the shocked silence. “Who the hell votes against civil rights?”
Pushing off the wall and away from Rory, Sarah moved forward to squint in disbelief at the television. “But we worked so hard,” she said. Her head felt fuzzy and her fingers numb, and how, how could this happen? “So damn hard.”
Everyone started talking at once, then, until Nancy turned off the television and cleared her throat. “Sarah’s right, everyone,” she said. “We worked hard. We should be proud. I know that the results didn’t go the way we wanted them too, but just you wait. It won’t be long before this and every other law discriminating on the basis of sexual orientation will be overturned.”
She smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. Sarah wondered what it was costing her of all people to put on a brave face in the immediate aftermath of this defeat.
“We lost a battle, not the war,” Nancy continued. “When I wake up tomorrow, I’m going to do the same thing I always do—devote my day to equal rights. I’m going to fight the war every single second.”
She looked around the room, meeting the eyes of her employees, her friends, her volunteers. “Liberty and justice for all. I believe in that, and I know you do, too. I believe that the United States has a good system—imperfect, but good. I believe that we are doing exactly the right thing—exposing and working to change the parts of that system that are weak. I’m proud of us. And I’m so grateful to all of you, for what you’ve accomplished over the past several months.”
“Hear, hear!”
Someone started the applause, and within seconds, every person in the room was on their feet. Sarah knew exactly what she was clapping for—for Nancy’s leadership, for her colleagues’ courage and dedication, for herself. Nancy was right, of course. This was only the end of a chapter in Rhode Island’s battle for equality. So much of the book had yet to be written. I won’t give up either, she promised, blinking against the tears of frustration that threatened to spill over.
When the applause ended, Sarah retreated to the wall, leaned back against it, and closed her eyes. She had a dull headache, and the familiar tightness that so often haunted her shoulders was back. Why? she asked again, thinking of those who had voted for the amendment. People like her parents. What good, sound reason did they have? Why?
Fighting to breathe and not to sob, Sarah remained motionless until Rory’s hand covered her shoulder. “Hey,” Rory said. Her voice sounded as tired as Sarah felt, and hollow. “Come on. Let’s go home.”
“Okay,” Sarah said dully.
“Do you want to say good-bye to Nancy first?” asked Rory, pointing in her direction.
Sarah shook her head. If she talked to Nancy, she would burst into tears. She knew it. “Not right now,” she managed. “I just…I just want to sleep.” And wake up in a kinder, fairer world.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
They walked back to campus slowly. The night smelled as good as the morning had—clean and fresh, like springtime—but Sarah could find no joy in the promise of renewal. Beneath her exhaustion and disappointment, anger simmered, waiting its turn to boil over.
“Do you feel…empty, kinda?” asked Rory as they entered Hutchinson and headed for the stairs. “It’s like—like a pumpkin on Halloween. Like someone scooped out all my insides.”
“I feel like I want to punch somebody,” Sarah grated, surprising even herself with the vehemence of her words. She wanted to take them back, but now that her rage had been uncorked, it continued to spill over.
“I mean…what the hell is wrong with people? I am not a freak! I’m not asking for special treatment!” She followed Rory into the room and stood just inside the door, her entire body trembling. “My parents are wrong to treat me the way they do. I know it! But now, thanks to this goddamn amendment, they’ll feel justified!”
She slapped her palm hard on the wooden surface, perversely glad of the sting that vibrated through her hand and into her wrist. “I’m not trying to be some fucking rebel or social anarchist or…or, I don’t even know what! I’m just trying to be me.” Sarah took a deep, shuddering breath and stared hard into Rory’s wide eyes. “This is who I am! What’s so wrong with me, and Matt, and Chelsea and Nancy and John and Travis and God knows how many others…why the fuck should we have to live with being treated like trash?”
She slumped to the floor, then, her back sliding against the door. Leaning her head on her knees, she took a deep, hitching breath. Her head was on fire and her throat felt raw from yelling and she was tired, so very tired. Poor Rory, a still-lucid corner of her brain thought. I must be scaring her half to death.
“And me,” Rory said softly.
Sarah raised her head, blinking. “And you?”
Rory nodded, coming closer. “You were listing names. Matt and Chelsea and Nancy and John and Travis…and me.” She swallowed audibly. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for months now, ever since I realized. I’m—I’m queer.”
*
Rory waited several seconds for some kind of response, but when Sarah just continued to stare up at her, she shrugged self-consciously. “Uh, surprise,” she said with a sickly smile, trying to make light of her revelation. You idiot! Why did you have to spill it now, when she’s completely overwhelmed already?
She jerked her head toward the bedroom. “I’m, ah, going to get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow and all. So. Um, good night.??? Realizing that she was babbling, she hurried to get out of Sarah’s sight.
Can this day get any worse? she thought as she stripped off her clothes. The thought of going back over the footage she had just shot—the footage of everyone’s stunned and dismayed reactions to the election—was about as appealing as the cafeteria’s green bean mush. At least I got the guts to come out today, she considered glumly, even though my timing sucks. Even so, Rory couldn’t help but feel that the enormity of tonight’s defeat rendered her small, personal victory practically meaningless.
Naked, she reached into the dresser for her pajamas. She wanted to fall into bed, burrow under the covers, and wake up when it was time for summer vacation. But at the sound of a low, choking noise behind her, Rory spun to see Sarah standing a few feet away. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her short, sharp breaths whistled through her teeth.
“Rory,” she said in a voice that sounded pained. When she took a step forward into the pool of light cast by the standing lamp, Rory saw her expression. Need. Sarah’s face was taut with need, and her shining eyes felt like spotlights. A rush of adrenaline left Rory feeling dizzy.
“I can’t…dammit, if you can’t pretend anymore, then neither can I.”
Finally. It was the only coherent thought she could manage, before she was hopelessly overwhelmed by the most intense kiss of her life. Sarah’s lips were forceful, insistent, constantly moving in an effort to be closer. Her tongue plunged repeatedly into Rory’s mouth, stealing precious oxygen. One of Sarah’s hands cradled the back of Rory’s head and the other squeezed the soft skin just above her hipbone while their teeth clashed and their bodies molded together and God, oh God, Sarah, this was it—the passion she had been waiting for all her life.
Sarah pulled back, panting. Her eyes were dark and wild, and Rory felt a thrill that she could affect Sarah—Sarah, of all people—so strongly. In one fluid motion, Sarah took off her shirt. When she removed her bra as well, Rory sat down hard on Sarah’s bunk. Her breasts were small and firm, in perfect proportion to her lean arms and torso. She looked like some kind of Greek god—regal and androgynous.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Rory whispered hoarsely.
Sarah shook her head once. “No, you.”
For one insane moment, Rory wondered whether this seduction scene was going to pause while she and Sarah argued the point like third graders. But then Sarah was urging her to lie down on the mattress, and then Sarah was looming over her, sliding one leg between Rory’s and leaning down to kiss her hard again. The sensation of Sarah�
��s breasts brushing against her own made Rory moan around Sarah’s tongue.
Sarah’s hands cupped Rory’s face and she kissed her even harder. Rory clutched at Sarah’s shoulders as she was consumed, urging Sarah closer. The muscles of Sarah’s back contracted under Rory’s hands and she dug in hard with her fingertips. She was dizzy with lack of breath but couldn’t bear to pull even an inch away.
When Sarah jerked up her head, gasping for air, she stared at Rory for a long moment. The intensity of Sarah’s gaze burned her soul. For one exhilarating instant, she felt like she was back on her swing set, rising up toward the pale November moon.
“I need to touch you,” Sarah whispered.
Rory pulled her head back down. “I need you to,” she said against Sarah’s mouth.
Sarah exhaled hard and immediately skimmed her fingers down across Rory’s collarbone. When her hand closed gently around one breast, Rory shuddered. When her thumb slid across Rory’s nipple, every muscle in Rory’s body tensed at the surge of pleasure. And when Sarah pressed down, moving her thumb in tiny circles, Rory’s back arched involuntarily.
“Oh God. Yes.”
Rory fought to keep watching Sarah, but when Sarah’s mouth closed over her other nipple, the sensation was too intense. Her eyes slammed shut and she groaned, deep in her throat. Sarah swirled her tongue as she sucked, and it was so damn good that Rory almost missed the feeling of Sarah’s palm sliding down over her ribs to rest in the dip between her leg and abdomen.
Her hips lifted of their own accord. The ache between her thighs was suddenly unbearable. She needed Sarah to be inside of her, the way she’d never needed anyone before. Oh please. Please.
Sarah lifted her head from Rory’s breast. “Look at me,” she murmured.
Rory forced her eyes open. Sarah’s gaze was tender and hungry at the same time, and Rory reached one trembling hand out to cup the side of her face. “Watch me touch you.”
“Yes,” Rory whispered.
Sarah bit her lower lip as she shifted her fingers. Rory trembled violently and clutched hard at the blanket when Sarah brushed her clit. The touch was fleeting and only sharpened her need. But when she bucked her hips, trying to maintain contact, Sarah brought her other hand down to press firmly on Rory’s abdomen. She shook her head, a faint grin playing around the corners of her mouth.
Rory didn’t think it was possible to get any more aroused, but Sarah’s gentle restraint was driving her crazy. She could feel herself becoming impossibly wet. “Sarah,” she said hoarsely. “God, plea—”
She cried out when Sarah returned to her clit, circling it lightly. Rory felt her self-control slipping away as Sarah’s fingers moved deliberately against her. She whimpered in need, and every muscle in her body was taut with desire. When Sarah changed the motion of her fingers, slipping up and over instead of around, Rory groaned and spread her legs even wider.
“I want to be inside you,” Sarah said. She looked fierce and uncertain all at once, and Rory loved her for it.
“Yes,” Rory whispered again. Her lips were dry and her nerves were on fire, but she needed Sarah to know the truth. “I’ve never…I mean…” Be in me. A part of me. “I want it to be you, Sarah.”
But Sarah didn’t lean down to kiss her. She didn’t push one finger into Rory’s body, easing the desperate and unfamiliar ache. She didn’t murmur something romantic or soothing or erotic.
She froze. And then she pulled away. Rory’s body screamed in protest at the loss of contact. Even in the dim light, she could see the change come over Sarah. She watched helplessly as the hunger on her face gave way to fear.
“Sarah?” She propped herself up on both elbows, blinking furiously. “What is it, baby?”
Sarah stood up and backed toward the door. “Rory,” she said, holding out one hand even as she continued to move backward. “I—I’m sorry.”
“What?” A surge of dread overwhelmed any self-consciousness that Rory might have felt. I’m losing her. She sat up on the bed, determined not to let Sarah out of her sight. “Why the hell are you sorry? What are you talking about? What just happened?”
“I can’t do this to you. I won’t.”
“Do this? Do what?” Rory could hear her voice becoming shrill, but the panic made it hard to think. “Kiss me? Touch me? Make love to me?” Rory took a deep, shuddering breath. “I want all of that from you. You know I do.”
Sarah was shaking her head vehemently as she pulled up her jeans. “No. You can’t.”
“Why the fuck not? Because I just came out?” Rory stood up, stark naked, determined to prove to Sarah just how wrong she was. “I’ve been wanting you ever since fall semester, you idiot.”
“No! I am not going to ruin your life!” Sarah shouted, halting Rory in her tracks. “I’ve met your family. What the hell do you think this will do to them?”
Rory just stared, momentarily stunned. That’s what all of this was about? Her family? But of course it was—when Sarah’s parents had discovered that she was gay, they’d rejected her. And she thinks mine will do the same. Fuck.
“It’s not like that,” she said, trying to make her voice calm. Soft. “They’re not going to—”
“You can’t say that! You don’t know.” Sarah had pulled on her bra and a long-sleeved shirt. Rory was getting increasingly desperate. Sarah was clearly on the verge of leaving.
How can I stop her? How can I make her understand? “You don’t get it,” she said, her words tripping over themselves as she tried to find a way to make Sarah comprehend the truth. “Yeah, they’ll be surprised, and not exactly happy about it, but they’re not going to kick me out or cut me off. I swear it.”
“That’s what you think,” Sarah said. She was bracing herself against the doorframe and her breaths were shallow and quick. “But are you sure? Of course you’re not.”
“Are you telling me that you know my family better than I do?” Rory was getting angry now—angry on top of frightened. She glared at Sarah, even as the slice of her brain that could still think rationally pointed out that Sarah probably needed calm reassurance, not a verbal sparring partner.
“I’m saying that I love you!”
Rory’s mouth dropped open and her pulse spiked and she sat back down, totally in shock. She loves me. My God. Sarah. Loves me. How did that—
“I love you and I care about you and I need you to be happy!” Sarah continued, clearly on the edge of tears. “So stay the hell away from me. You hear that? Stay away.”
And then she was gone. A second later, Rory heard the door slam behind her. She stared blankly at the wall for several seconds before cradling her head in her hands.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!” Suddenly enraged, she kicked viciously at the bottom drawer, only to curse again as pain shot through the top of her foot. “Goddammit!”
This had really not been a good day—first, the lost election, and now Sarah’s panicked retreat. Rory’s body still throbbed with desire, and her toes were probably swelling, and she had a sinking feeling that Sarah wasn’t just going to return in a few minutes and admit that she had overreacted.
Fuck. Everything is so messed up. Finally, she got to her feet and pulled on her pajamas. She eyed the ladder for a second, before flopping down onto Sarah’s bed. If she came home tonight, Rory would be sure to know. And if she didn’t…the sheets and pillow smelled like her. They were a poor substitute for the feeling of Sarah’s body pressing hers into the mattress, but they were better than nothing.
Rory inhaled deeply and focused on calming her racing heartbeat. Everything would be better in the morning, of course. Sarah would come home and she’d actually start listening and they’d kiss and make up and she’d finish what she had started. And there would be a recount of the ballots, which would reveal that the anti-amendment faction had won, after all.
And money would start growing on trees. And there would be peace on earth, goodwill toward men.
Right.
Chapter Seventeen
To her left, the ocean appeared briefly. The wind was up, and whitecaps shimmered in the intermittent moonlight. For one wild, irrational moment, Sarah wanted to yank her steering wheel hard enough to send her car flying down into the surf. It would be so easy. Probably painless. Her parents wouldn’t be too sad, seeing as they’d already cut her out of their lives. Rory would take it hard at first, but eventually, she’d move back to Jeff. Where she belongs.
Her fingers tightened on the wheel, but she continued along the sinuous path of the road as it wound closer and closer to Wakefield. For whatever reason, she was incapable of yielding to her death drive. Hope just kept on springing eternal, refusing to let her off the hook. Even now—even after she’d lost it with Rory and all of her hard work for FRI looked as though it had been for nothing—she just couldn’t lie down and give up.
But I want to. It’d be…easier.
Her lips still burned from Rory’s kisses. She pressed one finger against them, remembering how good, how right it had felt to give in to her desire. When she inhaled, Rory’s scent made her stomach clench. I touched her. She let me. She wanted me to.
“No,” Sarah said out loud, returning her right hand to the wheel and pressing harder on the gas pedal. Rory didn’t know what she wanted. She was confused. She was only beginning the coming-out process. She had admitted that herself. What if she was just curious, or wanting to experiment? And even if Rory did feel the way she claimed to, how could Sarah allow herself to be the one to rip Rory’s family apart?
Suddenly realizing where she was, Sarah hit the brakes hard. Her car jerked to a stop in front of Corrie’s driveway. The Vote No sign was still standing next to the mailbox. Sarah winced as a hot rush of anger and sadness welled up to press behind her eyes. Dammit.