by Robin Talley
“Do we have any glue left at all?” Lori asked as we gathered up the leftover barrettes.
“Maybe a little?” I checked the gun. “Enough to do the bead rings tomorrow at least.”
Lori smiled. “Remember those barrettes we made in sixth grade? The music notes with the pink and black sequins? Mine was supposed to be a treble clef but it came out looking like a disco alien. I think that was the first time I ever used a glue gun by myself.”
“It was mine, too. I got glue all over my jeans. I tried to hide them so my mom wouldn’t get mad, but later she found them at the bottom of my closet stuck to a pile of old magazines. She took away my phone for two weeks.”
“I got glue in my hair. Remember? I tried to get it out with peanut butter but we only had the chunky kind and my whole head was a congealed mess. You had to come back over and it still took hours to get it out.”
“Oh, wow, I’d forgotten about that!” I laughed. “That was so gross. Anyway, hey, listen, you go back in. I’ll finish cleaning up.”
Lori looked around at the glue spots and ribbon fragments strewn across the blankets. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You’ve been doing most of the work this whole time. I’ve got to make up for it.”
“Okay.” Lori didn’t need more convincing. She waved as she walked back toward the work site. Being friends with Lori was way better than being in a fight with her.
She and I had analyzed every detail of everything that had happened with Christa. (Well, not every single detail—there were some very specific parts of our weekend in Texas that I was keeping to myself. But we’d talked about all the really big stuff.)
Lori’s theory was that Christa was on the verge of breaking up with Steven for real. For me. I acted as though I didn’t care either way, but I was almost desperate she was right.
But something else was bothering me. Something I hadn’t told Lori or Christa.
It had been a day and a half now since I’d had sex, and I still felt kind of, well. The same.
I’d thought crossing that particular threshold would trigger some kind of shift in me, but I still seemed to be regular old Aki. Albeit a version of Aki who knew a lot more than she did before about how to have sex with a girl.
It wasn’t what I’d expected. That’s all.
I shook the blankets until I had a little pile of ribbon pieces. I was scooping them into a baggie so we could save them for our next project when I heard footsteps walking toward me.
I recognized those footsteps right away. I’d heard them every day since I was born.
“Sweetheart?” Dad loomed over me. “Can I talk to you about something?”
I looked up. He’d taken off his baseball cap, and his face was grave.
Oh, God. Had Nick already sent out the picture? If Christa’s parents found out—
Oh, God. Oh, God.
“Aki? Are you all right?” Dad squatted down next to me and felt my forehead. “You look shaky.”
“I’m fine,” I choked out.
Did he know what had happened in Texas, too?
My parents had never said I wasn’t allowed to have sex. Drew had sex in high school. They must’ve known that, right? I mean, they weren’t delusional.
But this wasn’t only about me having sex. This was about me liking girls.
Was I ready for my dad to know that?
Did it even matter if I was?
“You sure you’re all right?” Dad looked worried. “Here, let me help you. Are you taking all this back to the church?”
“Yeah,” I said as Dad bent down to gather up the blankets. “Thanks.”
I climbed unsteadily to my feet with the glue gun and supplies. Dad rolled all the blankets into a bundle and lifted them onto his shoulder. The pile of blankets was a lot bigger than his head, so it made for a pretty funny sight.
He wasn’t acting like he was mad at me. I started to calm down a little.
“Everyone’s talking about your debate on Friday,” Dad said as we walked. “Do you think you have everything you need?”
“Hopefully.” We started down the road to the church, dirt kicking up around our sneakers. “Thanks for getting Reverend Perez to let us use his courtyard. The only thing I’m stressed about now is my speech on health care. We’ve been so busy organizing everything I haven’t had a chance to write it.”
“Well, you already know your material,” Dad said. “That gives you a leg up on the others.”
“I guess.”
“You know, I’m very impressed with how you’ve gotten the kids here to focus on this.” Dad switched the blanket bundle from his right shoulder to his left. We were almost at the church. “I’d been worried they all saw this trip as a purely social experience—making new friends, that sort of thing—instead of taking time to reflect on their spiritual journeys and the importance of the work we’re doing here. But now instead of talking about who likes who, I’m hearing kids your and Drew’s age talking about how the church should approach important social justice issues. And as far as I can tell, that’s your doing. I know you’ve missed having music in your life, but I think there’s a lot to be said for taking up worthwhile new interests, too.”
I smiled and dropped my head as we climbed the steps. “It was really Jake who started it.”
“Nonetheless.” Dad dumped the blankets in an empty corner of the room. He was sweating. “You can tell Jake I’m quite pleased with the pair of you.”
“Thanks.” I was still embarrassed.
“Now then.” Dad fanned his face with his hand. “There’s something I want to ask you. It’s a little, well, delicate.”
Oh, no. He did know.
Should I deny it? Tell him the photo was faked?
Maybe I should tell him about Christa’s boyfriend. He could check with Christa’s parents and know I was telling the truth. Christa would probably appreciate that.
Except if I did that, I’d just be lying again.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God...
“It has to do with your brother.” Dad cleared his throat.
Oh. I was somehow relieved and also...not. “What’s up?”
“You see, well...” Dad’s eyes fixed on the stack of blankets. “I know you and Drew tell each other things you don’t tell your mother and me sometimes, and that’s fine.” He looked up at me. I swallowed. “But after what he said the other day, I’m hoping you’ll tell me if there’s something bigger going on with him. You know, besides this—this idea of his.”
I swallowed. “Have you asked him?”
Dad shook his head. “He’s been avoiding me since we talked. I know he’s still angry with me, and I understand that, but I’m afraid there’s something he’s not telling me. It’s in a parent’s nature to worry, after all.”
I sat down on the blanket pile to buy some time. Dad sat next to me. The blankets sank under his weight until we were basically sitting on the floor, but I didn’t complain.
Dad was right. He and Mom always worried about us. It was annoying how they demanded to know every single thing that was going on in our lives.
Dad especially was obsessed with giving advice. I didn’t know if it was because he was a minister or just because he was a dad, but he always tried to act as if he understood everything. Like he was hip to the teen speak or whatever. Any time he tried it with me I always ended the conversation as soon as possible.
But this—Drew leaving us, doing the one thing that would break Dad’s heart—this wasn’t some high school drama. This was a serious life decision. Drew needed our parents’ advice this time. And Dad didn’t know what Drew had told me in the airport that day—that he was failing out of school.
It would be so easy to tell. Let it all spill out and let my father figure out how to deal with it, the way I
’d done with Juana’s guitar.
But my brother had kept my secret. I had to keep his.
“Give him time,” I said. “If there’s something going on, he’ll tell you.”
Dad studied me. I met his eyes and kept my lips firmly sealed.
“All right, then.” Dad dusted off his jeans and stood up. “Oh, and before I forget, tell your friends to be careful if they go out after dark. Someone tried to break into the Riveras’ guest house last week. They didn’t take anything, but it was clear someone had been inside, so they put a new lock on the door. But you should all watch out. You never know who’s around at night in a town like this.”
“Oh, um...” I swallowed again. “Okay, thanks. I’ll tell people.”
Dad started toward the door.
He was just stepping over the threshold when I stood up, too.
I couldn’t do this any longer.
“Daddy?” He turned around, his face solemn and resigned, as if he’d known I’d call him back. “There is something I need to tell you. It isn’t about Drew, though.”
“Oh?” Dad’s face was neutral. Unreadable.
“Yeah. I—” I closed my eyes. I had to just say it. “I’m bi. I mean, bisexual.”
God, it was so hard saying the word sexual to my dad. It was so hard saying any of this.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I opened my eyes. Dad’s face was still a mask. I couldn’t tell if that was a sympathetic Oh, sweetheart or an aghast Oh, sweetheart.
“I didn’t know if I should tell you.” I swallowed. Then I swallowed again. My throat was tight. “And Mom. I didn’t know what you’d think.”
Dad didn’t answer right away. In the dim light, I could see his face changing ever so slightly.
Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe Christa was right to keep secrets.
Maybe Dad couldn’t handle this. Maybe this really was crushing him.
“Sweetheart,” Dad said. “Baby girl. Of course you were right to tell us.”
I burst into tears.
I didn’t even feel it coming on. One second I was standing there, holding it together fine, and the next I was a complete wreck.
Dad had his arms around me before I’d even seen him move. Hugging me tight, the way he used to do when I was little, rocking me back and forth. Except now I was almost as tall as he was, so instead of crying into his stomach I was crying into his shoulder, my tears soaking his sweaty T-shirt.
“Sweetheart, it’s fine, it’s all just fine.” He stroked my braids softly. “You know all your mother and I want is for you and your brother to be happy. We love you, and we know you’ll find someone you love someday, too. All we care about is that whoever that person is, they’re just as proud of you as we are.”
I sniffed and pulled back. “Really?”
“Really.” Dad squeezed my arm while I wiped at my face. “This isn’t—well, you know, your mom and me, we’re a different generation. We didn’t grow up knowing about this kind of thing the way you and Drew did. But times are different now, and we knew there was a possibility our kids might, well, turn out differently than we did. You can talk to your mother more when you get back home, but trust me when I say that we both support you, and we love you no matter what.”
I wiped my eyes again. The tears were still falling. God, I was so embarrassing.
“Does this have anything to do with why you and Lori have been fighting?” Dad squeezed my arm again. “I know you two have always been very close, so...”
“So...?” I brushed the tears away. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “What, you think Lori and me—”
I broke off, laughing. Dad looked more confused than ever, which only made me laugh harder. At least I’d managed to stop crying.
“No,” I said between giggles. “Lori and I had a fight, but it didn’t have anything to do with me being bi. We’re okay now.”
“Oh, all right, then.” Dad rubbed his forehead. “Well, I’m glad you two made up. I’ve always liked her.”
“Me, too.” I hiccupped. I’d had as much laughing and crying as I could handle. “I probably look awful. I’d better go fix myself up.”
“You look mighty fine to me.” Dad patted my arm again. “I’ll see you back at the work site. And, sweetheart, I’m glad you told me about this. Now I feel like I know my daughter a little bit better.”
That nearly made me start crying again. “Thanks, Daddy.”
I watched him walk down the steps, his hands in his pockets, his head down.
I wiped my face again and pulled back the curtain to the girls’ half of the room. My suitcase was up against the wall where I’d left it yesterday. I fished inside it for a mirror.
For the first time in three weeks, I was wearing my own clothes. I’d thought I’d miss wearing Christa’s, but having my own stuff was actually fantastic. It felt like I was finally in my real skin for the first time all summer. Maybe since before that.
I pulled out a compact and stared at my reflection. I didn’t look as bad as I’d expected. I’d wiped away the tear streaks on my face. Behind them my eyes looked bright and open. I looked awake. I looked alive.
In Texas, with Christa, I’d done something I’d never done before. It was fun. It was special. Afterward it seemed like I’d taken the most important step I’d ever take in my whole life. Certainly the biggest step I’d take this summer.
But it wasn’t. Not compared to what just happened. I’d done something this afternoon that had truly changed my life.
I was still shaking. Still reeling from how nervous I’d been. But I didn’t need to be nervous anymore.
In fact, I couldn’t imagine ever feeling nervous again.
* * *
“We can’t do gun control right after the war.” Lori took a big bite of rice and beans, then held her hand in front of her mouth as she talked. “We should put something in between that isn’t, you know, violent.”
“Let’s move up climate change, then,” Jake said. “We can put global health at the end. Are you cool with going last, Aki?”
“Sure.” I flipped through the notes under my dinner plate. I’d been wolfing down the vegetables the church ladies had made us. I was going to miss this food when we got back home. “At this point the only time I’m going to get to write my speech is while the rest of the debate is happening, so that plan sounds perfect, actually.”
“Come on,” Lori said. “You still have four days. You’ll be fine.”
“But I haven’t even started. All I have are notes.”
“I’ve barely started mine, either,” Lori said. “And I have to argue something I’m morally opposed to. I’m totally beating you in the procrastination Olympics.”
Jake couldn’t talk because his mouth was full of toast, so he gestured emphatically toward his chest. Finally he swallowed. “I’m beating you both. I’ve totally given up on writing my speech. I’m going to wing it.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” I waved my fork at him. “All that research you did before we even decided to have a debate? You’re going to be über prepared and make the rest of us look like losers.”
“Nah, just Lori,” he said.
“Hey!” Lori kicked him under the table. Jake nearly choked on his toast.
“Hi, Aki,” a soft voice said behind me.
I twisted around to face Christa. She was wearing her fedora with a white T-shirt and jeans that were so long they bunched around her ankles. No one else could rock a T-shirt and baggy jeans the way Christa could.
“You look nice,” she said.
I smiled and glanced down at the dirt and grime covering my clothes. I’d spent the day working on the ditch for the fence, and since I tended to sweat a lot while digging, I felt pretty disgusting at the moment. B
ut if Christa wanted to say I looked nice, I wasn’t going to argue with her.
“Thanks,” I said.
An awkward silence descended. There was so much I needed to say to her, but I couldn’t do it here.
“So.” She looked from side to side, then whispered, “See you later? The usual place?”
“Uh.” Lori and Jake were almost certainly eavesdropping on us. Others might have been, too. I climbed to my feet and steered Christa a few feet away from the picnic tables. “It turns out that’s not a good idea anymore.”
“Why?” Christa’s face fell. “Don’t you—want to?”
“It’s not that.” Crap. We really couldn’t have this conversation here. I motioned toward the back of the house, and Christa followed.
“We can’t use the guest house anymore,” I said once we were a safe distance away. “The Riveras figured out someone was in there.”
Christa’s eyes widened. “Do they know it was us?”
“No, thank God. They think somebody broke in or something.”
“Wow. That was close.” Christa shivered. “Where can we meet up tonight, then?”
“I don’t know.” We’d rounded the corner of the house. There was nothing but pink-painted walls to one side of us and a gorgeous setting sun to the other.
I had to tell her. Even if telling her meant losing her.
“Christa, I—I told my dad.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You—what?”
“I didn’t say anything about you,” I added quickly. “All I told him was that I was bi. I—I guess I came out to him.”
“Oh my God.” Christa clapped her hand over her mouth. “He’s seen us together. He’ll figure it out. Oh my God.”
“He won’t, I promise. He thought I was having a thing with Lori, of all people.”
I’d thought that would make Christa laugh. Instead she started shaking. “Can you tell him it’s not true? Tell him you changed your mind?”
“What?” I stared at her. I couldn’t believe this. “Changed my mind? I don’t want him to think this is only a phase or something. Look, this is a good thing, me telling him. He was really nice about it. I don’t know—I think it kind of brought me and him closer.”