by Robin Talley
He’s living with a bunch of guys on Polk Street. Dean invited him to move to Palo Alto, but he decided to stay in the city and take classes at CCSF instead. He’s got a new job at a restaurant that pays a lot more than he used to get at Javi’s, so he can cover his own rent and tuition.
Mom wrote him a letter a couple of weeks ago and asked me to mail it to him. She wants him to move back home. She offered to pay his tuition to State the way they’d planned, but she made it clear he’d have to live under her rules.
He wrote back and said no. He’s making his own choices now.
I’m happy for him, but…I’ve lost him, Tammy. I always knew I would someday, but I wasn’t ready for it to happen this fast. He’ll always be my brother, but he isn’t mine anymore.
But that doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would, either. When I see him now, he looks so happy. He’s finally getting to be himself, even if he’s doing it without me.
Anyway, I…
Okay, look. Tammy, I’ve got to admit, I’m kind of stalling.
I didn’t sit down to write this letter because I wanted to give you an update on my family. I sat down to write because I wanted to tell you everything I didn’t get to say that day.
I read the letter you gave me. It was incredible, Tammy. Still, though…you wrote that months ago. With everything that’s happened, the way you feel might’ve changed. I totally understand if that’s what happened.
But for me…the way I feel has only gotten stronger.
So, here goes. I’m going to write all this, straight through, without going back to cross anything out or erase it.
I think I’m bisexual.
And…it’s like you said in your letter. I feel the same way you did. I want to share the world with you, too.
Wow. Okay. I wrote that down. Everything else should be easy from here, right?
No—this isn’t easy at all. My hands are shaking so hard I can barely write. The idea of saying that was so scary, for so long.
I’m sorry if knowing this makes you feel awkward. I missed my chance back on Gay Freedom Day, and that’s my own fault.
And you’d have every right to hate me after the way I completely failed to help when your aunt was here. Or maybe you’re dating one of those cool women you live with now, and you’d have every right to do that, too.
I just needed you to know.
There’s only one other thing I have to do, and then I’ll make sure you get this letter. I can’t mail it—there isn’t time—but I’ve got a plan. The thing I have to do first is a big deal, a really big deal, but writing this gave me the courage I needed.
I’m so sorry. Even after we made our pledge, it took me this long to be truly, totally honest.
It took me longer to be honest with myself, too, but I’m trying to do better on that front as well. Starting right now.
Yours, Sharon
Friday, September 22, 1978
Dear Diary,
This is going to be messy, since I’m writing on a bus. There’s no way I’ll have time to write about everything that’s happened so far before we have to stop, but I need to get down what I can before I start to forget.
The first thing I did this morning, after I finished my letter to Tammy and slid it into my backpack, was go see my mother.
I knocked lightly on her bedroom door and hefted the backpack on my shoulder. Mom doesn’t come out of her room much lately unless it’s for work or church. I’ve started eating alone most nights, standing up in the kitchen. I’ve become an expert on stirring Rice-A-Roni.
I waited until I heard movement on the other side of the door. First came rustling sheets, and a minute later, soft footsteps. It was past seven on a school day, but when the door swung open Mom was still in her nightgown, her hair matted to her head. She’s been sleeping later since Peter moved out. “What is it, Sharon?”
I waited to see if she’d notice I was already showered and dressed, and very much not in my Holy Angels uniform, but she just blinked wearily and waited for me to talk.
It’s been hard for her. I know it has. But that doesn’t make what she did okay.
“I have to tell you something.” I bit my lower lip. I’ve started doing that lately. It was something Alex told us at the bookstore—that a tiny bit of pain could help her remember it was worth doing scary things. “Mom…I’m bisexual.”
“No,” she answered instantly. I was fighting to stay calm, not to let myself get overwhelmed by the rush of saying what I’d said, but I knew I needed to listen carefully to my mother’s every word. “No. You aren’t. You don’t understand what that means, Sharon. I know you think you do, growing up in your generation and in this city, but that’s because I haven’t done a better job of showing you and your brother how the world works.”
It was the most I’d heard her say in weeks. I got a strong impression she’d already had this speech prepared.
She knew.
How long? Did she know before I did?
I bit my lip again.
“You’re wrong, Mom.” I took a deep breath to steady myself. “We know how the world works, but that doesn’t change who we are.”
“Stop this.” Mom took a deep breath of her own and turned away. “We’ll be late for school. I’ll drive us today, and then we’ll both come straight home after the final bell so we can discuss this.”
“I’m not going to school today.” I swallowed, then squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “Harvey Milk is debating Senator Briggs near L.A. and a group of us are driving down to hold a rally.”
“You’re doing no such thing.” She spat the words.
“I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’m leaving now.” I took a step backward, then another.
“You are not.” Mom followed me out into the hall, pulling her nightgown tighter around her as I moved toward the stairs. The cords in her neck were straining. “Your brother’s a legal adult, and unfortunately that gives him the right to go where he pleases, but I forbid you to leave this house.”
I started down the stairs.
“Sharon!”
“Goodbye, Mom.” I was already halfway down. “I’ll be back tonight.”
I unlocked the front door and stepped outside, my teeth digging into my lip so hard I tasted blood.
I didn’t look back until I’d shut the door. I waited on the stoop to see if she’d come after me, but I didn’t hear anything. It was a still morning, and the house was dark and quiet.
I took another deep breath. In, out. One more. Then I turned around and started walking, my backpack heavy on my shoulders.
Crap, the bus is stopping. More later.
Yours, Sharon
Friday, September 22, 1978
Dear Harvey,
I can’t believe my life’s turned into what it’s become. Some mornings I wake up and lie in bed staring at the fire escape out past the window curtains and I think, over and over, I’m here.
My life has turned out so much better than I ever imagined it could, Harvey.
Yet…there’s still something missing.
I guess there’s no use dwelling on it. No one gets to have everything they’ve ever wanted.
I just wish I could see her, Harvey. One more time.
Shit, I’ve got to go. Evelyn’s already up and yelling. If I make the bus late she’ll probably toss me out a window before we hit Oakland.
See you this afternoon.
Peace & joy, Tammy
P.S. Is it okay that I’m still writing to you? I know it’s kind of strange now that I have real friends, but I still like to think of you listening to what I have to say.
Friday, September 22, 1978
Dear Diary,
We’re crammed back onto the bus. The others are starting to doze off, so it’s a good time to pick up from my la
st entry. There’s still so much I need to get down on paper.
I left Mom with my heart pounding and went straight to the bus stop. I was in luck—one pulled up seconds later. My heart kept on pounding for the entire Muni ride north, but when I finally stepped off onto Valencia, I could hear horns honking and cable cars clanging, and I started to feel like myself again. A second later, when I heard my brother shouting, that sealed the deal.
“Sis! You’re late!”
“Oh, my gosh!” I started to panic, looking at my watch as Peter ran toward me…until I realized he’d obviously just gotten there himself. There was no sign of the rented VW bus that was supposed to pick us up at the corner yet. I wasn’t late at all. “Jerk.”
“Did I fool you?” He grinned.
“Shut up.” I elbowed him.
“Sorry. I wanted to see if I could get you to say ‘Oh, my gosh’ again.”
I hugged him. He hugged me back.
I’ve missed my brother so, so, so much.
His hair’s been getting longer since he got out from under the St. John’s dress code, and today his curls hung down to frame his face. He’s got a new wardrobe, too—a collection of flannel shirts and Levi’s and Converse sneakers assembled from various thrift shops. I’d asked if he needed me to bring anything from home with me, and he’d said he wanted a few books, but no clothes. He’s started over fresh.
I finally released him and reached into my backpack. “Your books are really heavy,” I told him as I handed them over.
“Sorry. Thanks for being my pack mule.”
“Don’t mention it.” I glanced around to make sure no one was listening, but Evelyn and Leonard and the others were milling around by the corner, talking and laughing. Everyone’s been waiting for this day for a long, long time. “I, um… I told Mom.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “When?”
“This morning.”
He whistled. “How’d she take it?”
“Not well, but I expected that.”
He nodded slowly. “Good for you. I have faith she’ll come around. Seriously, I do.”
I nodded, too, biting my lip again.
“Also…” He lowered his voice, his eyes flicking up to a point over my left shoulder. “Guess who just got here.”
Suddenly it was hard to breathe. I closed my eyes.
“Hey, Peter.” Her voice was so familiar I might as well have heard it yesterday instead of months ago. Then her footsteps slowed behind me, and I heard her quick inhale. “Oh, my God.”
It was something from a dream. Literally. I’ve had this dream.
“Oh, my God!” The footsteps came again, faster and closer. “Sharon? Is that you?”
I turned in time to see a whirl of short blond hair and denim as Tammy flung her arms around me.
Okay, I guess she didn’t completely hate me.
I was scared to hug her as long as I did Peter, though, so I pulled back. Her smile faded a little, but her blue eyes stayed bright. Peter grinned and hugged her, too, then mumbled something about checking on Dean and disappeared.
“Sharon!” Tammy bounced in her sneakers. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I know!” I was probably grinning like a fool—she’d said my name, twice, and it sounded exactly as good as it always used to—but I tried to rein it in. I had the letter in my backpack, and I’d give it to her when I found the right time, but first I wanted to figure out if Tammy was just happy to see me or if there was any chance she might still be open to something bigger. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been grounded ever since you left. My mom wouldn’t let me touch the phone, and then I didn’t know how to reach you, and—”
“No, no, I’m so sorry.” Tammy shook her head, her smile now totally evaporated. “I got you and your brother into so much trouble. I messed up your entire life.”
“Are you kidding? My life was so much better when you were in it.” I couldn’t keep going or I’d say too much. “Did your aunt ever come back?”
“Not a chance. Once she had what she wanted, she was done with me.” Tammy laughed. “All for the better. Evelyn helped me get enrolled at Mission High, and I’m working three nights a week at the bookstore. I’m their first paid employee. Lisa thinks I might be able to get a scholarship to SFAI next year. It’s a completely different universe from my old life.”
I beamed. I was jealous of her freedom, but more than that, I was thrilled for her. “That’s amazing. I mean, I’d heard you were living with Evelyn and the others, and I’m glad you’re going to school and everything. Also I was wondering if, um—”
“Everybody!” Evelyn shouted from the corner. An ancient pale blue Volkswagen bus was trundling up to the curb, spewing exhaust behind it. Lisa was at the wheel, holding a cigarette out the window and twisting around to say something to Alex in the seat beside her. “Get in fast, it’s gonna be a tight squeeze and we’re running late!”
I turned back to Tammy and forced a laugh. Casual. I had to act casual today. “Guess we’d better…”
She laughed, too, but hers didn’t seem any more natural than mine. It was the first time I could remember us ever being awkward around each other. “Guess so.”
We were the last ones onto the bus, which turned out to be even less roomy than it looked. Behind Lisa and Alex were two wide bench seats, each of them already jammed with people sitting half on top of each other. Evelyn and Becky greeted me warmly, but there was no space for us in their middle row. Suitcases, boxes packed with brochures, rubber-banded campaign signs, and a big black trash bag stretched out over a wide rectangular frame were already stacked in the luggage section at the back, so we couldn’t sit there, either.
Peter and Dean were wedged onto the three-seater back bench with two other guys. The only spot in the entire bus that wasn’t occupied by people or stuff was the small patch of floor directly in front of them.
I glanced at Tammy. She shrugged. We stuffed ourselves into the space, carefully folding our legs and arms between the guys’ shins and resting our backs against the seat in front of us. We had no choice but to squish against each other, shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip, and I was blushing from head-to-toe by the time we got into place.
“Hope we all remembered to brush our teeth this morning,” Dean said brightly, stretching his arms out across the other three guys. The whole bus laughed.
“It’ll be six hours of luxury,” Tammy chirped, earning an even bigger laugh from the group. Laughter comes easily when you’re as excited about what you’re about to do as we were.
As soon as we hit the highway, I knew why Lisa got picked to drive. This should be a six-hour trip, but at the rate we’ve been speeding past the traffic on I-5, we’ll be south of L.A. by lunch.
“Are you staying over?” Tammy asked me as Lisa whipped across two lanes to pass a tractor-trailer.
I shook my head, gripping the seat behind me. “I promised Mom I’d be back tonight. You’re staying?”
“Yeah, we’re crashing with a friend of Leonard’s in Pasadena. There’s another bus heading back Sunday. Lisa and Alex and some of the others have pieces in an art show tomorrow down there, and they got permission for me to show a piece, too. That’s it right there.” She pointed to the enormous trash-bag-wrapped rectangle.
My eyes bugged out. “It’s huge! Is it a collage?”
“Yeah. Something new I’ve been working on. It started out as the same format I’ve always done, but Alex showed me how to use the enlargers in the darkroom, and I wound up doing it on a bigger scale. I’d show you, but there’s no space to take it out in here.”
“That sounds incredible. I wish I could come to the show.” I wouldn’t mind crashing overnight with Leonard’s friend, either. Getting in a few extra hours in close quarters with Tammy.
“Bad idea, Shar.” Peter bumped my ankle with his sneaker. “Mom might ac
tually have a heart attack.”
“Try to stay on your mom’s good side as long as you can, Sharon,” Alex called, twisting around from the front seat. “I need you in one piece so you can join the softball team in the spring.”
“I’ll probably still be grounded,” I called back, but she laughed.
Slowly, the conversations in the bus got quieter and then died off, the others lost in thought or drifting off to sleep. I got out my diary and wrote that last entry. Then, south of Bakersfield, Lisa pulled over at a rest stop.
Everyone charged to the bathrooms while Tammy, Evelyn, and I hung back. Evelyn pulled a cigarette out of her purse and paused to light it.
“Hey, I didn’t get to hug you yet.” Evelyn grinned and gave me a side-hug. “How’ve you been holding up on your own in Dan White territory?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to bring everyone down by talking about how isolated I’ve been. “Okay, I guess.”
“We’ve missed you at the bookstore.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to volunteer. My mom will barely let me out of the house.”
“I know how that goes. Believe me.” Evelyn’s lips spread in a sympathetic smile. “Thanks again for bringing Tammy to us, though. She’s hand-sold more books in the past two months than I have in the past year. I told her if she wants to keep working a side gig while she’s making her way in the art world, she’s always welcome.”
“Since it’s not as if I’ve got a future working in the school system or anything,” Tammy said. They both laughed, but I couldn’t join in.
According to the Chronicle, the polling numbers for Prop 6 look worse than ever. It’ll pass in November, and soon it’ll be illegal for people like us to work at public schools. I guess I have to either leave the state or come up with a new career plan.
Of course, I could always keep quiet about who I am. But I’m not counting that as an option anymore.
“It’ll be all right, Sharon,” Evelyn said, her voice resolute. “We’ve lost every fight so far, but we’ll win the war. That’s why Harvey’s doing these debates—to change as many hearts and minds as we can. Every time we go out into the community, we’re showing the public that gay people are no different from them.”