“Of course we won’t. And we have weeks’ worth of Glitter Guerrillas shows to see on Thursday nights at Bridgeview before you leave for Los Angeles.”
“You don’t have to sneak around to see them either.”
“Nope. Nat’s really close with Teri and Ritchie, so she and I are going to go every week.”
“What’s she like?” Ade glanced around the frilly yellow and white room.
“She’s—um, it’s really actually hard to describe Nat.” The words tumble out of me in a rush. “She’s kind of butch but with eyeliner and chains, and sometimes she looks like a really hot guy, and she has this sexy vibe to her that’s larger than life.”
“She sounds interesting,” Ade said. “And hot?”
“Yeah, but—not like I find Ritchie hot. I don’t want to fuck her or anything. It’s more like the whole world is sexier when she’s around.”
“Okay, I am dying to meet her.”
“Meet who?” The door opened and Nat walked in, still in her suit and heels. “Missed you at work, Jacksie. Did you enjoy your day off?”
“I did, thank you. Adriana, this is my roommate, Natalie Marshall.”
Ade’s mouth dropped open in a wide O. It was incredibly rare to see her speechless, and I planned to enjoy it. “Um, hi. You, apparently.”
Nat laughed. “Hi, nice to meet you. Hope I live up to expectations.” She shrugged out of her jacket and pulled on a zip-front hoodie, then stepped out of her heels and let out a moan. She continued changing out of her clothes like an androgyne Mr. Rogers. Once she was comfortable in jeans and her hoodie, she joined us on the bed and ruffled my hair. “X is out for the night, but he says you had a great week at work, and everyone loves the pants off you.”
“He did not say that,” I blushed.
“He did,” she confirmed. “And he told me to give you this, and that no you can’t pay him back.” She handed me a shiny new iPhone still in its box.
“This is mine?” I asked, not believing he wasn’t going to let me pay him back.
“It’s not good for you not to have a way to get in touch with anybody. The house phone is fine if you’re home, but you don’t know the city the way we do. If you got lost, or anything happened to you, you need a way to get help. You’re going to be on our shared plan if that’s okay?”
“Thank you—or thank X. He really won’t be home tonight?”
She shook her head. “Nah, he’s with his friend.”
“His friend?” I asked. “Wait, X has a boyfriend?”
She shrugs. “He had a partner—for a long time, but he died. Then he was alone forever. His friend Mike is maybe the closest thing he’s had to a boyfriend since then. I know when he texts me that he’s spending the night with Mike that we won’t see him until after brunch tomorrow.”
Oh. It’s hard for me to picture X having a whole life before he became the guy who took in stray baby gays who needed a place to crash. A partner. “So he’s widowed, and now he’s got a new love?”
“Essentially, I guess.”
“That’s so sad,” Ade whispered, tears in her eyes. “He can’t be that old?”
“AIDS didn’t care how old they were, and yes, it is sad.” Nat sighed heavily. “I didn’t really know him then. I was only a little girl, and he and my parents were estranged. But he was very young to be going through all that alone. It changed him in ways I can never understand.”
“That’s why you came here when you were kicked out of your parents’ house. Neither one of you had anyone else.” It was all starting to make sense to me now, how the uncle and the niece had become so close. They were all the family they had. Well—no. They were all the blood family they had.
“Yes, that’s why.” Nat ran her hand through my mohawk and smiled at me. “Anyway, since he’s at Mike’s, I’ll go sleep in his room, you can have the bed to yourself—or to share with your friend here. Is Ritchie coming over later?”
“No, he said I should catch up with Ade. He’s working the brunch shift tomorrow same as me, so we’re probably going to have an early dinner or late lunch after work.”
“That sounds lovely. Say hi for me. Okay, I’m beat. Y’all be good.”
After Nat closed the door behind her, Ade whistled low. “You know, I was never very sure, but I’m absolutely certain now—I’m a lesbian.”
I laughed, but then saw she was serious. “Seriously? You never seemed interested in the girls at school?”
“The girls at school—” She held up a hand. “I was never interested in the boys at school. Sometimes the girls at school were interesting. But that woman right there? She’s riveting. I know exactly what you mean about the whole world seeming sexier with her in it.”
“So that’s it, Nat Marshall made you gay?” I tease.
“Nat Marshall confirmed suspicions I already had.”
“Amazing. Welcome to the club.” I hugged her, and she hugged me back, and it felt perfect to be here in the city with her, and no fears of being found out hanging over our heads.
“Thank you.”
“I think we should celebrate—Thursday night? Bridgeview?”
She laughed and nodded. “Yes, that sounds perfect. I’m glad you’re the first person I came out to.”
“I’m really glad I am too. Thank you for trusting me.”
We curled up on the bed and unboxed my new phone, taking the time to set it up and add the numbers of the small circle of people who had become my family. Ade, of course. Nat and Xavier. The Thorns. Teri. And of course, Ritchie.
Ritchie who was my friend, and maybe more.
I rushed home after the brunch shift at the Thorns and stood under the hot spray of the shower, scrubbing the kitchen and bar smells from my skin. I still didn’t have much in the way of clothing, but Nat had given me free rein in her closet, and her clothes fit me well. I pulled on a pair of jeans that seemed like more holes than fabric, then a t-shirt with the name of some band I’d never heard of.
That wasn’t uncommon. Ritchie and Natalie both had an encyclopedic knowledge of music and had seen more bands in the last few years than I had heard of in my entire life. Ritchie was always sending me songs to listen to that ranged from the most current pop on the radio to old shit from before my parents were born. I loved it all, but more than anything, I loved the text messages that came with them.
This song reminds me of the way you look at me when you’re happy
I like to listen to this song on the days I get to see you—it’s about girls, but really, it’s about anticipation
This song is sad, but if you listen to it when you’re walking through the city, it makes the whole world seem closer to you
I heard this old country song for the first time yesterday, and it sounds hungry and angry to me—what do you think? Should Glitter Guerrillas do an alt-rock cover of it?
This song makes me want to kiss you
Needless to say, they all reminded me of Ritchie. Ritchie, who would be here any minute. Ritchie, who could have seduced me with nothing but his body and chose to seduce me with words and songs and all these feelings that seemed too much for me to take at times.
I borrowed some of Nat’s pomade and tried to do something with my hair. The shaved sides had grown in some, and the floppy hair on top no longer looked as much like a mohawk, but with a little help from the pomade, I managed to make it look passably cool. Maybe.
A knock sounded on the door, and I went to let Ritchie in. He slouched on the front stoop, a backpack over his shoulder and a shy smile on his face.
“Hi,” I said softly.
“Hi.” He stepped through the door. “You look hot.”
I shut the door behind him and ran a hand through my hair, messing up the style I’d just worked so hard on.
“You look—” I gestured to him. “Really good too.” I flushed.
“Is Xavier here?” he asked softly.
I shook my head.
He smiled and turned me around, pressing me against the door and kis
sing me. Heat coursed through my body as his tongue swept into my mouth and he rocked his hips into mine. I tried to wrap one leg around him, to bring him even closer, and his hand slid down to cup my ass and hold me there. I moaned and thrust against him, overwhelmed at this unexpected stolen moment.
He drew back and we both gasped for breath as he dropped his forehead against mine and smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to doing that all day.”
I thrust my hips into his again, provoking a sharp inhale and an unsteady laugh from him. “We could skip lunch and go to bed?”
He flinched. “Nat’s bed.”
Honestly, I didn’t care whose bed. At that point, I would be perfectly content to lose my virginity right there up against the door. But I could see the reluctance all over his face and the last thing I wanted was to fool around with someone who wasn’t into it. I dropped my leg and sank back against the door.
“It’s not a ‘no’, Jacks. It’s a ‘not yet’.”
“I want you so much, and—and it doesn’t feel like you feel the same.”
“It’s not about wanting—obviously I want you. But I want more than jerking each other off up against a door or blowing each other in my friend’s bed. There’s so much more that I want—I want to get to know you, who you are when you’re out from your dad’s shadow and I’m more than just another teenage rebellion for you.”
I shrugged, ducking out from under his arm and crossing to sit on the couch. When he came and sat next to me, I felt like I was going to cry, and I looked away.
“Jacks, I don’t ever want you to look back at this time in your life and think I was only out to get sex from you.”
My head snapped up. “Don’t worry, no danger of that.”
He laughed, but not like he thought it was funny. “I’m falling in love with you, Jacks, and I’m absolutely terrified.”
And that took all the wind out of my anger. “Why are you terrified?”
“I’m terrified of all of the ways I could fuck this up. But I’m pretty sure waiting until you’re settled and not vulnerable isn’t one of them.”
“I’m not vulnerable,” I protested.
“You just got out of an abusive household and you’re waiting for a judge to grant you emancipation from that same household. You’re living with strangers. You started your first job ever. And you’re sixteen.”
“I’ll be seventeen in two weeks.”
He nodded. “When I was seventeen, I graduated high school, and Teri and I decided to move to New York and start a band. And we did. And I didn’t think I was vulnerable, but I was. And I know I’m not much older than you, and this is very recent history, but the things that hurt me—the people who took advantage of me—they’re fresh in my mind. I want better than that for you.”
“That already makes you different than the people who hurt you.”
“But if I took advantage of you now, I wouldn’t be different enough.”
Just then, the door opened and Xavier walked in. He glanced at us sitting together on the couch and nodded a hello.
“Jacks. Ritchie.”
“Hey, Xavier.” Ritchie smiled at him. “How’s your weekend going?”
“Very fine.” He grinned. “Y’all working this afternoon?”
I shook my head. “We both had brunch shifts. We’re going to grab a late lunch, then maybe hit up a few thrift stores so I don’t have to keep borrowing clothes from Natty.”
He nodded. “Have a good time.” Then he left the room, whistling.
“Shall we then?” I stood and held my hand out to Ritchie. He took it, and I pulled him up and right into my chest. I wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him. “I understand. I get it. It’s frustrating as hell, but I get it.”
He cupped my face and kissed me. “When the time is right.”
Lunch was slices of pizza and cokes, about all I could afford on the tips the bartenders had split with me and still have plenty left over to buy a few outfits to wear when not at work. My first real paycheck was still two weeks away. Ritchie tried to pay, but I wouldn’t let him.
“Freedom means I get to buy lunch sometimes,” I told him. “And not have to account for it to anyone.”
“Your dad was pretty pissed about that hotel stay in Manhattan, was he?” Ritchie folded his slice of pizza and took a bite.
I shrugged. “Actually, that didn’t turn out to be a big deal. I’d already told him I was spending the night with Ade. He asked about the hotel room charge the next day and I told him we’d gone second-hand shopping and to see a show in the city. Whenever possible, I try to tell him the truth. Otherwise, I don’t tell him at all.”
“So what did you do that was so bad he completely isolated you from the world for three weeks?”
“Got a B in differential equations. Told him I didn’t care if it meant I wouldn’t get into med school. Might have used an F-bomb or two.”
“Let me get this straight—spending a weekend with Adriana in the city is fine, but a B in—diff-what?”
“Math.”
“A B in math is grounds to cut you off from everyone in your life?”
“Questioning my father’s authority and his plans for my life. The B in math was what set it off.”
“You don’t get to make your own plans for your life?”
I grinned. “I do now.”
“Does he know you’re gay?”
Nodding, I took another bite of my pizza and chewed for a moment before answering. “Since I was about eight. I told him I wanted to marry one of the other boys in my class. He sat me down and explained that it was nice to have friends, but I couldn’t marry another boy. When I persisted, he hit me.”
Ritchie’s head fell forward, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Jacks.”
“That’s about the time I stopped telling him about things that were important to me. I was allowed to play the piano, but the drums were a secret. I was allowed to spend time with Ade, but only if I was home by ten. You know, I didn’t even want to graduate high school early and start at Princeton when I was barely sixteen, but he insisted, and when we fought, I hit him back.”
“Good for you.” Ritchie practically growled.
“Not really. He didn’t hit me much after that, but he just found other ways to hurt me. To take control away. I wasn’t allowed to get a summer job. I had to account for my whereabouts constantly. A car was completely out of the question. I don’t even have a driver’s license. Ade taught me how to drive, but I needed a parent’s permission to take the driving test.”
“And your mom was okay with all of this?”
I laughed bitterly. “My mom hates me even more than he does. I’m the reason she married him—she said at least since I was gay, she wouldn’t have to worry I’d get some girl knocked up and ruin both our lives.”
“You didn’t ruin anyone’s lives.” Ritchie grabbed my hand. “They ruined their own by being terrible people.”
“Yeah.” I crumpled up my napkin and threw it on my plate. “You ready to go?”
We didn’t talk about my family anymore after that. Instead, he held my hand as we looked through the racks at a thrift store, searching for clothes to fit my new life. Jeans and t-shirts, a few hoodies. A pair of shoes that would be easier on my feet at work than Ritchie’s old Converse. It was a simple wardrobe, and not one that would take me many places, but buying it with money I’d earned, that was a first for me.
Later, he took me home and we made out on Nat’s bed for hours—I didn’t push him for more, instead trying to lose myself in the sweetness of kissing him, in the feeling of his hands on my face, my chest, occasionally my back or ass. It was all-consuming. I was turned on, but also couldn’t get enough of the gentle ways he touched me and held me, the sweet things he whispered between kisses. I felt more than wanted—I felt adored. When Nat walked in and interrupted us, he pulled back enough to say hello, and then dove back into kissing me again. I laughed against his lips and pushed him away.
“You two are adorable.” Nat sat on the edge of the bed. “You better not get spooge in my jeans.”
“Ewwww, Natty. Way to spoil the mood.” Ritchie sat up and straightened his clothes.
She smirked at him. “I would hope me being in the room would spoil the mood. Jeez.”
I blushed and didn’t say anything.
“So, are you two going to need the bed much longer or—?”
That got me on my feet. “Nat, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—”
“Chill. I don’t care if you swap spit on my bed. But I have to open tomorrow and I need my sleep.”
“We’ll go sit on the couch.” Ritchie stood and I followed him out to the living room.
“Goodnight!” I called over my shoulder.
“This sharing a bedroom stuff is going to get awkward,” Ritchie murmured. “But at least you have a bedroom. I really need to move off Teri’s couch. Ugh, apartments are so expensive.”
“How does Teri afford her place?”
“From what I understand, it’s rent-stabilized.”
“Is that the same as rent-controlled?”
He shook his head. “It’s not quite like rent-controlled, where it stays low as long as the same family lives there, but the rent can’t be raised more than a certain amount each year. And she makes enough on her own through tattooing to pay for it. I give her some money too, for letting me stay there.”
“She’s a tattoo artist?” That was the first I’d even thought to ask what Teri did for a living.
“Yeah, that’s why she’s got so many. When she was an apprentice, she and the other apprentices practiced on each other a lot. She did this—” he gestured to the raven on the side of his neck, then pulled up his sleeve. “—And this one is one of my favorites.”
I examined the tattoo on his forearm closer than I ever had before. It was stylized cherry blossoms, that much I had known, but I took in the lush softness of the colors, the way the white and pink and tiny yellow centers seem to bloom right there on his arm, nestled among green leaves. A lot of his other ink was black, only occasional splashes of color. It looked good on him.
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