“The right thing would have been to never treat me like shit in the first place, Caroline,” she retorted.
“I know.” The woman lowered her head. “If I could take it back, I would. I can’t. The best thing I can do now is apologize to you. I own what I did. I own how I treated you. I am sorry.”
“Okay,” Hillary replied.
“Okay?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Nothing, I guess. Nothing.” The woman moved to grip her paper cup with both hands again. She’d yet to take a drink. “Hill, when I realized I needed to get help, I went to rehab. I spent thirty days there. When I got out, I ended things with Annie. I never should have dated her. I thought she was what I needed, but it turned out that while I was in rehab, she’d already moved on. When I broke up with her, she told me she’d been sleeping with someone else. I guess I deserved that. It didn’t matter though; I needed something else. I needed someone else.” She paused then. “I quit my job after that. I started doing the books for the rehab facility when they lost their in-house accountant to retirement. After I saw their profit numbers, I couldn’t believe I’d paid as much as I had.” She chuckled.
“Caroline…” Hillary looked to the side at one of the empty tables.
“I’ve changed, Hill. I don’t go out often. When I do, it’s for work. I only work forty hours a week and leave at five every day. I’m at an accounting firm off Market now,” she revealed. “I’m happy there. The work is challenging, but not exhausting. I manage two people instead of ten. I don’t have an entire department on my shoulders now. I feel like I can finally breathe again.” She let out a breath and inhaled again, as if to prove her point. “Hill, I miss you. I miss what we had. I came here to apologize, but I also came here to talk about us.”
“Us?” Hillary gulped.
“Baby, I still love you. I never stopped.”
◆◆◆
Amara stood outside the community center. She’d worried she’d be a little late, since she’d made a stop on her way, but she smiled at her phone when she saw that she was technically one minute early. She watched a few people as they went into the center. She pulled out her phone to check the time. Hillary was late. It was only by five minutes, but she was late. Amara sent her a quick text message just to check in.
“Hey, I’m here.” Hillary waved from the end of the block. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Amara moved to meet her in the middle. “I wanted to get you flowers, but I thought that might be weird, since we’re going to sit in a meeting and then go to dinner. I also thought about candy, but you don’t eat it. So, I went with a card.” She held out the card she’d purchased and written in just before she’d arrived. “Can you read it later, though? It’s a little sappy.”
“Sure.” Hillary took the card and stuffed it into her bag unceremoniously. “Ready?”
“Are you okay?” Amara asked.
Her girlfriend hadn’t even kissed her hello. Amara followed her inside the small building. Hillary held open the door for her but hadn’t replied to her question. They sat in silence as the meeting began. The room was small. It held a buffet table with some light snacks and the requisite coffee. Outside of that, the only furniture in the room were the ten or so chairs. The facilitator of the group began by welcoming everyone and, especially, the new faces. The time to share began. Amara glanced at Hillary, who was stone-faced as she listened to the other people tell their stories. Amara took the woman’s hand and placed it in her own lap. It was cold and clammy. She tried to catch Hillary’s eye, but Hillary was staring straight ahead at the wall behind the facilitator.
The meeting ended with Hillary having shared nothing, but she’d warned Amara that might be the case. They stood and left the space, returning outside, where the temperature had dropped slightly. Amara clung to her sweater to try to keep the cold from entering her body. Hillary seemed unbothered by the whole thing. She held her messenger bag with both hands, sliding them up and down the strap nervously.
“Hill, the restaurant’s this way.” Amara pointed to the left. “Do you want to take a car? I left mine at the church and walked.”
“I’m not hungry,” Hillary stated.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Amara placed a soft hand on Hillary’s elbow.
“Nothing. I’m just not hungry.”
“Don’t do that, Hill. You just told me not to do that to you; don’t do that to me.” She paused, removed her hand, and continued, “Please.”
“We should skip dinner tonight,” Hillary replied. “I’m sorry. I’m not good company. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
With that, the woman walked off in the direction from which she’d come.
CHAPTER 31
“Hi, honey. Have you eaten?” Amara’s father asked her immediately upon entering the kitchen.
“No,” she replied.
“I was just about to make a sandwich. Interested?”
“Sure.”
“Everything okay?”
What was she supposed to say to that? She couldn’t exactly tell her father that she may have just had a fight with her girlfriend.
“I’m fine,” she lied again.
Her father made two sandwiches, poured two glasses of milk, and set them at the table before joining her to eat.
“Is it about your mother?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.
“No, Dad.”
“I have her Bible in my bedside table; the one I knew about, at least. I can bring it down.”
“That’s okay.” She took another bite of her sandwich.
“Honey, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“What?” She nearly spat out her food.
“Amara, I am asking you if you’re happy. I worry about you sometimes. Recently, you’ve seemed better; you’ve made a friend or two. That’s wonderful. I think you’re enjoying school more, and I’m glad about that, too. But I see you at work, and I worry that I’ve pushed you into something you see no way out of.”
“What? No, Dad. I’m–”
“Amara, please be honest with me. Honesty is so important in life.”
Amara thought of her mother’s dishonesty. She bit her lower lip.
“Dad, I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I’ve always worked at the church. Even if I did leave one day – and I’m not saying I will – I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”
“What if you went to school full-time? You never did that; you never went off to school like most kids. That’s my fault.”
“Not everything is your fault, Dad,” she nearly yelled.
“Amara Abigail!” the man nearly yelled, too.
“Sorry.”
It always amazed her how she could simultaneously feel like an adult and a child in her father’s presence.
“Just tell me what’s wrong,” he requested calmly.
“I guess I’ve felt trapped at times.”
“Trapped?”
“Yes. It’s not you, though, Dad. It’s me.”
“I haven’t exactly helped, though.”
Her farther leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his legs.
“I’m an adult; these are my choices.” She paused. “I guess I’m starting to question some of them.”
“Like the church?”
“Working there,” she answered. “I still believe in God. I believe in what you do.”
“And this has nothing to do with you meeting that old friend of your mom’s?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it does.”
“Did she say something to you that has you questioning your career or your faith?”
“No.” Amara pushed her plate away, inhaled deeply, and decided to test the waters. “She’s nice. She told me about how she and Mom were friends. That’s all. She introduced me to her wife, though. Her name is Marissa,” she explained.
She watched her dad’s reaction: his eyes
met her own, and his eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.
“Her wife? She’s…”
“A lesbian,” she answered.
Her heart raced wildly. Her mouth had gone instantly dry.
“Oh.” He considered for a moment. “I didn’t know your mom knew anyone like that.”
“Like that?” Amara asked after a moment of shared silence.
“Yes, like that,” he said. “Like that.”
“Gay?”
“I guess I’m having a hard time believing your mother was friends with this woman. Daisy, right?”
“Yes,” she lied. “Why?”
“Your mom…” He paused, leaned forward and then back again. “I don’t know... She just didn’t like that.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Homosexuals. She knew what the Bible said; she studied it daily. I guess I’m just surprised.”
Amara lowered her head, doing her best to conceal her impending tears.
“And what about you?” she asked next.
“What about me?”
“What do you think about them? Homosexuals?” The word felt foreign on her tongue.
“Well, you know it’s wrong. The Bible tells us that, Amara.” He sighed. “I don’t have a problem with you learning more about your mother from this Daisy woman, though, if that’s what you’re worried about. Your mom probably knew her before Daisy went that way.”
“Went that way?”
“Made her decision,” he corrected.
Amara lifted her head and faced him with scowling eyes.
“Her decision?” she questioned.
“To be with women.”
He stood, carried his plate along with Amara’s over to the sink, dropped them into it, and returned to finish his milk as if he hadn’t said anything of note.
“You think it’s a decision?”
“Why are we talking about this?” he asked with a chuckle. “If you want to spend some time with her, you should. You should get to know your mother.”
“I don’t need your permission, Dad.” She stood from the table and wiped her eyes. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need your permission to spend time with anyone.”
“Of course, you don’t.” He stood, too. “Amara, what’s going on?”
“Dad, I think I should move out,” she said.
“Hold on, Amara. What are you talking about?” He held up his hands defensively.
“I need to make some changes,” she replied. “I need something else.”
“Honey, if you want more privacy or more space, we can build on the property, like we talked about. This is your home.”
“I’m going to stay at Hillary’s tonight. I have class tomorrow, anyway.”
“Honey, let’s talk some more.”
“I’ll be home late tomorrow.”
“Amara–”
She left the kitchen and exited out the back door. She hurried past the pool and into the house, where she packed an overnight bag, grabbed her mother’s old Bible, and left. She drove straight to Hillary’s, found parking down the block, and made her way to the apartment. She’d texted Hillary that she was coming but hadn’t received anything back. It was too late to turn around now. She knocked on the door and waited. She then knocked again and waited. She didn’t have a key to her girlfriend’s place. It also wasn’t late, so Hillary should still be awake. She knocked a third time, reached for her phone, and called her. She heard no ringing from inside. She didn’t leave a voicemail and texted Hillary again instead.
She couldn’t go home; her father would hear her car or see her light and want to talk. She couldn’t find Hillary either. She had no other friends she could stay with. She allowed her eyes to well up with tears again before she admitted defeat. She hefted her bag over her shoulder and made her way back outside. That was when she saw Hillary: she was hugging another woman with long dark hair. When they pulled apart, the woman kissed her cheek. Amara felt the pain instantly. The two women spoke for another moment. Then, Hillary watched the woman walk toward her car. Amara didn’t need to wait around any longer. She headed back toward her own car, climbed inside, and drove off to an unknown destination.
CHAPTER 32
“Amara?”
“Hi, Mark.” She held her bag over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry to just drop by like this.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked with a sincere look on his face.
“Can I maybe stay here tonight?”
“Stay here?” He shook his head confusedly. “Oh, of course.” He motioned for her to come inside. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at home?”
Amara moved into the apartment. She dropped her bag by the leather sofa and sat down. She’d spent some time here when they were dating but never felt quite comfortable. That had nothing to do with Mark’s apartment. It was a typical bachelor pad, of course, but slightly elevated. There were a crucifix on the wall and a large shelf of Christian books. He also had a Norman Rockwell print over the couch and secondhand furniture he’d either gotten from his parents or thrift stores. He’d put it together all very well, though.
“I had a fight with my father. I was going to stay with a friend of mine in the city, but she wasn’t home when I got there. I don’t want to go home. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He sat down next to her but gave her a little space. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t think I can with you.” She met his kind eyes. “Thank you for letting me stay. I can just sleep here. I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”
“Amara, you can sleep in my bed,” he stated. “I’ll sleep out here.”
“It’s your house, Mark. That’s not fair.”
“You’re a guest in my house; take the bed. I’ll sleep out here,” he insisted with a smile. “Amara, I know we’re not together anymore; I get it. But I can still be a friend to you. If you need to talk, I’m here.”
“It’s a lot, Mark.” She chuckled. “It’s a lot.”
“How about I get us something to drink? Water? I still have some of those cranberry juices you like.”
“Water would be great,” she said.
He moved to his kitchen, grabbed her a bottle of water, and returned to the sofa.
“What’s going on?” he asked after opening the bottle and handing it to her. “Is it your dad?”
“No, it’s me.” She took a sip of the cold liquid and placed the bottle on the table in front of them. “Are you sure you want to hear about this? You have to work at the church with him and with me.”
“Did he do something?” The guy moved back as if preparing for really bad news.
“No,” she assured. “Mark, to tell you what’s going on, I’d have to tell you something that my dad doesn’t know about me. Are you sure you want to carry my secret around? I’m not sure I’m ready to tell him. I thought I was. Then, I heard him say some things. Then, I saw someone tonight.” She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll listen to whatever you want to say.”
He gave her that kind smile again. It was in that moment that she realized she did have a friend; she’d had one all along.
“Mark, I’m gay,” she said it, immediately thought about taking it back, and then decided it was a good thing that it was out there.
“You’re gay?”
The look on the guy’s face was that of confusion, not disgust. That was a start.
“Yes.”
“So, that’s why you and I didn’t work out?”
“Yes,” she told him. “It had nothing to do with you. You’re a very nice guy.”
“Your father doesn’t know?”
“No.”
“Are you ever going to tell him?”
“You aren’t upset?”
“About you being gay? No. Why would I be?”
“You want to take my dad’s job one day, Mark. I know what the church teaches.”
“Amara, I am a man of faith, but I’m not God. God made you as you are
. I’ve never had a problem with homosexuality.”
“Really?”
“I don’t necessarily understand it – I’m not sure I’ve ever tried – but I don’t have a problem with you being gay. Maybe I’m from a different generation than your father, but I think God would want you to be happy.”
“He thinks it’s a decision.”
“Many people do think that.”
“Not you?”
“Let’s just say that if I ever do take over the church from your father, I might make some changes to my sermons.” He winked at her. “Is that why you left tonight?”
“Yes. We weren’t talking about me. I guess I was trying to test him, which may not be fair, but I needed to know how he’d react. He thinks it’s something someone would choose. He has no idea how it feels to be like this: to feel something you’re raised to think is wrong when it only feels right to you.”
“Have you talked to him about that?”
“No. I thought I could tell him. I thought I’d be strong enough now.”
“Why now?” he asked.
Amara met his curious eyes and drew her lips into a straight line.
“Oh. You’re with someone? A woman?”
“I have a girlfriend,” she said.
It felt both wonderful and terrifying to say that out loud. She loved Hillary. Hillary had told her she loved her back. Tonight, though, Hillary had been with another woman – a woman Amara didn’t recognize – and they’d looked close.
“And she’s the first woman…”
“I’ve been with, yes. Mark, I promise, I didn’t cheat on you.”
“I know. That’s not something you’d do. We didn’t work out, Amara, but I’d like to think that I know you a little bit at least.”
“You do.”
“And when you say been with, you mean…”
“I love her.” She left it at that. “It was her place I was going to stay at tonight, but she wasn’t there.”
“Did you call her?”
“I did. It’s no big deal. I’m sure she’s just out with friends. I didn’t exactly give her much notice about me stopping by.”
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