Disclaimer: This is part of an original piece of fiction. It's mine. Don't steal it. Thanks. Enjoy.
~~~
On Friday night, I sit alone at my writing desk, counting the days until August rolls around on my calendar.
Emily had an especially hard-hitting practice today after school, and as soon as we got home, she had a sudden moment of responsibility and decided that she was going to actually do most of the homework she'd been issued.
"It's so we can spend all of tomorrow together," she had promised.
So I spend my entire night alone- dad is off at the auction house because tonight's auction is big money, he can't miss it, and I don't really consider my silent mother company.
As I sit there, holding my wall calendar that is marked with the birthdays and photographs of famous actors, directors, and writers, I feel conflicted. The month of April is almost over now, so I have just over three months until August happens, and Emily moves back in with her dad. At first, three months sounds like forever- except for the bit where it ends, of course- but when I think about how quickly this most-of-a-month with Em has flown by, it feels like it could end tomorrow.
I've been trying not to think about it, but every now and then, it will slip back into my thoughts and jab me like a red-hot branding iron- a really painful reminder.
I still haven't told her yet that I know she's leaving, and she hasn't taken it upon herself to tell me, either. Though I get the sneaking suspicion that she knows that her stepdad told me. I'm just not sure about it.
When I put down the calendar again, I decide I'm not going to worry about it- she'll tell me when she feels the time is right.
~~~
Our Saturday morning is pretty much ideal- we're curled up on her sofa, eating bagels and drinking mango white tea (my most recent splurge), and watching Tom and Jerry. She's pulled all of the blankets and pillows off of her bed, and we're equally wrapped up in all of that as we are each other.
"I just don't understand why they never talk to each other," she says. "They both live in the house, and all they ever do is wail on each other."
"Actually, they do eventually talk," I reply.
"Really?"
"Yeah, in the movie version. They talk about how they need each other as opposition."
"Huh. Was it any good?"
"Not really."
We watch for a moment as the iconic mouse ran back into his hole, trapping the cat's nose in it as he ran to chase his enemy.
She starts the conversation up again.
"Aug, baby, wake up."
Huh?
Her mouth isn't matching up to the words I'm hearing- like in those badly dubbed Kung Fu flicks I would rather eat worms than admit to anyone that I love so much, I devour them like popcorn.
Then another voice I certainly didn't invite here interrupts.
"If she doesn't want to get up, let her sleep. Leave her a note or something. "
"I don't want to," replies Emily, her words making the room around me shimmer like the road ahead on a scalding hot summer day. It completely falls apart as I feel a hand on my shoulder, shaking me to reality.
As is normal when I wake up, I gasp and jerk upwards- which is not as good of an idea right now as usual. Somehow, I'd fallen asleep on my desk, and the shelf above it that held my reference books as well as some of my all-time favorite films greeted the crown of my head with a sharp crack! that had my eyes streaming with a few useless tears.
"Shit," I growl, not in a good mood. "Em, what the Hell?"
I look to my girlfriend for an answer to my question, and in turn, am handed more questions that I am in no disposition to be asking on a Saturday morning.
I blink once or twice to confirm that it isn't my imagination. No, it's real.
Emily, who has just unceremoniously pulled me from sleep, is standing next to my desk in a sports bra and a pair of athletic shorts, with her running shoes. Behind her sits most of the baseball team in a similar state of half-nakedness- on my bed, still left unmade from the night before last.
Grinning from his spot near my pillow, Dan is the first to speak.
"Morning, sunshine."
I ignore him, turning to Emily.
"Emily Amanda Turner," I say slowly, pointing to the boys who are, uninvited, inhabiting my bedroom- my private place. "Explain this shit."
"We're going for a run," she replies simply.
"Uh huh."
Rusty, for whom there was not enough space on my bed, is looking through my movie collection on the other side of the room.
"Ginger here thought it could be fun if you came with us."
I must still be mostly asleep, because I snort.
"No way in Hell am I running today," I say. "Especially not with people who are actually good at it." I add the last part as an afterthought; I am not athletic, to say the least, and being forced to do anything strenuous around athletes is akin to Hell itself.
"Aw, come on, Aug," Emily begs, stooping down to get on eye-level with me, her hands on her bent knees. "All the other girlfriends are coming."
I hope the pain I'm feeling right now is as visible for her in my face as I have it in my chest.
"Em," I say softly. "No."
I know that refusing to go is hurting her- if not much, just enough- so I try to ease the pain.
"Besides, I didn't get a real night of sleep, so I think I'll just stay here. You'll have to force me if you really want me to tag along."
I don't mean it as a challenge. Really.
"Fine. Guys, get out. I need to get her changed, and that's a sight for my eyes only."
They all chorus a light "ooh" and laugh as they file out of my small room, going to stand in the hallway.
She shuts the door behind them, and I narrow my eyes at her.
"You wouldn't dare."
"Uh huh?"
She jerks me to my feet and pulls me to the pile of clothes on the floor in the corner that I have recently been calling my closet, too lazy to put anything away.
"Arms up," she says shortly.
I cross them in front of my chest defiantly.
She sighs.
"Come on, Aug," she lowers her voice. "Everyone else gets to run with their girlfriends- and their best friends. So just because not everyone knows about us, you're saying that I don't get to do either?"
I soften a bit at this. I hadn't thought of it like that, for sure. Of course the boys got to run with their best friends- they were all on the team, too. But not Emily- no, her best friend fell asleep on her desk on Friday nights and slept in on Saturday mornings, all thoughts of waking up early to work out non-existent.
"No, I'm not saying that," I reply stubbornly. "I'm saying that because you decided to date someone who isn't even remotely physical at all, you don't get to run with me."
She steps forward so that she's standing nose-to-nose with me.
"But I want you to run with me," she says. "So what do I have to do? What'll it cost me?"
I stutter for a second, suddenly fully awake.
Damn, she's pretty.
"Uh, well... you can start by kissing me good morning. I'm guessing you didn't because those idiots were watching," I say the beginning of this softly, but I let my voice get louder and carry so that the guys can hear exactly what I think of them gate-crashing my morning.
They let me know they've heard me by laughing loudly and pounding on the door.
My mother must be loving this.
I can only imagine what my mother is thinking, suddenly the host of a large group of loud teenage boys- some of which are not wearing shirts. I know for a fact that this has never happened to her before, and it must be just a touch beyond unbelievable.
"Okay," Emily says, bending in for a sweet kiss that I respond immediately to. "Good morning, August. You look lovely today. Take your pants off."
I blush deeply, thoroughly not expecting that last part.
But I do as she says, shimmying off the Soffee shorts I usually sleep in. She scoops my red pair of basketball shorts off of the side of my clothing pile and hands them to me, lifting one eyebrow.
"Put them on," she instructs, and I do. She then pulls on the long hem of the large t-shirt borrowed from my dad that I always sleep in. "What do I have to do to get this off?"
I don't have time to answer before she kisses me again, harder, as she lifts the shirt over my unsuspecting shoulders. The kiss only breaks when the shirt passes between our faces, and she whispers: "I guess that was enough, huh?"
I nod. She glances quickly down at my worn black sports bra.
"That'll do. Pull some shoes on, let's go," she says, walking to my bedroom door and opening it as I scramble to pull on a pair of tennis shoes.
Chris whistles when he sees me step into the hall.
"Looking good, Shoemaker," says Jonathon with a wink that would work if I knew he actually meant it. There's no way he does- though it's spring now, I'm still pale from this winter, and I lack the perfectly flat stomach that my fit girlfriend is sporting.
But I don't have time to focus on that because Jonathon's jaw isn't the only one nearing the ground while I'm following the team out the front door.
"August Denae, what are you wearing?" my mother says in soap opera tones behind me.
"Workout clothes, mom."
She follows me out of the door.
"Where are you going? You're not wearing a shirt, August!"
"I'm going for a run, mom. Can't stay," I say over my shoulder as I jog after the group, trying to keep up.
Rusty and Dan are cackling like hyenas right along with Emily at the front of the group. I catch up with them after a minute, tapping Emily on the shoulder.
"I don't know if I hate you, or if I love you right now."
Two miles later, I am quite positive that I may hate them- all of them. Not only have the other girlfriends joined us, but so has Sellers. Lucky for me though, Sellers is much faster than I am, and he is right at the front of the group with Jonathon and Rusty.
"You doing okay back here?" asks Jonathon as he comes to the back of the crowd where I am. His smirk may as well be lit up with a neon sign, Vegas-style, for how well he's keeping it hidden.
"Eat my shorts, Smith," I huff, rolling my eyes. I'm really not having that much trouble, and I really don't think it looks like I am, either.
"I'd love to, Shoemaker, but that's our lovely pitcher's job."
I reach to hit him, but he dances out of reach before letting out a long, shrill whistle, calling the attention of the group.
"All right! Two more miles, bring the pace down to August's speed, here."
I shoot him a look that could boil ice cold water, and he shrugs.
"It's a good pace for conditioning," he explains.
"Conditioning, my ass," I grumble.
Emily slows down to jog by my side.
"Look at you go! You're like a machine."
"Yeah, yeah," I reply, smiling. It may be cheesy, but she's got this talent for knowing what I need to hear.
It's not that I'm not doing well; it's just that everyone is doing so much better than I am. All of the guys are still going strong and so is Emily, but I really expected that since it's still their season to be in shape. I didn't expect all of the five girlfriends who came along to be fit enough to not be bothered in the least by all of this. Where my hair is falling out of its ponytail in clumps, theirs have stayed full. They've just barely glistened with perspiration, and I'm soaked with sweat. It's ridiculous.
"Hey, August!" says Natalie, Dan's girlfriend, as she flips a strand of her so-light-it's-almost-white blonde hair out of her face. As she slows her pace to run beside me, she brings with her the rest of the girls. "I didn't know you ran?"
It's not a question- she's just one of those people who lift the tone of their voice at the end of each sentence to make it sound like one.
"I'm don't," I reply, rolling my eyes good-naturedly.
"Oh, we were just talking about that," begins one of the Matthews twins- I honestly don't know which one.
"We didn't think you were a very physical person," finishes the other.
Georgia and Paris Matthews are identical down to the very last invisible face pore and have rarely been apart their entire shared life. This explains why they are both dating boys on the baseball team- Georgia is with Rusty, Paris with Sellers- and how they finish each other's sentences like a mad science experiment gone hinky. They creep me out a little.
"I'm not," I say.
"So why are you running if you don't run, and why are you being physical if you're not a physical person?" asks Katie Robinson softly. She's just as soft spoken as Michael, which is probably why they make such a good couple.
"That's my fault," answers Emily on my behalf. "I wanted a friend to come running with me."
"Oh," replies Izzie, nodding. It occurs to me that the time she and Aiden spend together must be very quiet, considering how little both of them ever say. Just as I think how interesting it would be to sit in on that, Chris calls from the front to Emily.
"Hey, Ging. Come up here and settle something for us."
She waves and runs up to where Rusty and Chris are in a heated discussion.
"So we were also wondering," begins one twin-
"What's it like being friends with Emily?" finishes the other.
Even though they couldn't hide what they're really asking me if they slapped a striped beanie and shirt on it and named it 'Waldo', I pretend I don't get it.
"I don't know," I shrug. "It's busy, you know, 'cause she's so devoted to the team. But it's cool. She's a great friend to have."
"But doesn't it bother you at all?" Katie asks.
"Doesn't what bother me?" I counter, still playing dumb. I want to drag this out as long as I can; maybe if I do it long enough, they'll begin to hear how narrow their minds are.
"That she's- well- gay," offers Natalie who slips a stage whisper in at the end.
"No."
I don't offer more, but I steal a look at them as we round a turn that will take us down Main Street. The confusion on all of their faces- except Izzie, she's as blank as unused film in a camera- is just delicious.
"It doesn't bother you?" asks Katie, like she didn't hear.
"I said no."
"But-" starts Natalie, but I cut her off.
"Look, I just don't see why I should care."
"Because, August," starts one twin-
"You're a girl," finishes the other.
Oh, how astute.
Someone needs to check these girls' brains out- not only are their speech patterns lining up, so are their homophobic tendencies. It's freaky.
"Yes, I am lacking in testosterone," I reply, proud of how much of a smart-ass I'm being. I hope they hear the sarcasm dripping from my words, because that's how I intended it.
"But what if she... likes you?"
Though I had suspected that this is the reason I am the only female friend Emily has managed to make, it sickens me to hear it come from somewhere other than my own thoughts.
I know I'm waiting a bit to respond and, thankfully, Jonathon calls back to us and gives me more time.
"Half a mile more, then regroup before sprints!"
I look at the girls, having decided what to say.
"If she likes me, she likes me. She knows where I stand."
It's not really a lie.
"Ladies, what are we talking about?" asks Emily when she falls back to us, the boys' argument apparently resolved.
"Oh, well..." Natalie starts, but she seems to lose her words.
"Your sexuality," I say.
"Oh," replies Emily, only looking a little surprised. "Yeah, I'm such a lesbian."
Good Lord.
The girls all smile uncomfortable and fake laughter.
I would too, in their position. I can't believe those girls for the questions they asked me- no, that's a lie. I can believe them. I knew they would have those questions; I just never really thought they would ask me them. Even though I'm mostly pissed off at them, I'm also a little mad at Emily. I really don't see why she can't just keep her mouth shut for once. When people ask her about how she's gay, it really wouldn't hurt for her to just tell them that it's not up for discussion.
So when we regroup and Jonathon tells us that we're all basically the same distance from home from where we stand, and that we all need to sprint on the home stretch, I'm okay with it. In fact, I'm never been so happy to run as fast as I can.
~~~
Fifteen minutes later, as Emily and I walk into her house for a drink of water, and she tells me that I did a good job keeping up with everyone, I try not to be rude, but I am anyway.
"What's wrong?" she asks me.
"Nothing, Em. I'm fine."
"Bullshit," she calls me out. "What's wrong, Aug?"
"Just- those stupid girls, and-" I sigh. "I just wish you could change the subject for once when someone wants to talk about your sexuality."
"Why?" she asks, confused. "I feel like I'm lying if I do. It's a big part of who I am, you understand that."
"Yeah, I do. But when they're all asking what it's like for me to be a friend who is also a girl of a lesbian, it doesn't really help for you to break in and go 'Oh yeah, huge lesbian, right here'."
She rolls her eyes at me.
"How was I supposed to know what they were asking you? You're the one who said you were all talking about me being gay."
"Yeah, well, I couldn't exactly say 'Oh, lesbian girlfriend, we're discussing how they still think I'm straight, and they're wondering if it creeps me out to think that you might like me', now could I?" I ask, rolling my eyes right back at her.
"No, I guess you couldn't," she says, flopping down on the living room couch. "But you could have tried to give me a better idea of what's going on."
"Yeah, I totally could have," I say sarcastically. "And while I was at it, they would have gotten a better idea, too- of how I'm not straight."
"I'm sorry that you're having in-the-closet problems, Aug. I am," she says, and she pats the couch next to her. "But forget about it, okay? It's going to be fine. You're getting worked up over nothing."
Really?
"Nothing?" I ask, practically spitting the words. "Look, I don't know if you remember what it's like to be in the closet. Knowing you, you were only there for a few minutes, and you think it's comfortable- really nice. Well, it's not. It's dark, and it's cramped, and it's really, really scary."
She's staring at me, wide-eyed. I know she's never expected this out of her tea-drinking, movie loving girlfriend, so I figure I may as well get it all out.
"So while you're having fun, shoving it down everyone's throats that you're a lesbian," I continue. "Here I am, watching from the closet, as everyone's slowly noticing that I, a tomboy girl, am the lesbian's best friend."
She doesn't say anything, and I go on.
"And you know what? It's almost painful. The looks, the questions- everyone's watching me, and it hurts, Emily. It's hurts, because I can't tell anyone."
"So why don't you just end the pain?" she finally responds. "Tell them. Tell your parents."
"Because, Em, they would hate it. They'd be horrified."
"But how do you know? That's what I thought about my parents too, but they were great."
"Because- they're my parents, not yours. And- and that's what happens when people raise you. You end up knowing them."
She looks down at her hands on her lap.
"But your parents like me, I mean, at least your mom does," she says. "Wouldn't they be glad that, even though you're dating a girl, you're dating me?"
She's not getting it.
"No, see, that's the thing," I reply. "They would use the fact that I'm bi- not all the way gay- as the silver lining on the rainclouds over their parade. I may like girls, but hey, I still like guys too!"
"So?"
"So, it would be better in my parents' eyes for me to date some idiotic, rude, disgusting guy- like Sellers, even- than date someone like you."
"Because I'm a girl," she sighs.
"Now you're catching on!" I say with biting sarcasm. " Yes, because you're a girl."
I know that I've just crossed a line I promised I would never even toe for Em- I've just treated her like she's stupid. I hate myself for it, but I'm not about to take it back.
She's shaking her head at me in disbelief, her eyes narrowed in disgust.
"You know what, August?"
"What?"
"I think you're just afraid. I don't really think that you know that this is going to happen. I think you've just scared yourself into believing it. You're just scared."
Is she serious!?
I take a deep breath and then exhale, trying to dispel the shouting that's building in my chest, but it's too close. I try to hold it off.
"Of course I'm scared, Emily," I say. "This is Louisiana, not New York. I can't just bake a cake and burst out of the closet and say 'Hi! I'm bi!' to tell the world like you. It just doesn't work that way."
She sighs in frustration.
"But how do you know if you're not even going to try?"
I can't hold it in any more. I can't help it- I yell.
"Because! I was born here, I was raised here! I've lived here all my life, God damn it! And I've had to watch from the sidelines like a coward- a fucking useless coward!- as anyone who isn't straight is forced to live in Hell! There's no other word for it, Emily!"
Her jaw has dropped and she looks just as angry as I feel, but I'm not going to stop to let her get a word in. I'm not done.
"I know you don't get it, so why don't you do us both a favor and stop pretending that you understand what they're like when their neighbors tell them they're gay! You're safe! You're just another part of the town's freak show, you know that, right? You're protected by the fact that you're not from around here- you don't know any better! But I'm not. I'm not safe!"
I draw a breath, not sure what I'm going to say next, and she tries to reply.
"But-"
I don't care what she has to say. I'm sick and tired of this already. I cut her off.
"No. I'm done."
I head toward her door and she doesn't even get up off of the couch.
"Where the Hell do you think you're going?" she demands softly, sounding like she's been punched in the gut.
"You know what? If you actually care, I'll let you find me."
And then I run out the door.
~~~
AN:
QFC: Does Emily find her? Where does August go?
Much Love and Until Next Time
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