Page 28 of My Own Kind of Person

Why would I be disappointed in getting a good response?

A hand touches my arm.

“Quick,” Elijah says, keeping his hand lightly on me. “Before we get stuck with anyone else.”

His fingernails are short and shiny. He takes his hand away and puts it in his lap.

Like he’s sharing a secret, he leans in. “That baby frat boy spent the entire time interrupting people around us. Neither of us said a word to each other.”

“If you can go the rest of your life without having a conversation with him, that will be a good life.”

He grins. “I love it. I want all the gossip.”

“He’s not that interesting.”

“A sassy voice—this is a new one for you.”

My stomach twists. I try to smile.

“Will you please go first?” he says. “I need a palate cleanser.”

I look at my notes. He needs a palate cleanser. Keep it light. Nobody wants more bummer thoughts.

I tell the same story to Elijah using the same lines I used with Steph. He almost smiles and almost laughs but doesn’t do either entirely. Or not wholeheartedly. His mouth smiles, but his eyes squint, watching me.

When I’m done he says, “That was cute.”

I shrug. “I was raised semi-Catholic.”

He gives serious eyes. “In this case, maybe it saved you.”

“Maybe it did!” I say. “If I’d started making out too young, it might’ve stunted my growth.” This doesn’t get a laugh even though I thought it was good. “Anyway, feedback?”

“It’s funny…” He consults his notebook as though it has his response. “It’s like a billboard against compulsory heterosexuality.”

“I’m gonna have to google that, but I do like billboards.”

“It means everyone is assumed to be straight because that’s what is quote normal.”

“I appreciate you saying quote.”

“Yeah.” He folds his paper in half. “Unspoken words can be…” He folds it in half again. “Frustrating.”

I nod, although I can sense myself fading away. What feeling am I even protecting myself from? “I could see that, about the compulsory stuff.” I search for words. “In the seventh grade, I got into an argument with a kid who came out as gay. I didn’t see how someone could know, so young, how they identified.”

Elijah’s gentle voice acquires a sharpness. “Yet it wasn’t hard to believe every other kid knew they were straight.”

“I guess not, even though that seems absurd now.”

He doesn’t lower his volume. “What if everyone was raised assuming they were gay?” I must make a face, because he says, “I’m not saying they should be, but how would it change how we learn to see ourselves and others?”

“True.” I hear my voice continue, “Maybe it would be best to be raised to think you could be attracted to anyone regardless of gender. Or that attraction itself isn’t compulsory.”

“Maybe.”

Mr. Mazzei watches us from his desk.

“Uh.” I look at my page, trying very hard to focus enough to read it. “Your turn.”