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I felt nervous, like I always did before a big cheer competition, but excited too. Like I was about to do something so forbidden and off limits that would lead to a massive adventure. “I’ll go,” I said. “With you.”
“Yes!” Stefon reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I can already tell college is going to be amazing for us.”
Dillon said, “College is the best. You’re going to love it.”
I sure hoped so. “I’ll drive my car over there. Where should we meet?”
Stefon and Dillon glanced at each other, as though they were already so in sync. I had to ask Stefon later why he hadn’t told me about Dillon sooner. Surely he knew his secrets were safe with me.
“Maybe Main and Eighth?” Stefon said.
“I’ll see you there.” We all got up, and I lifted my purse strap over my shoulder. Dillon and Stefon got in Stef’s car, and I got in mine, and I realized there was something else amongst my nerves.
I was feelinglonely. For the last four years, Stefon had been my person. I told him everything, even things I didn’t say to my best girl friends on the cheerleading squad. But I had to be honest with myself.
Stefon wasn’t my boyfriend. He was my friend. And there had been a part of me, deep down, that knew what we had couldn’t last. Soon we’d be out in the “real world” teachers always talked about, living life on our own for the first time ever.
Stefon had already started living his.
Maybe it was time for me to do the same.
There was so many ways I knew how to exist as a lesbian—not make a face when someone made a joke about gay people or used the word “gay” as an insult. Keep my eyes down when my grandparents spoke about the “right” way to live. Ignore comments from my parents about me marrying Stefon someday and making babies with him.
But I had no idea how to flirt with girls, how to tell if they were gay or straight or even interested in me. Maybe that was part of it, figuring out how to exist as a gay person when the world defaulted to straight.
The road was getting busier and slower the closer I got to Main Street, and that exciting tingling was back. These people were here to celebrate who I was, not to tear it down. Just the thought brought a smile to my face. I wasn’t alone, no matter how much I may have felt that way.
I parked along a side street and began walking toward the crossroads of Eighth and Main. It wasn’t super crowded, but there was a good turnout. I looked amongst all the people and saw Dillon and Stefon walking toward me, holding hands.
I wondered what it felt like for them... to hold the hand of someone they liked.
Stefon and I had only ever held hands out of obligation, and I’d felt... safe, supported, but never those excited jitters I read about in books or heard people talk about on TV.
I looked up from their clasped hands and into their faces. “Do you know when it’s starting?”
The sound of music played far away, and Stefon grinned. “Now?”
“Should we sit?” Dillon asked, gesturing at an open space on the sidewalk.
I nodded. “Let me run and grab a blanket from my car. I have one in the trunk.”
“Want me to come with you?” Stefon offered.
I almost said yes. I was so used to having him by my side. But I shook my head and smiled. Things were different now. “Hang out with Dillon. I’ll be right back.”
I walked back toward my car, the sound of my flip-flops against the sidewalk keeping pace with the drumbeats far away. I could get used to being on my own, with enough practice. And what was possible for me now without my obligation to Stefon? A romance? An adventure?
I hoped so.
I pulled the blanket from my trunk, shook out what was left of sand from the beach, and walked back toward Main Street. From here, I could see a craftsman house across the way, completely decked out with pride decorations. From the windows to the flags along the front entrance, everything was done to the hilt.
I wondered who lived in that house. If they were a gay couple themselves, if they had a child who was trans maybe. The thought of there being so much support there made me smile.
When I reached Stefon and Dillon, Stef took the blanket and spread it on the sidewalk for us. Stefon sat in between the two of us, and I couldn’t help but think this was the perfect picture, the poetic transition between his old life and his new one.
I held up my phone and said, “We have to take a selfie.”
We all grinned at the camera, and I froze the moment forever, wanting to remember that if Stefon could do this, so could I.
