The music system, on the other hand, was slammin’. I stayed on the outskirts, doing my best impression of a wallflower. Saying I was nervous was an understatement, but I needed to get the show on the road before I lost all my nerve.
I moved out onto the dance floor, pushing aside my nerves. I tried to focus on the music, and had almost succeeded when I felt a hand on my hip.
I started, turning around a little too quickly, bumping into a tall, broad chested young man. I took a step back. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
He smiled at me. It was a nice smile, I guess. It didn’t creep me out too much, at least. “It’s okay. You here alone?”
“I have some friends around.”
He grinned and moved a little closer. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh. Then yes.”
“Good.” He slipped his arms around my waist. “In that case would you like to dance?”
“Sure.” I forced myself to reach up around his shoulders. My smile stayed intact, not without effort. I had a lot of practice dancing with Ethan when I really didn’t want to, and I put that to use now. I rested my head on his chest and tried to relax. He did smell good, at least. Maybe if I just gave it a chance, this time it would be different.
The music stopped. “Hey, you want to go get a drink?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“So what are you studying”
“Economics. How about you?”
“Criminal justice.”
“So you’re going to put bad guys away?”
“That’s the idea.”
He got me a beer, which I watched him pour and hand to me. We talked about my playing tennis, and he told me some crazy stories about frat life. He was funny, but obviously on the prowl, as he was getting a little closer every chance he got. Eventually he led me back out to the dance floor, and he held me close, cheek to cheek. After a minute he turned his face toward me, pushing my nose to the side and kissed me.
Until that moment I had hope. He was nice, tall, well made. Maybe this one I’d like. Maybe this time all those things I’d read about and seen in the movies would happen, finally. Maybe it would feel as wonderful as it had when Mitch and I had, no, don’t think about that.
Nothing. God bless it, nothing. He deepened the kiss, apparently completely oblivious to the way I was feeling. I allowed it, because that was what I did. But I wanted it to stop. After a few moments it did. He looked down at me, completely misreading my expression.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”
“I don’t…”
“It’s fine, it’s my house.” He pulled me back deeper into the building and I followed. Looking back now I don’t know why I did. The dancing, the kissing, it was all wrong. And this, going upstairs with him, it was beyond stupid. But I did it, my last, desperate attempt to deny what was happening in my life.
Suddenly I was alone with him in a room, his room, I guess. He moved me back to the bed, pushing me back onto the mattress before covering me with his body and kissing me again. My brain was reeling. Why was I here? I wanted to be in my room. I wanted Mitch to be holding me. As his hand slipped under my shirt I finally found my voice.
“Stop, stop, please.”
For a horrifying moment I didn’t think he was going to. Panic was just starting to fill me, and I was getting ready to fight when he rolled off me. “What’s wrong?”
I scooted up the bed, tears streaming from my eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“What? Fuck. Seriously? Goddamn, you fucking tease.”
That made me sob harder, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. He rolled off the bed and left, slamming the door behind him as he went, leaving me crying in the dark
What was I doing? Why the hell was I here? What was I trying to prove, and to whom? That I wasn’t gay? Ethan and I had broken up in May, so I’d gone five months without a boyfriend, the longest span since I’d started dating at sixteen. Honestly, I hadn’t missed it at all, and I knew the biggest reason for that was Mitch. I couldn’t even begin to describe how much I wanted her to come rescue me, how badly I wanted to feel her arms around me.
But she wasn’t here. She was six hours away in a hotel, probably making some other girl really happy. I hated that girl, whoever she was. How dare she put her hands on my Michelle? But Mitch wasn’t mine. Why did I think of her that way?
She’d been my other half for months. The one I wanted to talk to when something good happened, the one I wanted to spend time with. I looked down at my phone, pulling up our text string, reading over the little jokes and everyday notes we sent to one another. She was so easy to talk to, always funny, always available. To me anyway. I’d seen her ignore things from others when I was with her, but she never ignored my texts. Maybe Carrie was right, and that meant something.
The door opened, and another couple stumbled in, kissing and fumbling with each other’s clothes. I needed to get out of here.
The young woman noticed me, “Oh, shit, sorry.” She looked closer at me. “Are you okay? Aaron, stop.”
The guy pulled his face out of her neck. “What’s wrong, babe?”
The girl pointed at me and took a step forward. “Sweetie, are you okay? Did something happen?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll go. Sorry.” I walked quickly past them, wiping my eyes before making my way back through the house and out into the night, alone with my thoughts.
If what Carrie said were true, Mitch deserved more than I was giving her. She needed a real girlfriend, not some confused straight girl who’d tease and cuddle but never really be hers. She deserved someone who wanted to be with her in every way, and someday she’d want that, too. And then she’d end up resenting me for putting her through this.
Somehow I managed to end up in front of my dorm, and I made my way up to my room. I stripped off my clothes and grabbed my robe, heading down for a hot shower. I needed to wash this whole experience away. As the water ran over my body the tears came back. They weren’t in response to what had just happened, it would be quite awhile before I grasped how truly lucky I had been regarding that, rather it was the thought of losing Mitch, what it would feel like when she inevitably found someone who’d give her what she needed.
An image of Mitch with another girl jumped into my brain. Mitch was laughing as they hugged, while the other girl’s face was beaming with happiness. Then they kissed. I remembered what kissing Michelle had felt like, the warmth that had flowed through me. Oh my god, I might never feel like that again.
The bathroom stayed blessedly empty while I washed my face, and afterwards I stumbled miserably back to the room. I never even considered climbing into my own bed, instead curling up under the blankets that Mitch and I usually shared. The shirt I’d slept with last night was still tangled up in the sheets, and I pulled it to my face and breathed in Mitch’s scent. I felt so alone, the wrongness of it bringing back the tears, and I cried myself to sleep.
Looking back I feel so stupid, with the answer staring me in the face. But at the time I was heartbroken. I was also exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep, so I dragged my sorry self out of bed and down to the cafeteria for some breakfast. I was so nervous about Mitch coming home. I wanted to see her so badly it was hard to think about anything else, but at the same time I was terrified about listening to any stories she was going to bring back from the wedding.
I sat alone in the corner, picking at my eggs, when two girls came into the cafeteria. One had short red hair, the other’s was longer and brown, and they were dressed nicely, like they might be headed out to church afterwards.
The place was empty and I could easily hear their conversation. They set their trays down and the redhead put her hand on the small of the other’s back, making my eyes go wide.
“You want some OJ, babe?”
“Sure, sweetie, thanks.” The brunette smiled at her girlfriend, and I knew they were together. Red went up to the drink station and grabbed two glasses. When she made it back to her table, the grin on her girlfriend’s face made it obvious how they felt about each other.
Just before Red sat down she ran back up to the front and grabbed a handful of napkins, and when she came back I could see her face, how she was looking at her girlfriend. My mouth dropped open, and I snapped it shut. I recognized that look. I’d seen it dozens of times. It’s how Mitch always looked at me. It was the way she always smiled at me. Maybe Carrie was right.
I took a good look at the other girl. She was very feminine, not at all what I imagined a lesbian would look like. And I realized that I’d always made a distinction in my head between someone who might succumb to Mitch’s charms for an evening, and a real lesbian. But there was the antithesis of my prejudices sitting right in front of me. Seeing her walk down the street I never would have known. She could have been sitting next to me in class or in one of my study groups, and I’d have had no idea.
I watched them as they ate and talked, the easy way they were together. It made me miss Mitch even more. Could I have that with Mitch? The romantic thing to say would be that I had some thunderbolt moment, but the truth is I struggled with it. The concept that I was straight was so central to my way of thinking about relationships that the possibility of anything different was going to take a lot to penetrate my thick skull, but that was the start.
The couple I’d been watching ate quickly, and I watched their hands slip into one another’s as they left. What would it be like to hold Mitch’s hand as we walked, to lean against her knowing there were no boundaries between us? But could I do it?
I’d always prided myself on being a no-nonsense, bottom-line kind of girl. I made decisions with my head, not my heart, and that included relationships. I’d always made decisions, what courses to take, what shots to hit, even who to date, based on what I thought was the smartest thing to do. I mean, if it was the smartest thing, it was the correct thing, right?
And the bottom line was this: I couldn’t be in a relationship with Mitch. I’d lose my family. They’d never accept me as a lesbian. I’d find it hard to get a job, we wouldn’t be able to get married, have children. I wouldn’t be able to have a family. I’d face ridicule and persecution every day. No, it just wasn’t possible. It was the right decision, so why did it hurt so much?