Carl picked us up at ten the next morning, driving us back to his condo where Mitch threw her bags into her truck. Carl and Bridget went inside to give us some privacy. I’d managed to keep it together while we’d been packing up, but as soon as she pulled me into her arms I started to cry.
Mitch let me go for a few moments, stroking my hair as she held me. “Sweetie, hey, it’s okay.” She pulled away slightly, smiling and looking me in the eye before brushing a tear from my cheek. “It’s not like I’m going to war. We’ll be together again in just a few months.”
I could hear the emotion in her voice, how she was trying to be the strong one. “I know.” I forced myself to smile, and she pulled me close, rocking me gently.
“And when we do we’ll have a big bed, and I’ll have a kitchen to cook for you, it’s going to be wonderful.” I sniffled and let her hold me for another long moment, before she kissed my temple. “I love you, Cindy.”
“I love you, too. I love you so much.” I forced a smile. “Don’t forget me.”
Mitch grinned and kissed me. “People don’t forget the love of their lives.”
I let what she’d said sink in as she kissed me again, and let the truth of it surround me. It was probably somewhat naive to assume you’d be with your college sweetheart forever, but in that moment I knew I would be. And that calmed me somewhat. What was three months in the face of a lifetime?
That didn’t fully stop the tears, but I was able to keep a smile as I waved goodbye, watching her drive down the street and around the corner.
***
Despite any epiphanies I may have had in my brother’s driveway, what followed were the longest three months of my life. I worked at the diner, I saw some of my old high school friends, and I hid. My mother was seemingly terrified of me becoming an old maid, always assaulting me with the latest gossip about who was available in our small town. And apparently she’d been shopping me around, too, as I was asked on no fewer than three dates in the first two days.
The easiest thing would have been just to say I was seeing someone, but Mom would have demanded details, and I was scared to put her on that trail. Dad treated me with his normal polite disinterest. He knew Mom was doing her best to get me respectably married off, and that was good enough for him. Any talk about how well my team had done was met with a dismissive “That’s fine, Cindy.”
I talked and texted with Carrie often, but less so with Mitch, just because of my fear. I hated talking to her when my parents were home, which was most of the time, and I definitely couldn’t talk freely with Charlotte around. She was eleven, and in full ‘snooping little sister’ mode. But I did remember how Carl had helped me, so I decided to do as much as I could for her. Which, when you’re a preteen, means taking you places. I’d drive her to friend’s houses, the community pool, the local ice cream parlor, etc. I let her talk about her school. She was just starting to be aware of the opposite sex, and she asked me a lot about what college boys were like. I knew she wasn’t going to get any useful information from our parents, so I tried to give her some solid advice that went beyond ‘just don’t do it’.
I thought about telling Tiwana, but she had gotten a summer job at one of the resorts on the coast, and I barely got to see her. Even that would have been scary, though. There are wonderful things about small towns, but there are some real downsides, too, the main one being that everyone knows everyone, and everyone is always aware of everyone else’s business.
What I really hated was the fear. The constant, ever present anxiety that someone was going to find out I was a lesbian, and that the information would inexorably make it’s way to my parents’ ears. And what really bothered me was the wrongness of it all. I’d been taught since birth that homosexuality was wrong, immoral, against God’s plan, and all that.
And it had all been bullshit. There was nothing more right than being with Michelle, loving and being loved by her. What had been wrong was trying to make relationships with guys I didn’t love work, forcing myself to be intimate with men I had no desire for. God had made me exactly who I am, and He’d gifted me with a wonderful partner, who loved and supported me, who made me feel alive and vibrant in ways I hadn’t known were possible.
I was with someone incredible, but I would be reviled, vilified and rejected just because of her gender, with no regard at all to how amazing she was. I wanted to scream at the unfairness of it.
One of my former classmates got married in June. We hadn’t been close, but our parents knew each other so we went to the wedding and the little cake and punch reception afterwards. I had tears in my eyes as I watched Abigail’s father walk her down the aisle. My mother had completely misread my feelings, patting me on the arm, stating “Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’ll happen. Y’know, there’ll be plenty of nice young men at the reception.”
Obviously that hadn’t been my issue. It was that my father would never walk me down the aisle. My mother would never beam proudly as I posed in my wedding dress. They would do everything in their power to make me feel shame in my choice of partner, caring nothing about how happy I was, interested only in how my unnaturalness made them appear to our small town society.
I looked around the hundred and fifty or so people in the packed church, and wondered who else was hiding. Who was in a loveless marriage that they felt they had to keep up? Who’d been silently forced to give up their great loves to fit in to our bigoted, small-minded society?
Luckily there wasn’t any dancing at the reception, but I still had several potential suitors chat me up. I smiled and made polite conversation, interjecting often how adverse I was to starting any summer romances before returning to campus.
It was Pride Month, and I didn’t see a single rainbow flag in my town, which didn’t surprise me at all. The news covered the parades in Atlanta, and Bridget sent me some pictures of a rally from downtown Savannah. My father would stoically roll his eyes when anyone would mention it, muttering under his breath about the degrading of our country’s values.
July arrived and passed in much the same manner, and I breathed a sigh of relief when the calendar finally turned to August, so I could start counting the days instead of weeks and months. I know you’re probably waiting for something dramatic to happen, but it never did. I did make the change to take my dad off of my accounts. I didn’t hide it from him, but he didn’t complain. And as soon as I had the money transferred I felt a huge wave of relief. Other than my dad still carrying me on his insurance and the family phone plan, I was completely financially independent.
The weekend before I was headed back to campus Carl came and picked me up, and as we pulled up to his condo I saw a blue truck sitting in his driveway.
“Surprise.” Carl was grinning ear to ear, but my eyes were locked on the tall, dark-haired woman leaning against that truck, my smile stretching my cheeks as tears rolled down my face.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, almost jumping out of my brother’s car before it stopped. Mitch was beaming, wearing that radiant grin of hers below her glorious blue eyes, and I threw myself into her arms, wrapping my legs around her waist as she twirled me around, whispering into my ear.
“God, I missed you, baby. Oh, I love you.”
I slid my legs down so I was standing on my own two feet, holding tight to her. “I can’t do that again. I can’t be away from you like that again.”
“I know. Next summer, we’ll find a way. Promise.” She brushed a tear from my cheek with her thumb and kissed me, and I whimpered in joy as our lips made contact for the first time in nearly three months. Suddenly I was whole again, and the world seemed to light up even as my eyes stayed closed.
Eventually we separated, and I giggled in response to the mischievous Mitch grin I was staring at.
“Hi.”
“Hello. I missed you.” I felt the knots created by the summer unwinding as she held me. “Did you miss me?” I looked up through my lashes at her, seeing the emotion raging in her eyes, even as she smirked at me.
“Sometimes.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Most of the time.” A kiss on the cheek. “Every second.” She brushed the hair away from my face, and pressed her lips to mine. This kiss was less desperate, and I was able to enjoy it more, our tongues caressing each other as I savored her soft lips. When it ended I just leaned against her and let her hold me, taking in the smell of her, the feel of her breath in my hair. I was home, safe and loved, here in Mitch’s arms.
“Hey, you two, we’re going to order pizza. If you want any say in the toppings, come inside soon.” Carl was smirking at us from the front patio, and I turned towards him without taking my arms from around Mitch’s neck.
“Okay, go on.”
Mitch gave me another kiss. “We should go in. Don’t want them ordering a bunch of rabbit pizzas.”
“Rabbit pizzas?” We started walking toward the front door, arms still around each other.
“Yeah, y’know, pizza with rabbit food on it. Like onions and green peppers.”
“I love green peppers.”
“God, I’m in love with a heathen.”
I laughed and tightened my arm around her waist and we went inside.