“Well, you don’t have a car, so you don’t really need auto insurance. Health insurance is a risk, but you’re young and healthy, so a small one. It’s not like we need birth control. And we can figure something out for your phone. So you have to decide.”
I nodded. “You just don’t understand. I’ve never defied my father about anything. I mean, anything major.” Mitch gave me a sideways grin. “Okay, other than dating you. But he doesn’t know about that.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I want that internship. I’ve already accepted it. I mean, this would mean I could work almost anywhere when I graduate.”
“Then call him and tell him. Not ask, tell.”
“You don’t know my dad.”
“No, I don’t, but I know you, and you’re strong enough to do this.”
“And if he cuts me off?”
“I don’t think it’ll come to that, but if he does, we’ll deal. Together.”
I wrapped my arms around her and let her hold me close for a few minutes before I pulled away.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
I took a deep breath and pressed my father’s icon on my phone. He didn’t even say hello.
“Cindy, I told you I’m done talking about this.”
I could feel Mitch bristle at his dismissive tone, and my own temper rose as well. “Well, I’m not. I’m taking the internship. I’ve already accepted it.”
“You don’t speak to me that way, young lady.”
“Sorry, but I’m not asking.”
“Do I need to come and bring you home? Because I will.”
“You can’t, Dad. I’m an adult, whether you admit it or not.” My heart was in my throat, but Mitch was nodding to me as I paced around our little apartment, giving me strength.
“You are my daughter, my responsibility, and under my authority until you have a husband. Something that can’t happen soon enough, I think. Am I understood?”
I looked wide-eyed at Mitch, who narrowed her eyes and nodded, silently telling me I can do this.
“I understand. But you need to understand that I’m taking this internship, and if you come and try to take me home I’ll call the police.” I pressed the disconnect icon and tossed my phone on the couch, shaking.
Mitch gathered me into her arms. “You were awesome.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Sure you could’ve. But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”
My phone began to buzz almost immediately, and I sent my dad’s call straight to voicemail. About an hour later my brother called.
“Well, I think I have him talked out of showing up on your doorstep.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Yeah. It took me pointing out that if we tried we’d be arrested.”
Mitch laughed and spoke up. “He wanted you to help?”
“Of course, as his son it’s my responsibility to help keep my sisters in line, apparently.”
I did have a conversation with my mother later that evening, where she implored me to just do what he said. “He just wants what’s best for you, Cindy.”
“No, he doesn’t, Mom. He wants what he thinks is best for him, just like always. This internship is what I want. It’s what’s best for me and my career, which I am going to have, by the way. I will not be a housewife.”
“What’s wrong with being a housewife and a mother?”
“Nothing. If that’s what I wanted, I’d do it. I don’t fault any woman, or man, for that matter, who does. But it isn’t what I want, Mom. And I can still be a mother and have a family.”
She tried to change my mind for a while longer before giving up, and I waited anxiously for the next few days to see if the service to my phone would cut off. It never did, though.
The season ended in another SEC title and a deep run in the NCAA tournament. Heather, our top senior, made it all the way to the quarterfinals in the singles tournament, which was awesome. She’d decided that she was going to go pro, and was headed out onto the Challenger circuit with a coach and agent and everything. Nothing like the entourages the top pros have, but it was impressive to little old us.
Carl and Bridget made it to a few matches, and I got updates from my brother about Dad and Mom. There had been complete radio silence from the homestead itself. My texting conversation with my little sister Charlotte stopped though, and I’m pretty sure Dad made her block me. Probably what scared me most was that my defiance might cost her the opportunity to go to college or to pursue the activities she wanted.
I relayed those fears multiple times to Mitch, and she would just tell me that I am not responsible for my parent’s actions, or their overreactions, for that matter. I tried to believe her.
Before we left for the summer we re-upped our lease, with no increase in rent, thank goodness. It felt nice knowing we had our little love nest to return to after our grand adventure in the city.
The neatest thing was that just as we got settled, the calendar turned to June. I’d spent last Pride Month in my tiny Georgia town pretending that firstly, it wasn’t happening and secondly, that I wasn’t gay. I’d also had to smile at redneck assholes who made petty to disparaging to downright vicious comments about gay people while I served them bacon cheeseburgers and French fries or biscuits and gravy, all while silently hoping the food would clog their arteries sooner rather than later. I guess that was a little petty too, but I’m only human.
But Atlanta was completely different. Probably not everywhere, but so many businesses had pride flags in their windows that I felt like I was living in a wonderland.
“You want to do the parade?”
I looked at Mitch, who was grinning ear to ear. “You mean like, go see it?”
“No, that’s not what I mean at all.”
I put an innocent lilt into my voice. “But I don’t have anything to wear.”
Mitch shot me a wolfish grin. “We can fix that.”
We spent the next hour scouring the internet trying to find the perfect rainbow colored dress for me. I couldn’t stop smiling the whole time, and we ended up ordering a knee length sleeveless summer dress with a faux-wrap bodice. Mitch ordered a T-shirt that said “I’m her butch” with a rainbow arrow in the pointing to one side. She also ordered us matching “I’m hers,” “She’s mine,” T-shirts in rainbow prints.
So it was that on a sweltering Saturday in June I found myself milling about with hundreds, if not thousands, of other people in a riot of colors. Walking out of our little studio apartment I wondered if my dress was too garish, but compared to many of the other outfits in the crowd it was downright tame. Mitch was wearing her new T-shirt and loose jeans with one of those looping chains, her short, dark hair parted and combed to the side with the bangs swept up, looking every inch the beautiful butch that she was, with her gorgeous blue eyes sparkling in excitement.
There were several people there doing face painting, so I sat down and had a small rainbow flag painted on one cheek, with interlocking rainbow feminine symbols on the other. And so we marched. People on the streets waved and cheered, there was music and dancing everywhere. I’ll admit my heart was beating a little fast, but I was happy, accepted, surrounded by family I’d never met. There was the slightest chance I might end up on film that my dad would see, but I figured the risk was minimal.
Mitch was in full ‘never met a stranger’ mode, hugging and shaking hands with everyone, always introducing me as her girlfriend. And whenever she did there was a note of such pride in her voice that made me feel so loved. And it wasn’t just her. To be honest it was similar to the feeling I got at Georgia Football games. Even if you didn’t know everyone, or even anyone, we were all together, one family.
We ended up going out to dinner with a few couples we met at the parade, telling stories about how we all met, how we realized we weren’t straight, and sharing coming out stories. I was mostly quiet for the latter, and our new friends took little time to figure out the reason for that.
They ran the gamut, from accepting families like Mitch’s to initially rejecting families that came around, to families that had completely disowned their daughter. The woman who came from that family, Petra, was older than us, early thirties, I’d guess. There was a pained look in her eyes as she talked about it.
“I went through a lot of depression, even had thoughts of suicide when I was younger. But when I owned it, accepted it, and stood up for myself it got better, even if my family wouldn’t acknowledge me. It took a toll on my relationships, too, but when I met Deb it got better. She encouraged me to see a counselor, helped me see I was worth something.”
Petra’s wife reached out and took her hand. Even though same sex marriage was still illegal in Florida, they’d traveled up to Massachusetts and tied the knot. They’d been together almost ten years, and the affection between them was obvious. As they smiled at each other Mitch’s palm slipped up against mine, and I squeezed it back. That was us someday, and I wanted it. I wanted to spend my life with Michelle Kirkpatrick, to be her wife, to share children with her. Deb and Petra’s two children were spending the day with their grandparents, and they couldn’t stop showing us pictures, which was adorable.
After dinner we all went out for drinks and dancing, and it was so cool, seeing couples of every possible configuration around us. The only requirement was to be yourself, and be with someone you wanted. I wanted to be with Mitch. Whether she was showing off her crazy moves or holding me close during a slow song, I couldn’t stop smiling.
Eventually she brought me back to our apartment, slipping on the strap on and taking me gently to heaven. I adored feeling her inside me, the gentle friction, the deep pleasure. There was no more worry about pain or disappointment, and I could just relax into the bliss of being loved. I felt like a woman, instead of a kid. I wasn’t just fooling around, I was making love to my partner. And with all that, I had no trouble accepting the orgasms that wracked my body as Mitch sent me soaring higher and higher.
It was a wonderful summer. My internship was really interesting. I was reviewing small accounts, $100K to a Quarter Million, making sure they all met the standards set and seeing if they qualified for additional or new services. I was even encouraged to make suggestions regarding the distributions. Granted, those weren’t really taken seriously most of the time, but my supervisor gave me honest feedback, and I got to learn about how private assets were managed in the real world, instead of the theoretical bubble presented to us in college.
Mitch and I took every opportunity to explore the city. We went to festivals, including a food & wine festival, an ice cream festival, and a film festival. We also spent a few fun Saturdays exploring Five Little Points. I got to have Ethiopian food for the first time and we saw a few local bands perform at the playhouse.