 Andie stuffed the last storage bin in her car and closed the door. she was relieved a sliver of visibility remained from the driver’s seat through to the back window. after driving for only a few moments, her phone began buzzing. when she stopped at a gas station and glanced at the texts piling in, her suspicions were confirmed: her friend since childhood, her flatmate Bethany, had adopted one of the small feline siblings of Andie’s grey kitten, Pepper. she smiled to herself and went to pump gas, hearing the phone jingle with new messages even as she closed the door. the gas station building was tiny so she was grateful the afternoon was a quiet one. only as she had finished paying and was leaving did another customer come in. as Andie drove, questions flittered through her mind. she wondered what Bethany would name Pepper’s sibling; why the driver of the SUV in front of her had failed to signal their intent to merge into her lane before doing so; what it was about the person who had entered the gas station as she had left that made her feel clunky. the last question lingered as she reached the toll highway and paid the amount to continue her journey toward Levettport. upon arriving at her apartment, Andie found Bethany in name-deliberation mode. Andie listened, helping when possible, as she unpacked the last of her belongings. Pepper provided emotional support; curled in the corner of the windowsill in Andie’s bedroom, Pepper found she could observe snacks of the avian variety frequenting the trees outside. by evening, the tiny mewing fluffball, Pepper’s calico sister, was named Luna. to celebrate, Bethany made herself a snack. butter, cinnamon, and sugar went onto toast, the toast onto a plate, then the last plate in the apartment was dirty. Andie made a strawberry mango smoothie and sat across from Bethany. “we should really tackle the plate problem soon,” said Andie; her friend nodded in agreement. when the pair had combined their kitchen items upon moving into the apartment, a mountain of cookware, bowls, cutlery, and various cups emerged - but only two plates. Andie and Bethany went shopping for plates the next day. at the store, Andie found the plates first. the only other person in the aisle looked up, smiled, set their selected dishes in their basket, then left the aisle. Andie felt fine - not clunky in the least. puzzled, she went to search for Bethany. as they continued to shop, Andie tried to work out why some people made her feel clunky, when around most others - like the fellow shopper and Bethany - she felt fine. later that night, when Andie and Bethany were playing with Pepper and Luna, Andie asked: “do you ever feel clunky?” “when I was in all my goalie gear for hockey I felt clunky. much less than when I did figure skating, that’s for sure.” “no, I mean, around other people.” “what d’you mean by clunky, then?” asked Bethany. “feeling out of sync with regular movement, or like you take up more space than usual.” “sorry, no. why d’you ask?” “I feel that way around certain people - like yesterday on my way here. it’s been happening for a while now.” “was it crowded, or something? maybe that’s why?” “no,” said Andie. “I think it’s something about the person.” Pepper and Luna tumbled into one another and endangered Andie’s mug of tea, so she moved it. then she let the topic tumble away too. a few weeks later, after busy days at work, Andie and Bethany went to the opening night of a movie. Andie was somewhat interested - Bethany was ecstatic, ensuring they arrived early, as if they were getting a score, one dependent upon arrival time. Andie had not read the novel the movie was based on and was vaguely aware it was set in a city…perhaps a suburb; Bethany was almost bursting in her effort not to spoil it and chastised her friend as gently as she could for not having read the book. as the movie began, Andie noticed the theatre fall away. once it ended, she nearly sprinted into the hallway, catching her breath as if she had sat through a horror film; the movie, a comedy and drama, had been a youthful romance. the noises of people passing her rushed once more into her ears after moments of deafness. “are you okay?” asked Bethany, upon catching up with her. “yeah,” said Andie. Bethany looked unconvinced, but remained silent. Andie spent the next day, Saturday, hiking with a friend from college. when she arrived home, the apartment was empty - Bethany was out on a date. after a warm shower, Andie decided to unwind by watching something. nothing in her movie collection drew her attention and she had already rewatched the DVDs of her favourite TV series the weekend before. she ventured to the living room in hopes that something in one of their subscription apps would spark her interest. Pepper curled onto the couch beside her as she turned on the television. absentmindedly, she clicked on one of the apps; Bethany had introduced her to the group - a production company that created silly videos, animated series, various podcasts, and movies. though at first reluctant to watch the content, Andie had gradually grown interested. the videos had proved especially useful during study breaks over the previous year - her final year at college - as well as during evenings as a way to reset after a day of work. Andie watched one of the strange-yet-humorous animated shorts, then a live-action clip, before selecting one of the podcasts. she had watched a few of the podcast’s episodes with Bethany; every now and again an insight, a memory, or a question in an episode would prompt a discussion. Sunday morning, Andie went for a run. pausing on Levettport’s boardwalk to stretch, she looked toward Bwynn Isle in the bay without seeing it. her mind was on something one of the podcast guests had said; “growing up, nobody talked about bisexuality. it wasn’t until the end of high school I even heard the term, and only in college did anyone I know come out as bi.” the podcast guest’s journey to discovering their sexuality had been hindered by stigma, as well as misconceptions that gay and straight were the only two sexual orientations. the following Friday, Andie and Bethany invited a few friends over to their apartment. a favourite game of the evening consisted of pairing a phrase on white cards with a situation on black cards, a process which resulted in increasingly strange combinations; the laughter increased accordingly. Saturday morning, Andie and another early-riser went on a run. the pair stopped to stretch on Levettport’s boardwalk, reminiscing about the previous evening. “Bethany seems happy,” the friend observed. “I’m glad she found someone who’s as strange as she is,” they added with a smile. “yeah,” Andie agreed, smiling too. as Andie and her friend ran back to the apartment, a person they passed made Andie feel clunky. that evening, Andie and Bethany were alone in their apartment making pizza. Andie was quiet as they ate, her mind buzzing. “you’re pretty quiet for pizza night,” said Bethany. “it’s one of your favourite meals.” “just thinking,” said Andie. Sunday morning, Andie went running - then the next morning, and the next. why did some people make her feel clunky? why had a romance movie left her standing stunned and breathless outside the theatre? why were the podcast guest’s words ringing in her ears, almost two weeks later? she left the questions on Levettport’s boardwalk and continued her week. by Wednesday evening, the questions persisted - blatantly disregarding her request for them to remain on the boardwalk. unable to sleep, she pulled an empty journal off her shelf and put pen to paper. every evening for the rest of the week, she did the same. “Andie?” a voice woke her. Saturday sunlight was flooding the room when she opened her eyes. Bethany stood beside her bed. “hey,” said Andie, blinking tiredly. “what time is it?” “one thirty,” answered Bethany, kneeling to pick something up off the floor, “in the afternoon.” she set Andie’s journal on the nightstand. “come and eat,” she said as she left, keeping the door ajar. Andie glanced at her journal; it was nearly half finished. she burrowed into a sweatshirt and made her way to the kitchen, following the scent of bacon and eggs. as they ate, Andie noticed her friend’s gaze fell on her more than usual. after they ate, Andie tried to do the dishes; “it’s okay, I’ll do these,” said Bethany. so Andie went to take a shower. she felt more functional afterward, even though the day was half over. she found Bethany reading on the couch in the living room and sat on the armchair across from her. “um…you know how…well, um…” Andie trailed off, tracing a pattern on the armchair’s fabric. quietly setting the book down, Bethany looked over at her friend. Andie had shared many things with Bethany through the years, but found her thoughts resisting being formed into words. Pepper pounced onto her lap and curled up, kneading her legs as gently as a grey fluffball with claws could. “I’m bi,” said Andie. “okay,” said Bethany, as Luna jumped up beside her. the tiny kitten took up the remaining length of couch with her small body. “I knew there was something - I woke up before you on a weekend, after all.” she smiled and began petting Luna. Andie smiled back. “I feel silly, that I didn’t realize it before now. you came out ages ago!” “well, I’m not out out,” said Bethany. “can you imagine if my grandma knew?” “your stories of her are rather intense,” said Andie. “I want to tell my parents and Amy though. I think they’ll be alright with it,” she said, thinking of how well her sister, Amy, had taken Bethany’s coming out - one of the few in their childhood group who knew Bethany was bisexual. “I’ve talked some about the podcast with my parents and - ” “how much of the podcast?” asked Bethany, with a wry smile. in her surprise she had stopped petting Luna, who meowed her objections. “just a few things.” Andie smiled. “I asked my parents what they thought about the either or thing; how some people think there’s gay and straight and nothing else.” “what’d they say?” asked Bethany, as she resumed petting Luna. “people should be able to love whoever they want to,” said Andie. “as long as those involved are old enough, it’s safe and consenting, and all that.” “they’re adorable! I wouldn’t even know where to begin to mention it to my mom - maybe my dad - but, I don’t know. you didn’t tell them about me, did you?” “no,” said Andie. “thanks. so, is that how you realized? the podcast?” “it was a lot of little things, you know?” “yeah.” Andie scratched Pepper’s ears and thought a moment, then asked: “do remember that conversation we had, a bit after you came out to me, when I told you how I knew, or thought, I was straight?” “not really.” “I said something about how, to figure out if I was gay or straight, I asked myself: ‘which one’s bigger, my attraction to men or to women?’ and since I answered ‘men’, I figured: ‘okay, I’m straight.’ but I never realized having attraction to more than one gender could be its own thing.” “well, it’s up to you how you identify, what you want to label yourself as,” said Bethany. “if you even want a label, that is.” “yeah,” agreed Andie. Pepper hopped from her lap onto a fuzzy mouse toy on the floor. Luna looked on from her perch on the couch, curiosity eroding her effort to appear indifferent. “of course, there’s nothing wrong with saying you’re bi, if that fits you,” said Bethany. “obviously,” she added with a smile. “you don’t mind if there are two of us? in our group, I mean.” “I mind a lot, actually,” Bethany said, smiling. “I said it first, after all, so I’d appreciate it if you found a different label.” “so, maybe…narwhal?” “yes. thank you for respecting my feelings.” they laughed. Luna pounced onto her sister; curiosity had won. Pepper and Luna tumbled toward the wall, then Luna darted into the kitchen and Pepper followed. “lately I’ve been thinking,” Andie began, “reflecting, about growing up. I had crushes on guys in my classes when I was in elementary school - ” “the ones you’d keep secret and put your first name with their last name in those silly games?” “yeah.” “how could those not become your forever love?” “exactly.” Andie laughed. “but then, I remembered other crushes, on girls, back when I was in elementary school. and how in high school I had a conversation with…” her face grew very warm at the thought of saying the name of their mutual friend; “Willow. I talked to her about how I felt about girls. and about her.” “what’d she say?” “that she didn’t feel the same way,” said Andie. “the thing with Willow, and other girls, is that my feelings for them got tucked away because my attraction toward guys was bigger. but they never went away, those feelings. and I never realized I fit into anything else but straight since I wasn’t a lesbian.” Luna and Pepper sped into the living room and somersaulted over one another, colliding hard with the foot of Andie’s armchair. Pepper darted away under the couch; Luna pounced onto a feathery toy. “how do you feel now?” asked Bethany. “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest,” said Andie. “but I’ve got to be careful how I say it. not to you, but to others. for some people, if they hear I just realized something, or that it just clicked, they might think it’s something new.” “yeah. I had the same thing with a friend in college. she knew I was bi, but then I started dating a girl, so my friend thought I was a lesbian. I was frustrated because it’s not about who I’m dating, it’s about how I feel. and the girl I was dating had first identified as bi as a way to get her parents used to it, so that adds to the confusion too.” “for sure,” said Andie. “I had a hard time wrapping my head around how bisexuality isn’t about shifting between two different sexualities, that it’s its own.” “I see sexual orientation, and gender too, on a spectrum,” said Bethany. “I think it’s neat, but I honestly didn’t give it much thought before I realized I was bi. unfortunately some people think bisexuality only supports a binary view of gender. and others think it excludes trans people - but there are trans people who identify as bi too!” Andie considered Bethany’s statement. she watched as Pepper scampered by Luna, swiping at the feathery toy. Luna jumped in surprise, and the kittens set off at a run toward the hallway. “if I found myself attracted to someone,” Andie began, “and both of us were available, and we clicked together on a deep enough level, I’d want to be with them. I guess you could say I’m attracted to people - that it’s more about someone’s personality than where they identify on the gender spectrum.” “that’s good you know what attraction means for you personally, regardless of what label it’s given,” said Bethany. “I also think it’s neat how, as tolerance and acceptance have increased, more people are comfortable coming out. not every place or family is safe, but it’s getting better.” “yeah.” “so, do you think this is why you were feeling clunky?” “yeah. at first I thought maybe it was a self-esteem thing, ‘oh their hair’s nicer,’ or ‘their body’s more toned,’ or something. but now I realize I was attracted to them.” “do you think you have a type?” asked Bethany, a mischievous smile playing on her face. “yeah,” said Andie. she felt her cheeks growing warm. “through journaling I realized there are a few different things.” Bethany’s smile widened. “oh, hush,” said Andie, smiling too. as the next week unfolded, Andie progressed into a second journal. she was also able to have rich conversations with Bethany. she got nervous as Thursday approached - the day she would talk with Amy. however, when the time came and they spoke, it went even better than Andie could have expected. she hoped the meeting with her parents on Saturday would go just as well. Saturday morning on Andie’s run, as she was leaving the Levettport boardwalk, another person arrived with their dog. the dog greeted her excitedly; “sorry,” the person said, smiling apologetically. “he’s always hyper around new people.” “it’s okay,” said Andie, smiling back. Andie noticed flecks in the person’s eyes catching the sun and she thought their hair, gathered in a ponytail, flowed nicely; it surprised her, noticing such things in the moment. she chatted easily and took up just the right amount of space. she no longer felt clunky, because she had decoded what clunky meant - why the feeling had been there at all. her heart was learning who all it had loved. naming Andie’s bisexuality gave all her romantic feelings toward others somewhere to call home - together. as she finished her run, Andie noticed the sun was brighter; whether it was the sun outside her, within her, or both, she wasn’t sure. just before noon, Andie drove up the highway - far enough that tolls were no longer required - to her parents’ home. a moment arrived in their lunch conversation that felt right. with shaky insides, cheeks red and warm, she began. her parents listened, asking questions of their own, to their daughter’s story. it changed nothing. it changed everything. Comments are closed.
|
{By TOPIC}
All
|
RSS Feed
 This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. |
|