We leave early in the morning for our flight. We get to the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport at around 7 AM. It’s raining a bit; we walk underneath cover to the baggage check.

Being as early as it is, the airport isn’t too busy yet. When we get inside, Ashley’s dad turns to me and asks, “Zoe, I should’ve asked earlier. Have you ever gone through an airport before? It’s quite a process.”

“Yeah, I have. Lots of times,” I say. “We went on trips a lot.”

“Then this should go pretty smoothly,” her dad says. “Let’s get going.”

Ashley’s parents are both fairly energetic this morning. They got us going at around 5 to wake up, get breakfast and load up the car. Thankfully the drive to the airport is not too far, so we are making decent time. We are all dressed for the cool weather. I’m wearing my favorite sweater, a white and lacy one I got for Christmas last year. Ashley is wearing a pale pink hoodie with Blue Devils written on the front, and a strange little B symbol over her back right shoulder. Ashley and I both took a medium-sized suitcase containing clothes and toiletries. Ashley also took her french horn and all of her all-region music. I didn’t bring any instruments; I figured I can just air finger scales or something.

Before too long, we are through security, and waiting in the terminal to board our flight. Neither Ashley or I are very talkative. I’m listening to music on the music player that Anja got me. Ashley is humming something that sounds horribly like her region music. She really never gives it a rest…

We’re boarding our flight shortly after. When we get to ours, Ashley’s dad turns to Ashley and offers, “Here, I’ll get that for you.” She hands him her french horn, and he carefully sets it into the overhead compartment.

“How about you two sit together in another row?” Ashley’s mom offers us. “There’s only three in a row, and we would never want to break you two up.”

“Sounds good,” Ashley agrees.

I sit in the window seat, and Ashley takes the middle seat. I look out the window and watch the rain roll down the side of the plane.

“Are you going to try and sleep a little on the plane?” she asks. “We’ll have a few hours.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I can never sleep unless I’m in a bed. I guess I’m sort of a diva.”

“Are you nervous about meeting my family?” she asks.

“Not too much,” I say. “Are they nice?”

“They’re weird,” she says. “But you’ll be fine.”

There are a few beeping sounds from overhead, and then a voice comes from the speakers. “Good morning, Austin. It’s a mild morning, about 62 degrees and clear skies. We’ll be departing for Sacramento in about five minutes. If this is your first time flying, here’s a rundown of the safety procedures…”

I stop listening here, and instead start skipping through songs on the music player. Nothing really feels right today, for some reason. Finally, I find one which I like, and I put my head back and listen with my eyes closed.

----------------------------------------

We touch down after several hours. After getting our bags, we’re picked up from the airport by Ashley’s aunt and uncle.

I’m taken aback when her Uncle Carl comes up to me, and leans down a few inches to my height. He has dirty blonde hair that is cut very short, like a buzz cut, a tall nose, a few freckles, and blue eyes that seem to twinkle behind his glasses. He’s looking at me with an intense, serious expression. He says, “What are you doing with my niece? Did you teach her this unnatural behavior?”

For a moment, I just stand there stupidly, totally shocked. I tug at the sleeve of my sweater nervously. I thought Ashley said it’d be fine… I wasn’t prepared for this!

But then, his face suddenly relaxes, a huge smile spreading across it. He begins laughing heartily. “Ohoh, she thought I was being serious! I am merely joking. Welcome to our family, Zoe!”

I laugh nervously too, unsure what to think of this.

Back at the car, Ashley’s Aunt Layla is looking straight at me. “Greggory… I hate to be the one to break this news to you,” she says, her voice deep and having a rough-sounding accent. “But I’m afraid your wife is cheating on you with a man who has curly blonde hair.” She looks pretty similar to Ashley’s dad; same hazel eyes and nose. She’s even wearing glasses just like her husband and brother, although she also has sunglasses on over them. Her straight brown hair is all neatly swept back behind her head, held in place by a blue hair clip.

“That’s very funny, Layla,” Ashley’s dad says flatly. “Good joke.”

Soon, we load our luggage into the trunk of their black minivan, and Ashley and I sit in the very back. While Ashley has two cousins, neither of them came with, so I suppose I’ll be meeting them when we get there. The house is about a two-hour drive from the airport. I watch the rain pour down the windshield as we drive. For the beginning of the trip, I listen to what the adults are talking about.

“So, Republicans won big in Congress in 2014, eh?” Uncle Carl says. “Have any hopes? Or any fears?”

“I’ve stopped caring at this point,” Ashley’s mom says bitterly. “They won big in 2010, and our deficits still just keep getting higher. It’s all a scam.”

“If they want to keep deficits down,” Aunt Layla observes, “why keep cutting taxes for the rich? It is a contradiction.”

“Yes, they’ve been stupid about this,” Ashley’s dad comments. “It’s like John B. Anderson said. You can not balance the budget, raise military spending, and cut taxes for the rich all at once. It’s a fairy tale. Forty years later and we still have yet to learn that lesson.”

“I really wish Ron Paul had won,” Ashley’s mom says. “Or Gary Johnson. They were the only ones who could put their money where their mouth is.”

“Ah, those crackpots?” jeers Uncle Carl, laughing. “They’ll cut money from our social security. Not to mention allow abortions and marijuana to be legal.”

“I’ll take that over bankrupting us so we can bomb hospitals and schools halfway across the world,” Ashley’s dad rebuts harshly.

“Marijuana should be a state's rights issue anyway,” Ashley’s mom adds. “They oughtta just repeal the federal ban on it and let states make their own if they want.”

“And I’m tired of the constant fear mongering about immigrants and refugees,” Ashley’s dad continues. “I say, anyone who wants to work for a better life, let them come.”

“But American citizens need to work too,” Aunt Layla counters. “And there are only so many jobs.”

“Most Americans don’t want to work manual labor, though,” Ashley’s mom says. “We’re all too cushy and spoiled. We need more hard workers!”

“Ah, and yet you two work as musicians!” Uncle Carl says, laughing.

“Freelance music is very hard work,” Ashley’s dad says defensively.

“I know. I have to joke, I have to,” Uncle Carl says. “You know we respect what you do.”

“It sounds as if you two are ready to go third party,” Aunt Layla says mockingly.

“We’ll see who gets nominated in 2016,” Ashley’s mom says. “Maybe we’ll learn our lesson and pick someone decent.”

“Ah, I haven’t been tempted by a third party in a long time,” Uncle Carl says nostalgically. “Not since old Ross Perot… they don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”

Ashley is quiet throughout the trip, seemingly not having any interest in weighing in. I lose track of the conversation and entertain myself by watching the scenery we drive past. We pass through a small city named “Davis,” and I jokingly ask if it was named after one of their ancestors. I try to keep track of which businesses I recognize and which ones don’t look familiar. Surprisingly, we pass by a Texas Roadhouse. I thought that it was a Texas chain because, you know, the name has “Texas” in it. In the city of “Vallejo,” we pass by a Six Flags. We’re supposed to go to the one in Dallas in spring for a band trip. We then cross the Napa River and drive along the San Pablo Bay. There are so many Spanish names here, which I think is because California used to be a part of Mexico. I guess that’s something it has in common with Texas. I even see signs for a city named “San Antonio,” the same name as a really big city not far from where we live.

We arrive at their house in Santa Rosa. The house is fairly small like Ashley’s, only being one story. The yard has a few well-trimmed bushes and a couple of small trees. Inside the house, I get to meet Ashley’s cousins. They both have dirty blonde hair like their father and glasses like everyone else. The older cousin, Erin, is about the same age as us. She has facial features and eyes like her mother’s, and her hair is straight and about medium length. The younger cousin, Finn, takes more after his father with his features. His hair is short but fluffy, his eyes are hazel like his sister’s but have that sparkle their dad’s has, and he has bandage over his left cheek.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Hi Ashley. Hi other girl,” Erin greets us. She doesn’t seem the most friendly, giving us a very halfhearted wave and not showing any excitement.

“My name’s Zoe,” I greet. “It’s nice to meet you! You must be Erin.”

“Where did you come from?” Finn asks curiously. “I thought Ashley was the only cousin.”

“Were you not paying attention to Mom and Dad?” Erin questions angrily. “They explained everything already.”

“It didn’t really make any sense,” Finn said. “Why is she here?”

“It’s not our problem that you’re too stupid to understand a basic explanation!” Erin bites at him.

“I’m allowed to ask questions, Erin!” he argues, pushing her. Erin retaliates by punching him in the ribs, and just like that, they’re in a full blown fight.

“HEY!” Aunt Layla yells. “KNOCK IT OFF!” She quickly marches to them and pulls them apart. “Enough fighting! We have company here for God’s sake!”

“Can I take Zoe to my room?” Erin asks. “ He’s just going to annoy her. And me, come to think of it.”

“Oh dear, she just got here,” Aunt Layla responds. “Do you want to traumatize her so soon?” Uncle Carl laughs from across the room.

“I want to go with Erin,” Ashley says quickly. “Come on, Zoe.” Ashley grabs my hand, seeming eager to get away from the rest of the family.

Erin leads us to her room, which is a short walk from the living room and down a hallway. She opens her door, and I only have a few seconds to take in the absolute pigsty Erin has for a room, before I scream and nearly faint at what’s sitting on her dresser; a large, disgusting cockroach!

“You probably should have warned her,” Ashley says to Erin.

“Everything okay back there?” Ashley’s mom calls from the other room.

“THERE’S A BUG!” I cry.

“Oh, be quiet!” Erin berates me. “She’s supposed to be there!”

After looking closer, I notice that this cockroach is in a small mesh cage.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” I say. “I panicked…”

Erin shoots me a dirty look, like I disrespected her cockroach, and then closes the door behind us. She pushes a bunch of clothes that were on her bed onto the floor and then sits on one end, motioning for Ashley and I to sit next to her. I sit down cautiously, looking around to make sure there aren’t any more bugs in here.

“Her name is Ophelia,” Erin explains. “I caught her about an hour ago, and I’m trying to find a bigger thing to put her in so I can study her.”

“What are you going to feed… her?” Ashley asks.

“Well, they eat basically everything,” Erin says. “That’s the easy part. They eat human food… paper… dead bodies of other insects… skin flakes…”

I space out as she continues to say facts about cockroaches, and I watch the thing in its cage with a fascinated disgust. It seems to look right at me, and it sits there wiggling its antennae back and forth. It reminds me of a time when I was young when we went down to Rockport, Texas for a vacation, and stayed in a home where cockroaches were everywhere. They kept getting into my room, and I eventually gave up on sleeping there and tried to hide in the living room. Just the memory of finding a cockroach on my bed makes me grip my sweater tight to steady myself. My brothers just told me to “get over it,” but I really never did. As bad as this memory was, I then start thinking about Ms. Truman’s giant insect form, and how we fought it in that forest, and…

“Erin, cut it out already!” Ashley cuts across her suddenly. “Zoe looks like she’s about to be sick. I don’t think she likes bugs very much.”

“N-no, not really,” I admit.

Erin sighs sadly. “No girl ever does.”

“Zoe… let me give you a little context,” Ashley says helpfully. “My aunt and uncle, similar to my parents, are a little all over the board when it comes to political beliefs. But one thing they totally side with Republicans on is the issue of abortion. They take the view that starting when the sperm fertilizes the egg, that counts as a full human life, and terminating the pregnancy is the same as murder. Erin here decided to apply that same reasoning to non-human creatures. If a tiny little clump of cells is a full human life, why not also fight for the lives of bugs?”

“What, do you think I'm wrong?” Erin challenges.

“Yes. Firstly, I don't agree with the thesis of the so-called ‘pro-life’ argument to begin with. I think it is dangerous to give the government authority over things that are within your own body. Would you be okay with feds coming in and taking out your organs? Second, it is unenforceable, especially when you extend that to non-human life. Are you going to put everyone who steps on an ant on trial for manslaughter? You think that mass incarceration is bad now, just wait for Erin to get in charge of things.”

Erin snorts disdainfully. “Oh, come on Ashley! Have I ever said I want to chuck everyone in prison? I just think that it should be a much bigger deal. We should care about what happens to animals, didn't God create all of them too?”

“Yeah, He did,” I say. “She’s got a point there.” Erin smiles at me.

“I'm just saying, you're taking the idea to a ridiculous extreme,” Ashley says.

“I think it's sad that you think it's ‘extreme’ to protect life!” Erin sasses.

“It is when you apply the concept to tiny clumps of cells.”

“It's still a human life! Isn't there inherently something worth protecting?”

“Well, why stop at fertilized eggs then? The sperm cell is already a ‘human life.’ Why not round up every teenage boy shooting loads into his sock?”

“Ew! Ashley!”

“I'm just saying.”

“Stop making me sound insane. I don't care about people jerking off! That's different, it's not a human life yet.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, feeling lost about where the conservation went.

“We’re talking about abortion,” Ashley says. “It’s when a wo-”

“No no no,” I say. “I know what that is, my parents always talked about it. What’s this about ‘shooting loads’ and ‘jerking off?’”

“Those are slang terms for masturbation,” Ashley says simply.

“Oh…” I say, feeling nervous.

“Yeah, it's this gross thing men do when they don't have a girlfriend,” Erin says with a sneer. “The less said, the better.”

“Well, women do it too,” Ashley adds. “Sort of. It's different for us.”

“I don't,” Erin says.

Ashley looks at her skeptically. “Really? You don't have to hide anything, I'm not afraid to admit I do it sometimes.”

Erin covers her face with her hands. “Ew, Ashley! I didn't wanna know.”

My eyes pop wide open. “Wait... Ashley, you do that?”

“Come on, Zoe,” Ashley says defensively. “I know your parents are fundamentalist wackos, but do you mean to tell me they never even gave you the sex talk?”

“Well, I know some things,” I say, trying and probably failing to not seem stupid. “They show us those videos at school sometimes.”

“Well, those don't tell you nearly everything you need to know. Zoe, what do you think ‘sex’ is? No judgment.”

“Um... it's something men and women do to make a baby.”

“Yes, but what specifically do you do? What's the process?”

“I'm not... totally... sure?”

Ashley nods at me. “Well, here's what it is.” She describes it.

“Blech!” Erin spits.

I try to picture this in my head. “Oh... people just, do that? That's really weird.”

“Well Zoe, I know how you feel. You and I aren’t attracted to men, are we? So nothing about that really seems appealing. Us lesbians have our own ways of doing things. They won’t get anyone pregnant, but they still feel really awesome.”

Erin grumbles under her breath. “Look, sorry I grossed out your girlfriend with the cockroach thing. You can cut it out now, you’ve had your revenge.”

“Oh, right. We don’t have to talk about this right now,” Ashley says. “But it is important for Zoe to learn about. It's part of growing older and becoming an adult.”

“Well, not for us,” Erin says. “You said it yourself, if you’re not attracted to men…”

She stops suddenly mid sentence, looking scared. “Um… here, let me move this…” she hastily picks up Ophelia the cockroach and moves her to another part of the room.

“You’re including yourself in that?” Ashley asks. “This is news to me.”

“Um… well…” she stammers nervously.

“Anything you want to share, it won’t leave this room,” Ashley says seriously. “I promise.”

“I mean… look,” Erin says. “I don’t think it’s like what you guys have. Well, I don’t know, maybe. I’ve just always found sex stuff kinda gross, and I don’t get why everyone else is so obsessed with it now.”

“This isn't a ‘sin’ thing for you, is it?” Ashley asks.

“What is?”

“We're always told as Christian girls, ‘don't have sex, don't think about it, don't talk about, just be perfect pure little angels forever,’ It's psychotic.”

“Ashley, I'm not putting on some act to be holier-than-thou here, I promise. I really do just find that stuff gross. I mean, I assume that for you guys, you still have those… urges, just for girls. Right?”

“That’s correct,” Ashley states.

“Um… you don't think we are dishonoring God by talking about this stuff, right?” I ask timidly.

“No, Zoe,” Ashley says exasperatedly. “Come on, it’s just a part of life. Although Saint Paul is probably rolling in his grave right now.”

“He’d be proud of me , though!” Erin says, smirking.

It feels warm in Erin’s room, so I take off my sweater and put it carefully on her dresser. I’m reminded of our sleepover, when Diana wanted to talk about boys, but suddenly started acting guilty, and then Yonca went on that rant about… uh, something about women being forced to wear certain clothing? And I realized… a lot of things, but one of those was that I never really got a chance to think about how I feel about things sexually. Wow… just thinking the word “sexually” feels a little bit dirty.

“Why do they try to make girls feel like we can't talk about any of this stuff?” I ask.

“It’s not just girls, although we definitely get it the worst,” Ashley explains. “Older people just have this idea in their heads that sex is inherently evil and that all children should be raised to suppress their feelings about it. Despite the fact that the adults also have those feelings and once upon a time they were crazy, horny teenagers too, and our parents had to do it for us to be born.”

“That’s the thing, Ashley,” Erin says. “I think they just don't want us going out and getting pregnant and having to drop out of high school. They got really crazy when they were younger, and they don’t want us to repeat those mistakes. Not like that's a concern with any of us. I bet your parents were secretly a little relieved when they found out about Zoe.”

“Well obviously you gotta be smart about it,” Ashley responds. “But that’s no reason to go so far with it. Zoe and I have a friend named Anja who’s very outspoken about her sexuality, and she's not pregnant. Because she's not a dumbass, she knows how to handle herself. So come on, you gotta admit the whole thought police thing is really excessive.”

“I don’t know, Ashley,” Erin says, shrugging. “You do you, it’s none of my business.”

I sift through all that they’ve talked about in my head. I guess they have a good point that Ashley and I have no chance of becoming pregnant. But if that’s the reason why we’re discouraged from thinking about sexual stuff, then being mad at us for being gay makes even less sense. That can’t be all there is to it. Ashley just keeps writing it off as an “old people” problem, but how did this even start?

“Oh, Ashley? Remember Kimmie from church camp?” Erin says, breaking the silence. “She just came out as ‘bisexual’.”

“Oh. That... doesn't surprise me too much, actually,” Ashley replies dryly. “How'd Tasha take it?”

“Better than I thought she would,” Erin says. Ashley grunts under her breath bitterly.

“I don't think anyone would date me whatever my sexuality was,” Erin continues, sighing wistfully. “Nobody understands my fascination for bugs.”

“Awh. I hope someday you meet someone perfect for you, Erin!” I say encouragingly.

Erin smiles at me. “Thank you, Zoe. You know, Ashley, I like her. You chose well.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ashley responds plainly. She stands up from the bed, adjusting her Blue Devils jacket. “I think I am going to get my practice in before it gets too late.”

“You sure love playing that french horn or whatever, don’t you?” Erin teases.

“I have all-area auditions after the break,” Ashley says matter-of-factly.

“Aren't you tired from flying, Ashley?” I say, disappointed that she’s already leaving.

“I'm fine. I don’t want to skip a day,” Ashley says, walking to the door. “If you'll excuse me.”

She leaves the room, and goes wherever she put her horn after getting here. I feel inexplicably lonely and sad now that she’s gone. I lay down on Erin’s bed on my front and stare out the window, where the rain is now coming down even harder than it has all day.