As expected, V Ball practice went less than smoothly. Some of the girls made a big deal out of snubbing me, and Nicole actually hissed at me that I’m going to Hell. Some of the others were just the same as ever, but generally the mood was anti-Leah. The bright moment came at the end of the workout, when Jenny came over to talk.
“Um, Leah, is it true?” she asked, nervously looking at her feet, or the bleachers, or anywhere but straight at me.
“Is what true?” I asked, putting her on the spot. I wanted to hear her say it, and wanted to see her squirm with discomfort.
“That you and Emmy are… well, you’re out of the closet. That you’re gay,” she blurted, still avoiding my eyes.
“What if it is?” I prodded.
“I just… well, I wanted to say that I don’t care what Abbie or some of the others say. You’re still my teammate, and you’re still just as good a person as ever.” This all came out in a rush, and Jenny looked relieved to get it out.
Letting her off the hook, I said “Thanks, Jen. Yeah, it’s true. I guess I am ‘out of the closet’,” I said, rolling my eyes at the phrase. “Emmy and I are officially and publicly a couple now. I still don’t think of myself as gay, though.”
“Um, what do you mean?” she asked, unsure.
“Well, it’s not like I’m attracted to girls in general. In fact, I still scope out hot guys- girls just don’t do it for me. It’s just that somehow I wound up in love with somebody who happens to be a girl, that’s all. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
“Really?” Jenny wondered. “So, you’re not like some kind of dyke who wishes she were a guy? ‘Cause that’s what they’re saying.”
“No, no, I’m not,” I replied wearily. “Look, until Emmy came along, I’d never looked at a girl twice. Any girl. I mean, I had a boyfriend last year, but nobody seems to remember that. No, whatever it is ‘they’ say, it’s all bullshit.”
Jenny seemed relieved. “Well, I gotta go. See you tomorrow” she said, and bolted for the locker room. Turning to grab my stuff, I saw Coach Meyers standing by the door to the gym, looking at me. She caught my eye and waved me over.
“Farmer,” she said. “I want to talk to you. In my office.” I followed her as she led the way out of the gym. Honestly, I had two competing thoughts running through my mind. On the one hand, she could be about to boot me from the team. This wouldn’t be that big a deal because the season was over anyway, but I needed the practice if I was going to be ready for college workouts. On the other hand, it could be that I’ll find out Coach was gay, too, and had been hiding it all these years.
With these thoughts hammering me from both sides, I closed the office door behind me and sat down as Coach took her seat behind her desk.
“There are a lot of stories swirling around you today, Farmer,” she began.
“Stories?” I asked, unsure where this was leading.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she said, in a ‘don’t bullshit me’ sort of way. “I watched you at practice. Even though it was obvious that some of the girls were going out of their way to make life hard for you, you didn’t respond in kind. You worked at the drills, and set just as often to the girls that now seem to hate you as to the others.”
“I don’t see…” I objected, but she continued.
“Things are going to be tough for you now. Now that everyone knows you’re gay-” I started to object, but she continued. “Now that everyone thinks you’re gay, whether it’s true or not, people will react differently to you. The simple fact that you didn’t let it affect your practice tells me, though, that you have the fortitude to rise above, and that’s something.”
“I was half afraid you were going to kick me off the team,” I confessed.
“Half afraid? What was the other half?” she asked, with a hint of amusement in her eyes.
“Well,” I began nervously. “I thought maybe you were going to tell me you were gay.”
Laughing, Coach said “Nah, not me. I’ve been married to a great man for twenty-two years now. We have two wonderful sons, and I’m very proud of both of ‘em. No, I’m not your stereotypical lesbian gym coach, spending too much time in the locker room.”
“So,” I began, unsure how to phrase it. “If you’re not gay, why are you so understanding?” I really hoped she wouldn’t take offense at this, and thankfully she didn’t.
“I was a star volleyball player all through high school and college. I competed on the pro beach circuit for a few years, too. I’ve had teammates who were gay, and you know what? On the court it didn’t matter one bit to them, or to me. Off the court, I could see that sometimes they were treated differently and that always struck me as wrong. The way I look at it, any love at all is hard enough to come by.”
“So-” I started to say, but Coach interrupted.
“Lascaux is a very remarkable girl. The way she saw that we could win against Temecula was amazing to me. She was right, too. Honestly, if I’d seen what she’d figured out, we would have been prepared and we would have won that match hands down. We’d have gone on to the Championships for sure. If she makes you happy, if you two are really in love, do whatever you have to do to keep that going. Don’t let anyone outside of the two of you decide how things should be for you. I can’t tell you it’ll be easy, but I think you might have the strength to make it work.”
“Uh, thanks. Yeah, Emmy does make me happy. It may seem ridiculous, but I can see it working out for us. I can see us being together for a long time.”
“Good. Relationships are hard work, don’t forget it. You both will have to work hard, and this is coming from someone who’s been married three times longer than the statistical average,” she said, smiling. “You two are both graduating this June, right? How are you going to deal with the separation when you two go to college?”
“We’re hoping to both go to Stanford,” I said.
“Stanford? Have you talked to Joe Burke?”
“We’ve emailed back and forth a couple of times. He wants me to come up and work out with the team, I guess as sort of a tryout.”
“Well, you’d best get on it, then. Don’t wait. In fact, email him tonight and tell him that your schedule is open, and you’d like to come up to Palo Alto. Seriously. Don’t wait.”
I was thinking about what Coach had said as I walked out to the parking lot. Emmy and Tom Carter were waiting (in the shade, of course) for me.
“Sorry I’m late,” I apologized. “Coach wanted to talk to me about Stanford.” It wasn’t really a lie, but I sure wasn’t going to tell Tom all about the real conversation.
“We are going for a drive, the three of us,” announced Emmy.
Puzzled, I climbed into the driver’s seat and Tom took shotgun. Emmy sat in the back, behind me. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Anywhere. It does not matter,” Emmy replied. “Somewhere we can talk.”
Tom looked nervous but didn’t offer any suggestions, so I drove north past my place to the park by the river, where I pulled the car into the shade of a big sycamore tree.
“O.K., what’s the deal?” I asked. “Tom and I already talked at lunch. Allie’s being a bitch, I got that. So why are we here?”
Emmy reached over and poked Tom in the ribs, goading him to talk. He swallowed, looked around, fidgeted, and generally did everything he could to avoid starting. It was making me nervous, seeing him so tense. Once it became obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to say whatever it was, Emmy did it for him.
“Tom is homosexual,” she explained to me. Suddenly Tom’s anger at his family at lunch made sense. In fact, suddenly a lot of things about Tom made sense, now that I thought about it.
Tom finally spoke up. “It’s true. I’ve known for a while. Maybe since I was twelve? That’s actually why we moved down here- my parents didn’t like the ‘unhealthy influence’ my friends were having on me. They thought if they could get me away from my Portland friends, that I wouldn’t act so...”
“Um…” was all I could say to this revelation. Emmy didn’t have any comment at all. All she did is give his shoulder a supportive squeeze.
“You remember the Halloween party, the one where Emmy dressed up like a devil?” As if I could forget, I thought, but Tom continued. “Mindy Stock’s cousin Robert? You met him. He was dressed like Fred Flintstone. He goes to my old school back in Portland. He knew a lot of my old friends. We got to talking, and next thing I knew, we were in my car, making out.”
“Holy crap!” I said in surprise.
“It was my first time to actually be with a guy. Robert knew what to do, though. We just took it slow, and when it got too much he stopped.”
“Tom, this might be TMI,” I said, but he didn’t even hear me. He was thinking about what had happened and wasn’t really in Emmy’s Mini with us at all.
“Robert was so gentle,” Tom continued. “It was so good, Leah. It was everything I’d hoped it could be. You don’t know how hard it was to drop him off at Mindy’s place, knowing I’d probably never be able to see him again. How hard it was to go home, knowing my folks would kill me if they ever found out their son had just had done it with another guy.” The pain in his voice and the look of hurt on his face were intense. I thought that I had it rough with Mom, but it was nothing like this.
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“But I did go home. I went home, and now I’ve spent the last few months counting down the days until I could get the fuck out of this fucked up little town. Every time Dad went on a rant about how gays were ruining America and pushing their agenda on the rest of us, I’d just smile and nod my head, and think about Robert pushing his gay agenda tongue in my mouth. I fucking swear, Leah, I’m going back to Portland the day I turn eighteen. That’ll be my birthday present to myself- to never see my family again.” Faced with such bitterness, I realized that although I’d seen Allie and Tom every school day for the last two years, I really didn’t know them at all.
“Emmy knew,” Tom said, suddenly turning to face me. “Somehow, she did. My own twin sister doesn’t have a clue, but Emmy knew.”
“You did?” I asked Emmy, glancing at her in the back seat. “Since when?”
“The Halloween party. I thought that maybe he was gay before then, but I was certain after that.”
“You tried to set me up at your pool party, didn’t you?” he asked, turning to Emmy. “You tried to hook me up with Martin, right? Isn’t that what that was about?”
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“Well, he’s an all right guy, but he’s not my type. He’s not out, either. When we talked, it felt like we were both trying to say something but not say it, you know? I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure he was gay, and I guess he wasn’t sure I was, either, so neither of us were willing to make that next step- just in case we were wrong. Besides, there’s no way I could have a relationship until I can get out of my house. Somebody would figure it out, like with you two. You think it’s bad for you, at least it’s kinda cool to be a lesbian these days. Dudes all think lesbians are hot, right? But a gay guy? I’d get the shit beaten out of me daily if word got out.”
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Nothing, for now. I need to finish school first. Our birthday is July third, so on the fourth I’m on the freeway north.”
“What about Allie?” I asked, amazed that he could turn his back so completely on his twin sister.
“Fuck Allie,” he said, that bitterness back in his voice. “Let me tell you a story about Allie. When we were kids, maybe starting at seven or so? Her best friend was this girl named Laura. Laura lived just a few houses down from us, and the two would play all the time. I was jealous because I didn’t have a friend like that, but they didn’t invite me. The two had sleepovers all the time. It seemed as if they were the twins, not me. Anyway, it was like that for a couple of years, and then all of a sudden, they weren’t speaking, not hanging out, ignoring each other at school. Overnight, they went from best friends to complete enemies. Allie never told me what they’d fought about, and as far as I know nobody else knew, either.”
Tom paused, thinking back. I didn’t say anything, wanting him to continue his story. “When I asked, Allie would just tell me that they weren’t friends anymore, and she could never be friends with someone like that. Our parents tried to talk to Laura’s parents about it, but they said Laura’s parents didn’t want Allie over anymore, and that was that.”
Waiting for Tom to say more, I thought about what he’d said. Eventually it became clear he was done, but I still didn’t understand why he’d told us the whole thing.
“So, what? I mean, what does all this have to do with anything?” I asked, wanting to know the rest.
“We lived four houses down from Laura and her family for another six years. Laura went to the same schools we did all the way through into high school, until we moved down here. All that time? Allie never once said even one word to Laura. Not one word.”
“So you think that if she finds out that you are homosexual, she will do just the same to you?” asked Emmy, voicing my thoughts exactly.
“I know she will. She’s an evil bitch in some ways, Leah. The worst thing? She gets it from Mom. She’s like a little version of our dear, sweet mother. Hell hath no fury like my mom.”
“So why are you telling us all this now?” I asked.
“Well, I thought you should know why Allie is being such a bitch. And why I’m going be receiving a world of shit for supporting you. But I’m gonna do it anyway. At least now the worst that can happen is my parents get mad at me for not agreeing with their homophobe ways. It’ll be a lot worse when I send them pictures of me with my hand down Robert’s pants. Which I am gonna do, as soon as I get to Portland.”
“Wow,” was all I could say.
“I hope you find happiness in Portland,” Emmy said, as she reached around the car seat and put her hands on my tummy, reminding me that our problems were nothing near as bad.
“Well, it’ll be better than here, that’s for damned sure,” Tom said, the last of his bitterness draining away.
“Tom, what time do you have to be home?” asked Emmy.
“No time in particular, why?”
“What do you say we all go back to my house and have that movie party you wanted? We could watch anything you want,” Emmy said, trying to cajole him into a better mood.
“Anything?” he asked, with a gleam in his eye.
“No, not anything. I do not like horror movies. Anything else, though.”
“It’s a deal. I just need to call my folks and tell them I’ll be home late.” His mood much brighter, we drove back into town so he could get cell reception and make his call. I used the opportunity to leave a note for Mom, and we went out to Emmy’s place.
Brokeback Mountain didn’t really float my boat, but I do have to admit that the acting was good. Tom really enjoyed it, though, and as crummy as I was feeling about the way the day went it was nothing compared to what Tom was going through. He said he was going to support us any way he could, but it seemed that he needed our support just as much, if not more.
When we drove him home I saw Allie peek out the window and look at us giving Tom our goodbye hugs (and of course, Emmy gave him one of her little cheek kisses, too). Thinking about Allie as I pulled out of their driveway, I hoped Tom would be all right.
The rest of the week was really, well, ‘interesting’ would be a nice way of putting it. Tom continued to sit with us at lunch, and Courtney and Allie continued to go out of their way to avoid us. Well, Courtney did, anyway. Allie mostly avoided Emmy and me, but when she did get close enough to say anything it was always something nasty.
Emmy didn’t seem to care at all, but it bothered me. I mean, this was my best friend since forever and my second best friend for the last couple of years completely blowing me off and being actively hostile, respectively.
Surprisingly enough, after a few days of sitting at a mostly empty table at lunch, a few others started sitting with us. First it was the two cheerleaders, Mindy and Stephanie. The next day, Andy and Blake joined us. The two football players only ate with us for a few days just to make a point then went back to their football jock table, but I was grateful anyhow. It was a good sign of support. Mindy and Stephanie, though, showed no signs of going back to their old seating habits.
“I’m freaking tired of Candace being, like, such a bitch anyhow,” Stephanie explained. “I mean, god, we’re all going to graduate in five months anyhow, so why put up with her bitchy attitude if I don’t have to anymore?”
I appreciated the show of solidarity from two of the most popular girls in school, but honestly, I didn’t understand when they’d decided they were our friends. I mean, I liked them well enough once I got to know them, but it’s not like I’d ever really even talked to them much at all over the years we’d been going to the same schools. Still, it was good to have friends, even unexpected self-invited airhead friends.
School, however, wasn’t getting any better. I was still getting tons of grief from Nicole and Abbie on the team, who had in fact asked the Coach to kick me off. When she’d told them that I was the best player and they could learn a lot from me (at least, that’s what I’d heard) they both threatened to quit, and Coach told them that they could walk. They didn’t, of course. I could have made life easier for everybody and bailed on the team- after all, the season was over, and I wasn’t returning next year, so why not? But I needed the workouts to keep sharp. If I wanted to impress when I started working out with the Stanford girls I had to work harder than ever. So I just sucked it up and ignored Abbie and Nicole’s ‘accidental’ shoves and the occasional ball to the back of my head, telling myself that in a few months I’d never have to see either of those two bitches again.
Outside of practice, mostly it was the same as ever before. Most kids at school just didn’t seem to care one way or another, for which I was immensely grateful. A few girls told me privately that I was very brave for being so open about my sexual preference, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I would have kept it quiet if I could have. I’m pretty sure a couple of them were also gay, but weren’t ‘out’ yet, so if I could give them hope, well, I guess that’s a good thing. Some of the boys leered and made suggestive gestures and rude cracks about eating at the Y and being on a vagitarian diet, but they were easy to ignore. All in all, it wasn’t as much grief as I’d been afraid of, and nothing I couldn’t ignore for the time being.
Emmy and I opted for the ‘out and proud’ route. We held hands, hugged, and even snuck kisses while at school. In fact, we even got dragged to the vice-principal’s office and reprimanded for excessive public displays of affection, but Mrs. Landis bent over backward to insist that we weren’t being singled out because we were two girls but in fact there had been complaints. Yeah, I have no doubt there were, and I could probably guess who had done the complaining, I thought.
We really didn’t let the scolding change our behavior much at all. If boys could walk around campus with their hands on their girlfriends’ butts, if girls could sit on their boyfriends’ laps, well, so could we. I wasn’t ashamed of the way I felt for the most beautiful, amazing, talented, smartest and sweetest girl in the world, and she wasn’t ashamed of being seen to be in love with me, so all the haters could go take a flying leap. I can’t say I would have chosen for us to be the school’s most visible gay couple, but Emmy and I did what we could to show that we weren’t going to hide it, either.
Reading the newspaper in Home Room one morning, something grabbed my attention. It was Monday’s “Caught This Weekend” music/theatre review, and it was about Emmy’s solo show at the coffee house the previous Saturday night. I couldn’t believe it- it was right there in black and white newsprint. “Exotic Beauty Wows Crowd” was the headline.
“Look at this!” I said to Emmy, handing her the paper. Brent was crowding close, trying to read over her shoulder. This got the attention of Miss Takei, who demanded to know what was so interesting.
“If it is that fascinating, Mr. Platner, I’m sure the rest of the class would enjoy it, too. Would you please come to the front and read the article aloud?” she said. Brent, looking a bit sheepish, did as he was told.
“Tipped off that I might see something special,” he read, “I stopped by Edward’s, the coffee shop known for its support of local artists and musicians. On the bill for the evening was a young woman named Emmy Lascaux. A native of Paris, France, Emmy is a startlingly exotic-looking young lady of unusual beauty.” As he read that, Brent looked up at Emmy, sitting in the front of the class.
“You hear that?” he asked. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed!” he teased, making Emmy smile shyly.
Brent returned to reading the review. “Uh, skipping a bit about the coffee shop… O.K.” he said, as he got to the important stuff. “Emmy’s hour and a half set consisted almost entirely of her unusual and unexpected renditions of songs from well-known and obscure artists ranging from Springsteen and Dylan to Radiohead and The Offspring. Emmy’s remarkable vocal abilities were highlighted by her truly chilling treatment of the Florence and the Machine song ‘Girl With One Eye’ which left the packed coffee house absolutely stunned.” Brent looked at Emmy, a quizzical look on his face. “Chilling?” he asked.
“It was fun,” she responded, not offering up any more than that. I was glad she didn’t mention how she pulled a knife at the finale of the song, making me almost wet myself.
Apparently satisfied by that answer, Brent returned to reading the review. “Do yourself a favor and catch one of Emmy Lascaux’s upcoming shows at Edward’s Coffee Shop before she hits the big time, which will probably be soon. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” Putting the newspaper down, Brent said “Jeeze, Emmy. He really liked it. That was a fantastic review. It’s reviews like that that lead to recording contracts, and recording contracts lead to fame and riches.” Thinking about what he’d just said, Brent added “Well, I guess you’ve already got the ‘riches’ part covered…”
“Thank you, Mr. Platner. Would you please take your seat?” said Miss Takei, and Brent sat back down next to Emmy. Looking around the class, it seemed as if most of the kids were unimpressed by what he’d just read.
“What Springsteen song did you do?” asked Brent in a low voice.
“Dancing In The Dark,” Emmy replied.
“Really? Are you serious?”
“Of course. It is a great song,” Emmy responded, a bit defensively.
“If you say so. Hey, we got a gig coming up a week from this Friday. Want to play with us? It’s a paying job, and I’m sure the guys would be cool with cutting you a share.”
“When could we practice?” asked Emmy, taken with the idea.
“Miss Lascaux, Mr. Platner. This is class time, not social hour,” Miss Takei said in a stern voice, and both of them shut up. I’ve never heard Miss Takei raise her voice- as far as I know, she’s never needed to. Simply by the tone of her voice she could stop riots.