Come Out, Come Out...

"I really can't stay..."

The corners of Bridgette's lips curled up, welling her eyes in affection as she saw what the pixie girl was up to. She lacked the presence of mind to pick up the other part of the song right away, but obtained it after Lauren provocatively flipped her eyebrows at her.

"I've got to go 'way..." Lauren mouthed.

Bridgette's heart began to swoon. "But baby, it's cold outside..." she coyly mouthed back, starting to blush again.

Bridgette couldn't remember all the words, and she felt a bit funny lip-syncing the male part, but couldn't deny she was having fun. Lauren was beautiful, no doubt about that, and Bridgette secretly surmised she liked her. Bridgette hadn't met anyone like her before. She supposed she imagined lesbian girls in general to be more...she didn't know, masculine. Or "butchy"...another term she'd heard bandied about, whatever exactly that meant. But that was silly; everyone was different. She also knew tomboys who were straighter than a road in North Dakota. And were she the suspicious type, she'd have almost thought Em ran off to the ladies' room to leave them alone on purpose, so Lauren could ask her to dance. But that was a silly thought, she processed with a chuckle. Wasn't it?

Lauren batted her eyes at her.

...Wasn't it?

"Bridgette," Lauren paused her lip-syncing to lean close and whisper in her ear. "...I think I like you."

...

...Wasn't it?

Bridgette's silly lopsided smile descended as her mouth slipped ajar. She felt them continue dancing, though it seemed all these office-mates of Emily's abruptly swirled out of existence. Try as she might not to fall for Lauren, it was becoming a losing battle. She'd certainly found out in the past month that Lauren was gay, but never quite connected their encounter to the fact she'd voted against the girl's right to marry. In fact, she'd all but forgotten the vote. Still, Em had seemed pretty mad about it. And even so, Bridgette didn't pick up on a correlation between these elements. Of course, picking up on anything this lofty would be pretty difficult right about now.

"You're so pretty, Bridgette," Lauren said, levitating her right hand off Bridgette's shoulder to caress her pink cheek.

Bridgette had to think about this a little. She knew it wasn't she who chose love but vice versa, yet she never imagined being enamored of another girl. Her whole life had been spent in the active belief and practice of heterosexuality. She was raised Christian, taken to mass every Sunday, and even to Sunday school just after. This infatuation went against everything taught and drilled into her head as a child. And indeed, produced a hell of a chance that her mother might in fact actually, literally disown her.

So why did it feel so gosh-damned right??!

Em had a point. She was an adult now. And while estrangement from her mother—and logically also her father—would break her heart, she couldn't help how she thought she felt about Lauren. And even if Charlotte did boot her out, Em had offered her pad for Bridgette to crash, presumably as long as she wished. She and Emily could possibly be roomies. Shacking up with her bestie seemed like tons of fun in theory, but she mustn't jump to the conclusion. And coming up with a bit of coin for her share of food and utilities wasn't ideal, unemployed while instead spending big money for med school. This tangent suddenly threw a big scare into Bridgette. Her parents were footing the college bill. If they cut her off, she'd have to find some other way to afford her schooling. She'd have to get a full-time, high-paying job. And then when would she sleep??

"...Bridgette?"

She looked back up into Lauren's eyes.

"...Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

"O—...okay?...Am I okay?"

"Yeah. You suddenly look worried. Like you've got something weighing on your mind."

"Well...sort of. But it's...it's kind of a long story. I'll...uh...maybe I'll tell you later."

"Oh. Okay. Well...while we're waiting—"

Lauren leaned in again, and this time kissed Bridgette's soft button nose. Bridgette gasped, giggled and felt her heart flutter. She was relieved Lauren still wasn't laying passionate kisses on her lips. She wasn't sure if she could handle that just yet. Or if Emily's co-workers all around them could. Come to think of it, was anyone around them reacting in a specific way to their flirty touchy dancing?

Oh, it wasn't important...as long as there was no one here who knew her...

...Right, Em?

"Lauren?"

"Yes, Bridgette?"

"Forgive me for imposing, but...do you think I could maybe please come hang out with you...at your place...sometime?"

Lauren thought a moment and shrugged.

"...Well, sure. I'd like that. Then perhaps your place next time."

She had to expect that. This scenario made Bridgette apprehensive, but she forced up a half-smile and nodded uneasily.

Yyyyyyeah...Mom?...Dad?...This is my, um...friend...Lauren. My...friend, that I...happen to...dance and make out with sometimes.

"Lauren, I...have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

Bridgette leaned up close, gulped, cleared her throat...

And kissed Lauren back, right on the nose.

"...Merry Christmas, darling."

*****

Charlotte's Lebb

Saturday, January 12th, 2013, 1:47 p.m.

Bridgette didn't think it perfect timing to spring her news on her folks in the midst of the holidays, or the turn of the new year. But at the same time, she couldn't bear to wait too long either. So passed a few more exhilarating Fridays in the company of the lovely Lauren Nicole Marsiglia, during which Bridgette's budding devotion only deepened. The girl had a natural charm. Dining out, for example, involved casually tossing the heads-up over to Bridgette, "It's cool, I've got it; you can get the next one." Bridgette took delight in the numerous little touches and flirtations Lauren bestowed upon her. She really was falling in undeniable love. So while Bridgette knew this was going to be one of the most difficult conversations she would ever have, she had to do it. She had to tell her mother.

She decided to stop at the store and get a box of her Mom's favorite candy. Not to think of this as a bribe, but it wouldn't be easy for either of them, and she couldn't see this gesture possibly doing any harm. It crossed her mind to bring alcohol, but getting her mother a little tipsy or just downright blind to tell her the news seemed to defeat the purpose. Even if things went over okay with Charlotte sloshed, she'd eventually still find out sober. And then Bridgette was back to her original dilemma.

She parked the car, got out, made sure she had the candy, and timidly shuffled up the driveway. She thought she was going to start sweating even though her folks lived in the coldest corner of Minneapolis and Juniper, and it was barely 20°, and flurrying outside. Bridgette was bundled head to toes, to the nines, and suddenly felt as if she didn't need all this padding on.

Finally, she reached the front door, retrieved her key, and let herself inside. "Mom? Dad?"

"Hi, sweetheart!" Charlotte smiled from the living room. "I'm right in here. C'mon in.

"Oh, and I see you've come bearing gifts!"

"Well, gift," Bridgette chuckled. "I, eh...I know how much you love your Whitman's."

"You know well," her Mom appended. "Well, come on, have a seat!"

"...'Kay," replied a nervous Bridgette, removing articles of now superfluous clothing. "So...where's Dad? Is he here?"

"Oh, no, dear, he went to the grocery store. Just a little while ago, actually."

"Oh." Rats. Bridgette had thought her Dad might lend her a little support, and even if not, could serve as a buffer between them.

"Well...maybe I'll just hang out for a little bit, if that's okay...can we watch some TV?"

"Oh? You wanna watch TV with your ol' Ma? How interesting; we don't usually have the same tastes in entertainment."

Well, that was true. Bridgette hadn't really thought of that, but then, she had other things on her mind. So the Carter women channel surfed for a spell before settling on a program they could both enjoy, in this case the Antiques Roadshow. Bridgette, however, was having a bit of trouble enjoying the show or paying attention.

"Wanna play one of our TV drinking games?" asked Charlotte. "I've got your favorite: cherry Kool-Aid."

"...Maybe a little later, Mom..." Bridgette waited for a commercial break, got up, and looked out the window for her Dad Nick's car.

"What's the matter, hon?"

"Wh—huh?"

"Bridgette, you're clearly preoccupied about something. What is it?"

Her rightly preoccupied daughter turned back from the window and blew out a sigh.

"Okay...you wanna pause the TV, please, Mommy?"

"'Mommy'?" Charlotte picked up the remote to honor her request. "I can't remember the last time you called me 'Mommy.'"

Bridgette joined her on the couch.

"Well, the fact is...Mom..." she began, taking her mother's hands, "...I have something to tell you...something you're...um...

"Something you're really not gonna like."

"Oh, dear. Are you in trouble, Bridgette?"

"Well...not really. At least...I don't see it that way. But..." Bridgette gulped, releasing one of Charlotte's hands to wipe her brow.

"Oh my gosh, this is harder than I thought. Uh...you see, Mom, there's something you and I don't quite see eye to eye on. But that alone is gonna be news to you, and...and I'm afraid that's not even what I have to say."

"Well, goodness, Bridgette...for heaven's sake, tell me. Please."

Bridgette swallowed again.

"Okay..." she murmured, looking 90° from her mother. She was finding it a bit hard to look her in the eye right now.

"Mommy...I think I'm...in...love..."

Charlotte gasped. "Well, honey, that's wonderful! Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!"

"...With a girl."

Bridgette immediately turned 135° away, and shut her eyes. The sudden, cold silence she knew was coming settled over.

"...What?"

More silence. But now it was Bridgette's turn to speak again. Anyone could see this "What?" wasn't asking for repetition or clarification. It was accusatory, curt, and undoubtably hostile. Just as Bridgette knew it would be. She began rapidly spilling her guts.

"Her-her name's Lauren, Mom. I-I dunno for sure if I'm in love, but I'm definitely having really strong feelings for her. She—"

"Bridgette...Yvonne...Carter..."

Ooooh. Middle name. That was never good.

"...If you think that's funny, or facetious in any way, you're sorely mistaken."

Her daughter shook her head. "I'm not laughing, mother."

"Bridgette...look at me. In the eyes. Right now."

Oh, this was going to be unpleasant, very much so. Bridgette obliged, to a glare in Charlotte's hard teal eyes.

"Now, I want you to tell me you were just making an attempt at a joke two moments ago."

This was getting quite ugly, quite fast. But Bridgette had never been a good liar to begin with, and lying was just about the last thing she would, should or could do right now.

"It's true, Mom."

Charlotte slowly, ominously shook her own head.

"No, it is not, Bridgette."

"Mommy...plea—"

"Young lady, not only is that a fact, it's an order. This is not the way I brought you up, and it is not the way I'll tolerate you today. Now, you're still my daughter, and I still love you. And so that's why I am going to assume that you are merely confused, and will come in time to realize your true nature."

Bridgette dropped her dampening eyes.

"I'm sorry, mother. But I already have. And...and I voted against gay marriage, but I didn't want to. I only did it to appease you, because I didn't wanna make you react like this. But if I could go back and do it again, I'd vote for it, without a second thought. I'm grown up now. I'm going to make my own decisions. And I don't agree with your beliefs, Mom. I hope they do legalize gay marriage."

Charlotte was quickly losing patience. "You will not forget the rules of this house, young lady. And if you want to stay in it, you'll abide by them. Listen to me, Bridgette, and listen good: homosexuality is not only a sin. It's an abomination. And I will not stand for it poisoning my own flesh and blood."

Running low on patience herself, Bridgette was becoming very hurt by her mother's words. She stood from the couch. "Mother...

"You're wrong. I'm sorry, I really am, I am so very sorry, but you're wrong. Just so completely dead wrong."

Charlotte began to stand as well. "Now let me tell you something, Bridg—"

"NO, no, no, let me tell you something, Mom," Bridgette pointed. Her voice was rising, and she knew she was getting out of line, but it wouldn't be helped. "I may be bisexual, or I may be a flat-out lesbian; I don't know for sure yet. But what I do know is I'm not in love with a boy. I told you this was gonna be hard, and you wouldn't like it at all. But I'm not confused about who I am, mother. I might be confused about some things, but this...this couldn't be clearer to me. I know the time goes fast, Mom, I know you can't always keep up. But I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm 23 years old. I know what I want. I know who I am. And no one, mother, not even you, can change that. I may still be your daughter, but if you won't accept me this way...then you don't love me, and you've never loved me at all."

Another silence. Both women stood, staring each other in the consternated eyes, as outside, a car pulled up in the driveway.

"Bridgette..." Charlotte's voice cracked, as her eyes welled. Bridgette stood motionless, expressionless, hoping so very much that she had awoken something in her mother, that she'd ignited a small spark of enlightenment in her. But she hadn't. Her Mom pointed in the direction of the door.

"...Please leave my house."

Bridgette felt her heart break. "Oh, mother..."

Charlotte turned her back on her. "Just go. Go with Emily. I know she's offered to let you stay with her. I'm sorry too, Bridgette...I just cannot have you in my house now."

She shut her eyes tight to maintain stone-hard authority. But another moment later, she heard her daughter weeping behind her.

"Fine...fine. As you wish. Goodbye...Charlotte."

The key turned in the door before Nick realized it was unlocked. He pushed it open, carrying a first bag of groceries.

"Oh! Well, ladies, hope you're hungry!" he announced.

Understandably, he was less than prepared for what happened next. His face morphed to surprise as a tearful Bridgette turned in his direction, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

"Bye, Dad...I love you...and it's been nice knowing you."

"...What?"

Logically, her father's "What?" positively begged for clarification. His obliviousness to the whole situation only made Bridgette sob harder. He looked up to see his wife standing in the living room, her back turned, a single hand covering her face.

"I'm sorry I can't stay and explain," their young lady sobbed. She abruptly turned pointedly in Charlotte's direction, and declared—

"I have to go away now...for good."

Without another word, she collected her extra winter clothes, didn't even put them back on, and fled the house.

*****

Girls' Night Uncloseted

Friday, January 18th, 2013, 4:32 p.m.

Bridgette curled up under the blanket on the sofa with the remote as once more, for the fifth time this week, she heard the door unclick.

"Oh!" Em exhaled, sweeping in. "What...a day. Thank God it's the weekend!"

Bridgette only listlessly continued channel flipping.

"Oh, Bridge," Emily groaned, floating almost low enough to match her friend's solemnity. "Not again...not today too..."

No response.

"Sweetie, for hell's sake," pleaded Em, "Would you please get up?? All you've done for the past week's sit there sulking with the TV and playing Candy Crush on my laptop! No one goes through seven hundred levels in six days!"

Bridgette pushed another melancholy breath through her nose and surfed another channel wave. She knew what Em said was true, but failed to care. She remained legitimately heartbroken. Her Mom was all she could think about. She'd braved the news-breaking, and her worst fear was confirmed: her mother had in fact all but disowned her. And the most devastating aspect of all: as much as she wanted to say she couldn't believe it...she could. Her mother was one hardcore Christian, and her pious devoutness was impossible to overestimate. Bridgette felt forlorn, abandoned, and virtually exiled from her own home...but one thing she was not was surprised.

When Bridgette appeared at Em's door covered in tears, Em didn't need to ask a single question. All she needed to do was hold out her arms and welcome Bridgette on in. She prided herself on being a great friend, and followed through. She'd offered the cozy shelter of her home, and wasn't about to weasel out. Bridgette needed her right now, as much as she ever needed anyone. So they sat together on the sofa to watch TV, sharing the blanket. And indeed, the first three days, Em was all too willing and able to hold and console her.

The latter three were a bit of a different story. Bridgette slept on the sofa, barely moving except when nature called. Monday morning, Emily readied herself for work, telling her guest to just keep making herself at home. Nine hours later, she returned to find a stationary Bridgette still right there, staring at the tube. Again, Em felt and understood her friend's pain, and so she went on looking after her. But as the entire week proceeded to pass with zero progress on Bridgette's part, Emily started to feel more like her waitress than her hostess. As her guest, she couldn't expect Bridgette to help her with things like household chores, and she certainly couldn't expect her to contribute to the bills with no income. But she was getting slightly tired of having a veritable zombie crashed on her couch.

"A'right, well, y'know what?" she told her. "You're not just sitting here again tonight. Like it or not, it is Friday, and we are going out. Sammy and Ian are having a boys' night, so we're gonna have a girls' one. Lauren wants to take us to this club she knows. Now get up and get dressed, young lady; I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Great," Bridgette muttered sarcastically. "Now I've got two mothers who're unhappy with me."

So for the first time in a full week, Em dragged Bridgette to her feet, gussied her up good and pretty, called a cab, and off they went to meet Lauren at the Opal Room. From the bit Emily knew thus far about Lauren, it well suited her tastes. It was colorful, chromatic and vivid, just as Lauren had shown herself to be. As a matter of fact, Bridgette and Em had yet to see just how colorful, until Lauren spotted them with delight and pulled them out to the main floor. Every color Crayola had ever produced was represented in the spasming lights, and many many more, somehow all simultaneously. It was downright trippy.

"IS...LAUREN, IS THIS A GAY BAR??" Emily shouted over the music.

"WELL, SORT OF, BUT THEY LIKE TO ENTERTAIN THE HETS HERE TOO," Lauren replied. "LIKE, IF THERE'S A COUPLE DUDES HANGING OUT, BUT THEY'RE JUST BUDDIES, THE GIRLS LIKE TO KINDA TEASE 'EM BY DANCING TOGETHER. JUST 'CAUSE, Y'KNOW, GUYS LIKE THAT."

"AH," Em nodded. "WELL...COULD YOU POINT ME TO ONE OF THEM? I MEAN, NO OFFENSE OR ANYTHING, BUT A COUPLE CHICKS TOGETHER DOESN'T DO MUCH FOR ME," she chuckled.