I Kissed a Girl Ch. 12

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"I ran into Marlow Jenkins this afternoon at the market." Mrs. Rhodes wiped her mouth daintily and folded the cloth napkin before continuing. "I do believe her son, Patrick, is in your class. Isn't that right, Elizabeth? He's such a handsome boy. Solid morals. Good grades."

The crumbs on my plate were suddenly entertaining. Her mom had brought up specific boys in my presence before. But there was something different in her tone tonight. Not to mention the fact that she'd just interrupted Lizzie and I discussing what we were going to do this weekend.

"Mother—"

"Elizabeth."

I glanced up to see Mrs. Rhodes reaching for her daughter's hand.

"Just hear me out, darling. It's never too early to start thinking about prom. And you didn't have a date last year."

Lizzie snapped her hand out of reach. "None of us girls did! We went as a group."

I didn't need to look at her to know that the sickeningly sweet smile on Mrs. Rhodes's face had dropped into a scowl.

"Yes, but this is your senior year. I think you should try talking to this boy. Marlow said she'd be happy to encourage him to ask you out."

"Mother!"

In my peripheral vision, I saw Lizzie's cheeks flush. I normally enjoyed seeing them pink up. This wasn't one of those times.

"Elizabeth, if you would just give him a chance, you would see—"

"No!" Lizzie tossed her crumpled napkin on the table and shoved her chair back. "I'm not interested in Patrick Jenkins...or any of the other boys you've tried to set me up with. Just stop meddling!"

I watched my best friend storm out of the room. I wanted to go after her but also not be rude. It was my responsibility to clear the table whenever I ate with them. After a long minute of awkward tension, I softly cleared my throat and stood up.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Rhodes. I'll clean up."

There was absolute silence from her while I stacked all of our plates and silverware. I carried them to the kitchen counter and jumped when I turned to go back to get the serving bowls. Mrs. Rhodes was standing in the doorway, pulling the door to the dining room shut behind her.

"Susannah..."

I tried not to let my distaste show. I hated my given name. And she knew it.

She refused to call me by my nickname. But she didn't even extend that privilege to her daughter. Everything was always so formal in this household. Mrs. Rhodes had always been a bit of a religious zealot as though she were still living in the deep south of the 1950s, not the other side of the Mason-Dixon Line in Indiana during the 1980s and 90s. But ever since Mr. Rhodes had died from a heart attack two years ago, Lizzie's mom had become a bitch. Not many people scared me, but she did. Her and that cliquey, gossipy gaggle of friends.

"Maybe you can answer a question for me."

"I'll try." I leaned back against the counter and shoved my hands into the front pockets of my jeans.

"Why don't you have a boyfriend?"

I was independent...just fine on my own. I shrugged. "I have no need for one."

The scowl on her face should have warned me that she hadn't read my easy-mannered response the way I'd meant it to come across. "Are you one of those dykes?"

That made the hair on the back of my neck bristle. My jaw clench. I stood up straighter, but I managed to keep my composure. Barely. What I really wanted to do was lurch at her and knock her down a few pegs. Maybe it would teach her to mind her own damn business. Though, I doubted anything ever would. Putting her nose where it shouldn't be then exacting judgment was her whole livelihood.

So, she'd heard the rumors, too. I'd tried to ignore them. Hoped that maybe they'd go away. So much for wishful thinking. It actually perplexed me. Just because I hung out with the guys in the neighborhood but didn't date any of them... Why did that automatically make me gay?

Before I could think of how to respond, Mrs. Rhodes crossed the room and stopped only inches away. It took a lot of effort not to smack that contemptuous smirk off her face.

"I've seen how you are with my Elizabeth. All these years, pretending to be her friend? No wonder she's not interested in any of the nice, handsome boys. Do you deny it, Susannah? Hmm?"

I blinked at her. "Deny what?"

"That you're trying to woo my daughter. I already know the answer to my first question," she scoffed. "Someone who dresses like you? You're a grown woman and you still wear your hair that short?"

Huh. I was gay because I continued to dress like a tomboy and have short hair at eighteen? Did she not see the hypocrisy in her claim? Lots of straight women wore jeans and T-shirts. Had short hair. Hell, her own daughter...

I recoiled, unable to stop the shock from crossing my face at realizing the vindictive woman's implication. She thought her daughter only looked the way she did because I was trying to convert her into a lesbian! Nevermind the fact that Lizzie had had the same pageboy hairstyle since her hair had grown back in after her chemo treatments half-a-dozen years ago. Or that she dared to find jeans more comfortable than A-line skirts, as did most girls our age.

But yes, it made more sense to lay the blame on the tomboyish girl next door that the church ladies' rumor mill found convenient to lambast when the victim wasn't around to defend herself. Not that anyone would have believed me anyway. Look at how I dressed and wore my hair. And maybe, according to them, I'd gotten my hooks in Lizzie way back when she'd moved in next door. Because a ten-year-old had that much influence. I must be a persistent little recruiter for the lifestyle.

In all truth, I'd only recently thought of Lizzie as more than a friend.

It had been that night just before Christmas...at her sleepover. There had been six of us girls in her bedroom, dressed in our PJs, hair pulled up while we did our nails. Well, the other girls, not me. I just watched from my backwards perch on her desk chair in my loose boxers and the same T-shirt I'd worn all day. Listening to them giggle. Partly wishing this kind of activity made me happy, too.

I'd only agreed to attend because Lizzie had begged. She'd said her 18th birthday wouldn't be the same without me. It was a milestone, and we needed to celebrate it together, just as she had done for my birthday. Except mine had been just her and I in my kitchen with a "1" and an "8" candle in a pair of Hostess cupcakes. Still, it had been meaningful to me.

So there I had been in the midst of five high school senior girls. They were all pretty. But Lizzie? Her face had just glowed, even when she wasn't smiling. The only thing out of place was that her blonde hair hadn't been long enough to be up in curlers like everyone else. What had once made her adorable as a kid had helped emphasize her slender neck and high cheekbones in her teens.

The longer I'd stared at her, the more I'd appreciated her curves in all the right places. That her pink, spaghetti-strapped tank top and matching sleep shorts had revealed her smooth arms and legs. Every time she'd laughed, something warm and unfamiliar had blossomed in my own chest. And whenever she'd glanced my way, her smile had widened...her eyes brightened.

Never before had I considered that I could be attracted to a girl. It had scared and excited me at the same time. Explained so much yet left so many more questions unanswered.

But I wasn't stupid. I'd known what the consequences would be if I acted on my feelings. Even if the other person reciprocated them.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I hadn't been able to go to Lizzie for advice.

I'd attempted to stay away from her after the holiday. But she was like a magnet...drawing me to her with that smile. That laugh. So when I was around her, I'd tried to keep what I thought was a friendly distance. It was at the end of January when I'd realized I'd fallen for her. But I couldn't let her know. Let anyone know.

And yet as I stood in Lizzie's kitchen with her self-righteous mother blocking me from any exit, I knew that someone...somehow...had seen through my façade. Maybe Mrs. Rhodes was bluffing. But could I take that chance? Now that I had more insight, I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who'd started the rumors in the first place.

"My daughter will not be swindled into this...this..." Mrs. Rhodes looked me up and down, her hand waving at the air, "...abhorrence. This sinful life you've chosen. There will be no more coming over after school. Dinners. Sleepovers. Any of it. I don't want your kind influencing my daughter. You will have no further contact with Elizabeth."

I arched an eyebrow, silently asking, "Or what?"

Mrs. Rhodes seemed to accept my challenge. With a gut-wrenching smirk, she took another step forward—making me retreat into the edge of the counter—and bared her cold, dark heart to me. "Or so help me by the Lord Jesus himself, I will send Elizabeth to that conversion camp upstate. They will pray the gay right out of my blessed child."

I literally felt the color drain from my face. They did more than pray for the kids at that camp.

A classmate named Jeremy had disappeared from school around Thanksgiving. He'd always been a fun-loving kid. A little on the effeminate side with his mannerisms and dress, but completely harmless. When he'd come back for the next semester, he'd looked like he'd been wrung out to dry. His skin had been a sickly pallor, his hair was stringy and dull, and he'd lost a lot of weight. He showed up to class every day, but he didn't speak much anymore. His spirit was gone.

Some kids had found out he'd been at that camp for a whole month. He'd not even seen his family for Christmas. His parents had gotten worried about him being gay, and their pastor had recommended they send him upstate. The pastor promised that when Jeremy came back, he would be all better. I don't know what Jeremy was anymore, but better was not it.

To think that Mrs. Rhodes would put Lizzie through that all because of a rumor about me?

Something akin to evil glared in her eyes when she narrowed them at me. "I think it's a fair deal, Susannah. Don't you?"

What the hell was I supposed to say? I couldn't let her do that to Lizzie. There was only one choice.

"Fine. But leave Lizzie alone. She has done nothing wrong."

Mrs. Rhodes nodded curtly. She stepped aside and held her arm out. "I will finish cleaning up."

I took the opportunity and skedaddled. In the dining room, I started toward the staircase.

"Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you're going?"

I glanced back to see the older woman standing with her arms crossed. "To say goodbye to Lizzie."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Susannah. You will just upset her. Go on home. I'll explain to her."

I hesitated but then obeyed. I didn't want her to renege on our deal. Hell, she could still do that even though I'd agreed to cut all ties with my best friend.

I grabbed my coat instead, catching a glimpse of her smug smile before she closed the front door between us. I trudged back home through the snow. That whole night, I lie awake in the cool darkness of my bedroom, wondering if I'd made the right decision.

I faked being sick the next morning. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing Lizzie in class—that day, or any day after—and not being able to talk to her. I prayed that her mom would explain. Had to trust that she would. But mostly, I prayed that Lizzie would understand. That she wouldn't hate me for it.

When my mom left for work, I stole her emergency funds from the coffee can at the back of the freezer behind a pile of mystery meat she'd brought home from her diner jobs. I wrote her a note, apologizing about the money...explaining that I'd known I was gay for a while and just couldn't stay in this bigoted town any longer. I hoped that someday she'd be able to forgive me. Then I packed all of my belongings in a duffle bag and ran away from home.

I hitchhiked west, hoping to get to California. I made it as far as Nebraska before a snowstorm stopped me. I found a bed in a women's shelter there. Made a friend. Got a job flipping burgers by day and studying for my GED at night. And I never looked back.

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I let out a shaky sigh, blinking away fresh tears, but my vision was still blurry. It took a moment to realize a light rain was misting my windshield. The sky to the west was cloudy and even darker on the horizon. I hurried inside before it poured.

Shucking off my jacket and toeing off my boots, I paused by the door, blinking to adjust to the change of light. Though it was gloomy out, the back hall was even darker. Much like the rest of the house these days. I ran my hand through my short, blonde hair streaked with silver—one of many reminders that I wasn't getting any younger—and finally padded across the kitchen to the bedroom that had become my haven for the past five months.

I paused again outside and took a couple of deep breaths. Buried my emotions. And then I plastered a smile on my face and slowly pushed the already ajar door open the rest of the way.

A table lamp on the far side of the hospital bed's headboard softly illuminated two women. The one in scrubs—Idgie—was checking the monitors at the head of the bed. The other was lying down with blankets tucked around her, her eyes closed.

"She's back."

I heard Idgie's whisper before my eyes met her shiny gaze while she leaned over the smaller form in the bed. A moment later, the other woman turned her scarfed head toward me, her eyes opening. Then she smiled softly.

A frail hand reached out toward me. "Susie—"

"Shh, Lizzie." I sat in the chair next to her bed and gently placed her hand back down beside her hip. I cupped my hands around hers, trying not to think of how much cooler her skin was compared to mine. "It's okay, love."

Idgie set a small bell by Lizzie's left hand then moved around the bed. When I glanced up, she gave me a sad smile and a minute shake of her head.

I gulped. Nodded the same way. My time with Lizzie was ending. It would probably be days, not weeks like the doctor had predicted.

Idgie gestured with her head that she'd be in the kitchen where she usually hung out when I was in here. Then she lightly squeezed my shoulder and left us alone.

"Is it still raining?" Lizzie asked. Her voice was raspy and soft. Much like it had been when she was sick as a kid except that she'd been able to sit up in bed and play cards with me then.

She was much too weak for that now. The several unsuccessful rounds of chemo over the past six months had knocked out every ounce of energy. She'd lost her hair at the onset and worn a wig until it became too cumbersome then switched to a baseball cap before deciding on nothing at all. She'd said she didn't need to worry about vanity now that she was homebound. Both Idgie and I had insisted on at least the scarf she now wore for warmth's sake.

"Yes. But just a drizzle."

A loud thunderclap resounded with a flash of lightning right on its tail. It wasn't a second later that I heard the telltale pounding of a downpour.

There was a raspy laugh before Lizzie said, "Liar."

"Guilty as charged," I chuckled.

While the storm surged outside, one built inside my head...my heart. How was I going to let her go? It seemed like I'd just found her again. I knew she was ready. She'd said she'd made her peace. But I hadn't. I'd thought so many times that I should come clean with her. About the past...how I felt for her. Would I regret it if I didn't? If I did? Damn it!

I studied the black scarf with orange and red flames and the logo of a popular motorcycle brand embossed on it. We'd seen it at a booth during one of the downtown festivals. Lizzie had joked that she'd always wanted to date a guy with a bike growing up just to piss off her mom. I'd bought to spite her mom's memory.

Neither of us had known it would come in handy so soon. I lightly stroked the images on the scarf, remembering how that weekend had been one of her last good ones. When she didn't move, I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep. She did that a lot when I was reading her a book or just talking. I started to stand, intending to let her rest, but Lizzie squeezed my hand.

"No, don't go, Susie."

"Shh, I'm right here, love."

"I have to talk to you."

"Shh, rest."

"No. Listen."

"Okay."

She turned a soft smile to me. "Thank you for coming."

I forced my own smile, remembering the Email I'd received telling me she had breast cancer. That her mom had had a stroke and died. That Lizzie needed me now. I was glad I'd come. It had been an uphill struggle for a couple of months before we'd found out the cancer had metastasized to her liver and bone marrow. That's when she had decided not to fight any more.

I sniffed back tears and whispered, "What are best friends for?"

She just closed her eyes, her grip loosening around my fingers.

When there was no other response after a couple of minutes and I heard her steady breathing—or as steady as it got for her—I knew she was finally asleep.

I turned off the lamp and quietly left the room. Just as I suspected, Idgie was sitting in the kitchen with her elbows propped up on the tabletop, a cup of coffee between her hands.

We both nodded at each other. I went about making my own cup and sat across from her, mirroring her stance. We drank to the sound of the rain as the thunder rolled.

Idgie cleared her throat after a few minutes. "So, earlier you were about to tell me how you got back in touch with Lizzie after running away from home. Was that out here in Northampton?"

I swallowed heavily and set my cup down, shaking my head with a soft smile. "I was in Nebraska for about three years. I got my GED and became a certified welder. Met someone. She was the first woman I was ever with. Older by about ten years. She took me under her wing. It was scary and amazing at the same time. But I took to the lifestyle like a duck to water. For the first time, I felt I could relax. I could be me. She taught me so many things."

Idgie smiled. I'd previously shared with her before that I was a lesbian, and at first, I'd only hinted at my affections for Lizzie. But the more time we'd spent around each other, the more I'd opened up. The more I'd come to find myself leaning on Idgie's shoulder, and not just figuratively.

A week after I'd moved in with Lizzie, Idgie had found me wandering listlessly around the lower level of the house. Lizzie had had a rough morning, throwing up her pain meds. I'd managed to get her cleaned up and as comfortable as possible in her room—back when she was still able to climb stairs. I guess I'd gone back down afterwards. All I remember was Idgie guiding me to the living room couch.

The emotions I'd tried to hide had just spilled out the moment she had sat beside me. She'd held me while I sobbed. And then she'd rubbed my back while I'd shared bits of my sordid past. Attempts to fit in when I stood out. Of meeting Lizzie and helping her through her first cancer. Realizing I loved her. Not caring that it was taboo. Then deciding I couldn't risk ruining her life so I would risk potentially destroying my own by leaving instead.

"But?" Idgie nudged softly, reminding me we were here now, not last fall...and not twenty-odd years ago. Her eyes shone in the dim light, her smile now hidden by the rim of her cup.

I blinked away a sudden tear and sighed. "We were together for a year when an old lover of hers came back to town. I could tell they still cared about each other whenever we were out as a group. I didn't want to stand in their way. When a couple in my apartment building asked if I wanted to go with them to Chicago, I saw the out and took it. I spent my last night at her place. Left her a note before slipping out in the morning. It seemed I was getting good at that."