Chapter 16 #2
She began to cry again, burying her head into her arms, her whole body shaking against the counter.
I got off my stool and hugged her from behind, squeezing tight against the racking sobs, drying my own hot tears on her sweatshirt.
When Aubrey finally settled, I let go of her to find that both Hannah and Baker had reached across the counter to rest a hand on her arm.
“I’m sorry,” Aubrey said thickly.
“Please don’t apologize,” Baker said softly, handing her the tissues. “We’ve been where you are. We know how much it hurts.” She reached for Hannah’s hand. “Coming out was excruciating for us.”
“It was like being in a choke hold,” Hannah agreed. “On fire. With lice.”
I looked between them. “What happened?”
Wordlessly, they searched each other’s expressions like they were deciding who would answer first. Finally, Baker began to speak, her voice thin but practiced as she told us the rough edges of their story: the pining, the fighting, the crying.
I watched everything settle over her face, how she still seemed completely in control even as pain was leaking through her facade.
“It was terrifying,” Hannah went on. She was watching Baker with such a tender look that I felt like we were intruding.
“Like being outside of my skin. Every single person I met was another chance to be accepted, or to be shunned. And every time I came out to someone new, it was like holding my breath and jumping into the deep end.”
“The breathing,” Baker said, pointing like she could see the very word shimmering on the air between them. “That was a whole thing. I literally started breathing differently after I came out.”
“Oh, for sure,” Hannah agreed. “Even after we finally got together, it wasn’t quite …
happiness that I felt, even though I was euphoric inside.
The most palpable feeling was that ability to breathe again.
Like I’d been in a pressure tank, running out of air, and someone had finally opened the door.
” She paused, considering her words. “Or rather, I opened the door. I was terrified, and felt all these eyes on me, and of course my coming out was very intertwined with Baker’s, so I was always worrying about her, too—but through all of that, at least I could breathe. ”
“I’m sorry you went through that,” Aubrey said quietly.
“Thank you,” Baker answered. “I’m sorry you’re going through it now.”
Aubrey swallowed. “Does it actually get easier?”
“Yes,” Hannah said immediately. “You have to remember that nothing you’re going through is new. That’s not to say it’s not hard, because it is. But so many people have been in this exact situation and come out just fine on the other side. It’s clichéd to say it, but the only way out is through.”
Aubrey hung her head. “I just … I want to know that I’ll be happy.”
“We can’t promise you that,” Hannah told her. “We can’t promise a straight or cisgender kid, either. But I can promise you that there is space in the world to be your fully queer self. Even if you can’t see it right now.”
“Are you happy?” I asked them.
“Oh, absolutely,” Baker said, like it was as easy as answering two plus two.
“In my daily life, I don’t really think about how long it took to get to this point.
Maybe that sounds weird. But I’m more preoccupied with the same things my friends are—my career, the wedding, the next project we need to take on with the house.
I’m happy and I’m living the life I want, but it’s in a regular, ordinary way.
There’s no jumping out of bed each morning feeling ‘euphoric’ that this is my life, but when I do stop to think about it, I’m overwhelmingly grateful.
” She shrugged. “And then our dishwasher leaks and I’m back in everyday reality, but I’m doing it with my best friend, and I get to fall asleep with her every night. ”
“That sounds like the dream.”
“It is,” Hannah said, “but what we’re trying to tell you is that it happens slowly, one day at a time, one coming out experience at a time.”
I believed her, and I could see on Aubrey’s face that she believed her, too.
I had a sudden awareness of myself, of how small I was in the vast order of things, but it was a pure and comforting kind of smallness, the kind that made me feel like I was standing in the midst of a giant cathedral and watching the sunlight pour through the stained glass.
“Thank you,” Aubrey said quietly. She wiped her sleepy, red-rimmed eyes. “I wish we didn’t have to leave.”
“I’m not sure I want you leaving this late, anyway,” Baker said. “You need sleep. Both of you. If it’s okay with your parents, our guest room is free.”
The guest room was small, simple, and dimly lit in a way that invited burrowing.
The curtains hung high over the windows and nearly touched the old wooden floor.
A well-worn rug tied the room together and looked as soft as something from a preschool classroom; I longed to rub my bare feet against it.
The bed was neatly made with a patterned quilt and long, soft pillows.
A small white desk was pushed against the far wall, covered with papers, billing statements, and wedding invoices.
“Sorry about the desk,” Hannah said as if reading my mind. “Most of our wedding vendor contracts end up here.”
“We keep our overflow books in here,” Baker added, “if you like to read before bed.”
“There are two fans in case you get hot. My sister is kind of a diva when she comes to visit.”
“Do you need anything else?” Baker asked. “If you get hungry or thirsty, feel free to help yourselves. Don’t be shy.”
“We’ll be okay,” I assured them, “but thank you. Really.”
“All right,” Hannah said, clicking on another lamp for us. “Sleep well, and don’t be afraid to knock on our door if you need anything.”
“Good night, Aubrey. Good night, Louisa,” Baker said with a kind smile.
“Good night.”
And then they had shut the door, and Aubrey and I were alone in the room.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m all right,” she assured me. “I feel better.”
We slipped under the covers and stayed on our respective sides of the bed, but it was comfortable and normal. Aubrey rolled on her side to look at me.
“Thank you for being here.”
“Thank you for letting me be.”
“Do you think we could be happy like this someday?” she asked. And my heart skipped, because I wasn’t sure who we was: if she meant the two of us together, or just us as queer people in a bigger way.
“Yes,” I told her, and I believed it in my bones.
The fan overhead circled in a steady, calming way.
Beyond my door was the distant sound of Jolene’s nails clacking happily on the floor.
I closed my eyes and listened. I smelled the faded laundry detergent on the pillowcase.
I sent up a prayer that I could hold on to this feeling of coming to shore when I awoke.
It was the fastest I’d ever fallen asleep.