Chapter Three #3
Amir started. “Single in the city.” The four of us gasped, because Amir’s most recent boyfriend, Moss, was hands-down our favorite. It’d be hard to top that one because how and why did they break up.
Next, Aaliyah said, “Freezing eggs,” which made my mouth drop.
If I was the family outlier for not having an artistic hobby or career, Aaliyah was second-least imaginative.
Her ability to get straight to the point was truly so boring.
But I also wanted to know what made her change her mind.
Aaliyah always said we were her kids, but that mindset had obviously changed.
It was my turn now, but I didn’t know how to sum up how the last few months of my life have been. To start, I left Jersey finally kissing girls out in the open and not in the closet, yet I still had no desire to settle down. As if I thought being out meant I was fully ready to love.
I’d say I’m about halfway there.
Gossip roundups weren’t meant to have a winner, but, naturally, I made it a competition.
I wanted to be the sibling with the most follow-up questions, for everyone to ask me why it took so long to be comfortable saying I was a lesbian, not bisexual, if a stranger asked.
The idea of moving to Miami scratched an itch I hadn’t been able to reach in months, and I wanted my siblings to be excited for me.
“Miami spring break,” I declared, drawing blank looks on everyone’s face. Fuck, I think I went too vague.
“Big fight with Dad,” Colette blurted out before I could change my answer.
“Stupid fight with Mom.” Her twin countered, putting us back in silence.
“So, we’re gonna need more food.” Amir nodded, his square jaw bouncing between his four younger sisters.
“And more wine,” I mumbled, “we all have some explaining to do.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Celeste interrupted me again. “So you slept through like half of your friend’s gay bar—”
“—The only gay bar in the city, by the way.” Amir reminded the group.
“And now you want to leave? To what? Sow your seeds in another city?” Aaliyah asked.
“Torment another gay bar?” Colette assumed.
“More practice kissing your friends?” Celeste joked.
I had made the mistake in telling everyone the makeout spree I went on throughout my college team, and Black Student Union and the Filipino dance team. “Hey! Let the past stay in the past!” I whined.
“Listen, Bee, I think you’re just having a quarter-life crisis. We’ve all been there.”
“Ew, we’re not old freaks like you guys.” Someone from the C-Team sneered.
“We just…want you to think this through before we start making calls. Making announcements, ruining relationships, y’know, the big stuff.” Aaliyah listed off, tapping her fingertips with her index finger.
I was aware I was coming off as the flighty type.
The one Lee who didn’t know where she was going to land her feet, because at any given point in time there’d always be one sibling who felt like they needed to flip their life around.
And while I hated coming off as indecisive, I’d like to think I was owed at least one personal life crash out.
I try to find the words I used with Danny and Perry.
“I just think it’s time to start over somewhere new. Plant new roots, make some new friends—”
“Kiss new people.”
“Oh! Just like you wanted to kiss that platinum-headed hottie.” Celeste snapped her fingers.
“Ha! No way,” Aaliyah shouted at the same time I screamed, “Ew, Nola?”
“Noolllaaaaa!” Colette jumped on the bed and swiveled her hips.
“I do not want to kiss Nola Young,” I protested, because this was a slippery slope with my little sisters.
I couldn’t overreact or they’d use it against me forever.
I couldn’t underreact because then they wouldn’t be satisfied until they got a reaction out of me.
“We’ve been rivals longer than we were friends. ”
“Since when were y’all friends?” Amir pondered. “I only met her on draft night.”
“That international tournament I did before I left for college?” I reminded my brother of the under-19 girls basketball tournament I was selected for.
I didn’t know I was being that closely watched until scout season but getting selected to represent my country was outside my realm of imagined possibilities.
That’s where I met Nola Young; before the platinum twists, before we grew up, got drafted, secured big sponsorship deals, and gained millions of followers across socials.
“Bee-sting would never. They’ve been fighting since we were going to her college games. People bet on how many fights for the season those two would get into.”
Fight was a strong word when all we’d done is get into each other’s faces, chests touching, mouths close together, neither of us relenting on ending our trash talk.
Nola and I had never had to be held back, but we paid the league a healthy amount of fines between delay of game fouls, technical fouls, and anything that occurred during post-game press.
Nola and I were equals in every sense in the sport, but we would never admit how and why we got under each other’s skin.