Freedom

Growing up in a small town in the Bible Belt of the south isn’t the easiest thing to do. Especially when you’re questioning your sexuality but too afraid to speak up. You feel trapped. It’s not easy when your grandfather is the pastor of the local church and every Sunday you lead the teen class and tell them about how much God loves everyone, only to have your grandfather preaching about “Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve” every Sunday. You can’t think about the way your heart sped up and your palms got sweaty when the blonde girl at the skating rink helped you to your feet when you fell. You can’t think about the way you notice the delicate curve of female lips and wonder what it would be like to kiss a girl.

The feelings are pushed down and locked away and you date the people they want you to. Boys. Your best friend. You date him for 6 years, but you never feel a spark. You never feel the butterflies or time slowing moments that everyone says you are supposed to. You date the hot guy. He’s buff and kind, all muscles and bright white teeth and you care about him. When he hugs you, you don’t hate it but it’s not right and you know it. They’re the only people you date until you graduate because you’ve concluded that maybe this love thing isn’t for you.

Then you meet him. It’s your first moment on your college campus and you’re lost. He’s lost. You’re lost together. Years down the road you remember the first words he ever spoke to you.

“I guess we can be lost together.”

He said it with a smile as he lifts your duffel bag onto his shoulder. He makes you feel the butterflies every time you’re in the same room. He makes your skin tingle and you long for the feel of his coarse hair beneath your fingers. When he hugs you, your body melts into his touch and you can’t imagine being anywhere else. You forget about the girl from the skating rink. You have him. It ends, and you can’t handle it. For the first time you thought you would be able to make them happy. The people at the church. Your mother who wants grandkids and reminds you at every turn. But it ends with his excited smile burning for someone else and your silent screams in your chest because you never told him how he made you feel. You swear to never do that again. The next time you will make it known.

You stay single. You don’t hate it but it’s hard at times as you watch the people around. The couples sitting around with bowed heads, whispering secrets and smiling. You try to date but none of them are the same. There are no butterflies. No melting. No tingles running down your arm at the simplest touches. No goofy smiles. Just the memory of Nutter Butters and 2 a.m. infomercials. You give up.

Then you meet her. She’s your friend first. You share secrets and go on outings. She’s fierce and passionate about her work and makes you love your own even more. Then things shift. You can’t really remember when or how but they change. You’re working late and she’s off, but she stays behind to wait the 20 minutes with you. Your back is pressed against the cold wall as you wait for the signal that you can leave and get drinks and cheese sticks like you always do. You hear her first, your eyes slide open and the world stills. Her uniform shirt is untucked. The stupid light blue button up plays at her waist and the sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. Suddenly you think the shirt never looked so good and your stomach turns. Your mind flashes back to the skating rink. The soft press of a hand in yours. Blonde hair framing a perfectly freckled face. You try and shake the thought away but now your friend is next to you and she’s undoing her hair from the clip that holds it back from her face when you work, and you smell honey. The sweet smell is magnetic pulling you back to the memories. When she smiles you know its hopeless. You’re caught in her spell. You wait but you eventually tell her. When the words, “I like you” slip from your lips you’re worried but she smiles. She takes your hand and tells you she’s flattered but she doesn’t feel the same. It hurts but you’re still friends you still have her. She knows your secret, but she loves you anyway. You want to accept your truth. You want your friends to know. Your friends, the new-found family that brings you soup when you’re sick and helps you bury your pet fish that you’ve had since you started college. You make your decision. You’re going to tell them.

I’m bi.

You repeat it like a mantra in the mirror preparing to tell your friends. You’re proud of it. The words are easy and feel right.

I’m bi.

You smile and open the door striding into the living room your heart beating hard in your chest. You say it and time stills. You watch their faces change. Smiles slowly spread across their face and they laugh. They say they knew all along. The way your eyes lingered on women with curly hair and bright eyes. Apparently, you have a type. They accept you and your heart swells with happiness because for the first time everything in your life feels right. You feel like you don’t have to hide anymore.

You’re free.