Never in my life did I think I would end up an actress in this sense. I’m not talking about the kind of actress that graces the stage or screen, but the type that acts all day everyday with almost everyone I come in contact with in the hopes that they don’t discover my “secret”. Overall, I think most people have a strong desire to label someone’s sexuality, “Are you gay?” many have asked ,heads cocked to the side, a slight smile letting me know my latest act has failed.  That question makes the sadness within me swell because I can no longer hide. I don’t have it in me anymore to look those I love and respect in the eye and avoid the questions they so boldly ask. Simultaneously, thinking about my response and their reaction makes me start to feel like I am going insane.”Sometimes” I reply “I am pretty gay” pausing before I say ”but not last night, last night my line was as straight as a Roman nose and last night I rode a cowboy from here to kingdom come while enjoying every second of it.” This response of course leads into the bisexual line of questioning. What does that word even mean? Bisexual? It sounds to me like a word invented by men who head porn companies in order to illicit some sort of physical response from the millions of “straight” folks who LOVE watching two women kiss.  Am I bisexual?…..no. I love people not genitalia, it’s an effort to be close to someone physically without the over analyzing of gender. I spend most of my days wishing I had never opened Pandora’s Box that night when a let her into my heart and onto my body.

 I have had my moments of trying to forget, I even moved 1,500 miles away from my home to “straighten out”  but once the gender lines get crossed it seems reverting back to complete heterosexuality  is impossible. Sometimes less daring people will ask me …”What are you?” Like I am an animal or an exotic plant they are unfamiliar with,  I wish I could  reply….I am the woman who would offer you my pulse for seeing who I am and not who I sleep with. I am the woman who would give her life for any and all of the children who have saved mine just by existing. I am the woman who would sacrifice anything for a friend. I am woman who wishes to be rid of her sins of omission. I am a woman who wants to make her mother proud while wearing a white wedding dress with a handsome groom. I am a woman who needs to make music and art to live. I am a woman who has been more blessed than I can ever fully recount without being brought to my knees. I am a woman who loves and is loved. I am a woman who will paint her body with needles dipped in ink just so I never forget a moment in time or a memory in this life. I am a woman living life afraid of being found out but equally afraid that by silencing who I am I am slowly suffocating my soul. I spend days wondering is it really so cut and dry for some? Do some folks really eliminate an entire group of people based on what is or is not between their legs?

Recently, I was in Home depot listening intently as Marty in his orange vest explained my plumbing issues. “A toilet” he explained “will only work if it has an equal number of male and female parts.”  Of course, I thought here it is the Christian and societal rhetoric reinforced in everything I do including something as benign as my fucking toilets. No wonder I feel so lost, I often entertain the idea of finding the perfect man and putting all of this behind me. Problem is I know chances are I would only date him in the hopes of getting an invitation to help his sister pick out lingerie while watching her model it.  Am I expected to believe there is anyone on this earth who doesn’t get excited at the prospect of a beautiful woman in a wife beater and boy panties sitting next to them?  For the record, I’m calling bull shit on that.  I do believe for some they would prefer to stare at her rather than love her but the lust still exists…. right? Why then has this become such a burden for me?  Why my inability to accept my secret?  I dream of being reborn completely heterosexual (if there is such a thing), I idealize it much like being born white and into privilege; maybe only then would I be comfortable in my own skin. I dream often too of being a reborn a beautiful African boy with music in his soul and a gleam in his eye. I dream of the days pre puberty when for a while playing on hills as a little girl I felt normal. I dream of waking up and loving myself, regardless of who is or is not lying next to me…..I dream of being free.

I notice her smile immediately it’s the  only thing she has to offer, you can see it in the way her lips stretch across her cheeks like arms in an unconditional embrace.  Her finger nails are painted, there are a few rings on them, and she would love for  her hair to grow in again soon. Before the chemo her hair dresser made it real big on top and gave her bangs, she liked it like that. 

She will  never be fully informed on some things just like I will never understand who really raises and rides horses, then again she’s been here a lot longer than me she’s seen everything from men who dangle cigarettes between their teeth to women who are walking hypocrites.

I stand up, I give her my chair but I feel like there’s something more happening here…..I feel like a wet, dirty, sponge that will never come clean, I feel like her heart cannot be restocked often enough, I feel like someone who wants to help stuck on the wrong side of helplessness, I feel like everything just got complicated, I feel like I was taught to say a lot of stupid shit about “country folk”  and I feel like if I were to identify myself as gay this conversation would stop……it’s what I do, I feel, I get scared sometimes and I hide.

But, in 1 minute and 18 seconds I’m gonna walk out of here with a car full of friends, my journal, and a 6 pack of beer while there’s a Woman still sitting behind a granite counter somewhere in Texas who says she wants nothing more than to hear my whole story… all 78,987 miles of it, I can feel it though y’all she’s heard more opinions and cowboy small talk than Jesus has heard wishes so I only find the nerve to tell her the good stuff, that she’s the kindest thing to happen to me in a very long time and I want to leave it at that because people who are not  kind, have taken it farther… have made her feel like a grade school crush on the dusty back roads  or a baby in a bonnet before dropping her hopes and watching them shatter. 

I feel like she’s been waiting here a long time for the one who will come two stepping through her door in a pair of boots without making her feel like it’s her job to pick up his pieces when he’s been cracked again.  She doesn’t need him or any other man but she doesn’t know that either and I’m just hoping like crazy she will realize she’s the one, the answer lies in.  I feel like she’s 50 years old wearing 65 badly,  crying inside like certain kinds of dances a song made to speak through you, a symphony if we weren’t so taken with movements.

 But she was never given those words she has not been told  she can definitely change the world, she knows some people do but not country girls and not with lottery tickets. So, I finally ask her what I’ve been feeling the entire time I’m standing here still getting scared like I do sometimes really, really ready to drive I ask…..can I help you?…..is there anything I can do?  Her smile collapsed, that beautiful skin it went loose, her heart fell crooked she said….not remembering my real name “I can tell Sweetheart,  by the journal and the bottles of beer…were both taken with bullshit, we’ve both believed in mean Gods, we both spend our money on things that break too easily like…..people and I can tell you think you’ve had it rough  so especially you should know kid this is what I do…. I dream…..I get scared sometimes…….and I’m gonna beat this thing on someone’s terms…..it just might not be mine.

She narrated everything she was doing as only a good teacher would, “add the sugar” she reminded gently ”but don’t add too much or the icing will be too sweet.” I stared into the pot with a little girls curiosity as the chocolate squares and sugar melted into a perfectly smooth icing. “Sing with me” she would  say and though I knew immediately which song she would sing I looked forward to it as though it was the first time. She would begin ‘Each night before I go to bed my baby”……my small voice joining in as she smiled and said “Louder, Louder we want everyone to hear you….just like an angel….I SAY A LITTLE PRAYER FOR YOU MY BABY.”  Then just as she had done so many times before she would laugh, that contagious laugh where she would gasp for air as though she was so happy she couldn’t bear it.

I would watch in awe as she iced the cake as though I were watching a movie, it seemed as though she did it all in one fluid motion all the while humming and smiling. I was in awe of her, her perfectly clean house, her perfectly neat hair-even the bobby pins seemed to shine as though they had been polished. My aunt who in a house dress was more beautiful than any movie star I had ever seen. I loved these days with her, just her and I baking and singing which now as I approach my 30^th year are the two things I enjoy more than anything else.

I do miss her….I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t give to go back to those days on Miami Beach in the 80’s. Her back door open so the smell of salt water mixed with the cake like an indescribable perfume, the mirrored walls in her living room where I watched my reflection change from a little girl to an awkward adult, the way she would sit on the couch when “Knots Landing” would come on or tell me that it was only a few minutes until my Uncle would be home and then disappear in the bedroom only to re-appear even more radiant than before. It’s funny, I can’t remember the first time I stayed there but I do remember the last…I had just finished eating a slice of her homemade cake and my fingers traced the pattern on lace tablecloth covered with a shiny plastic. She was watching the Henry Ford story on television and called me over to her….”You see?” she said “his son died because he felt no one loved him,  aren’t you lucky? I love you enough for the whole world, as long as you have me you will never feel unloved.” She then walked me to the guest room to tuck me in she turned off the light and shut the door, the smell of cake still lingering in the air from earlier in the evening. You know, if I try hard enough I can still hear her voice on the other side of my door singing sweetly “This is dedicated to the one I love.”

Meg thought the day seemed almost too breezy, as only days in dreams could to be. The limbs of the tree under which the car was parked rocked back and forth creating a faint creaking sound that reminded her of the front porch door. Her father had told her and Teresa to wait outside while he looked for the “Damn car keys”, she wasn’t sure what damn meant but she knew her father used it when he was upset, and he had been upset as far back as she could remember. Teresa clung to her tattered doll, her teeth chattering as her soft, brown, curled bangs poked her in the eyes. “Where are we going?” she asked “Don’t ask questions, just do what daddy says” Meg snapped. Meg knew daddy had been drinking the stuff that smelled funny again, he called it his “whiskey”, she didn’t know much about it except she was sure that it had demons in the bottle which made daddy scary and angry. She had smelled it on his breath in the hospital where they left mommy and her brother.

“Damn it, I told you two to get in the car” daddy yelled from the doorway. Meg hurriedly ran over to Teresa to put her in the car, she wanted to get her and Teresa squished in the middle of the backseat to get their seat belt on before daddy came outside. The car smelled like stale cigarettes, beer, and that whiskey stuff and while Meg used to think the smell was gross she now found it comforting. The front porch screen door slamming rattled Meg out of her train of thought, daddy stumbling came across the gravel driveway talking softly to himself. “This damn car smells like shit” he barked Meg, now strapped in with Teresa right next to her  focused on the keys carelessly dangling from the ignition.  An old, faded green rabbits foot, a bottle opener and a coin with a hole in the top of it that said “one day at a time.” Meg loved that saying “one day at a time“, why do people think about things as tentative as forever? Just worry about today, today was a promise you can make, tomorrow not so much.

Gary threw the old station wagon into gear and ripped out of the gravel driveway as fast as he could, was he was doing the right thing?  The girls would be much better off with his mother rather than him and Rachel; it was only temporary, until the baby got healthy, until he figured things out. “Daddy” Teresa’s small voice interrupted his thought “What” his voice sounded gruff and scary he barely recognized it anymore; it was the kind of voice he had hated as a child, a voice that was an exact echo of his fathers. “Oh…well… Meg said that we umm, well we”  “Stop talking” Gary barked “your voice is driving me crazy um, uh, um, just be quiet until we get there!” “Get where daddy?” Gary felt his blood start to boil, why did these kids, his kids piss him off so much?  They were babies really, only 4 and 6 but he already felt himself wishing they would just grow the fuck up. He could tell Meg was nervous for her sister, he watched in the rear view as she put her pointer finger to her mouth and silently mouthed shhhh, Meg got it, she knew shit had to be taken “one day at a time.” It was only in the last few months that his and Rachel’s drinking had gotten the best of them and everything they had worked for went out the window. He could fix it though, if he could drop the girls off at his mother’s while Rachel and the baby were still in the hospital he could go down to the state rehab and detox, they took payments there and this time he would pay. Even if they had his past due bills on file, they would have to let him in now that he has 3 children; he needs this to happen it just has to.  

As daddy turned the corner Teresa’s eyes widened, she knew this house; she had been here once before, the night the police had to take daddy away in those silver bracelets. she remembered the lady who lived here, the lady who had told her and Meg that she was daddy’s mommy and made them both warm biscuits with sweet red jelly, strawberry maybe. Meg also remembered the house and the woman who lived there, the woman she seen for the first and last time a year ago, the woman who asked that she call her “grandma.” As the car pulled up the dust from the road completely hid the house, it appeared like a shadowy stranger little by little shingle by shingle. The old white house stood alone on the barely traveled route 66, set back just a few inches from the road. The rusty, tattered mailbox sat in front tilted and bent with the words Hadden painted on the side in uneven, faded black paint. The fly strip across the porch waved like a flag and the front door was wide open allowing Meg a peek inside. “Get out” daddy barked, “Hurry up and don’t forget your bag- it’s got your pajamas in it, I’ll be right back.”  Meg undid the seat belt and as soon as her foot hit the gravel daddy roared the engine, “Hurry up damn it go, go, I said I’ll be right back.” Meg standing in the driveway started to cry which of course in turn was Teresa’s cue to do the same; Gary threw the car in reverse, a lit cigarette dangling out of his mouth. “Daddy” Teresa yelled, “My dolly, daddy don’t leave me without my dolly!”  It was too late, he was not listening, and the girls watched sobbing as the red tail lights got smaller and smaller until finally they were only a memory, “He’ll be right back” Meg whispered.

Me: Here we go. 

Jason: So you know how my mom runs that crazy Tori Amos fan site?

Me: What? No, I didnt know that.  Jesus, Jason what the hell is wrong with her?

Jason: I dont know but anyway listen to this, about a month ago she met some twenty year old girl on that site and they really hit it off.

Me: Oh God,  if you tell me your mom dyked out with someone thirty years younger than her I am so hanging up.  

Jason: C’mon now, you know my mom is strictly dickly it runs in the family,  no. Anyway she meets this chick from Ohio on her fan page and invites this girl and her boyfriend to come and visit her in Florida for a week.

Me: God, this is creepy.

Jason: Oh thats not even the crazy part, so I have no clue about any of this until I get a knock on my door at 2 am. My mother and this bitch from the internet are standing in the hallway with a bag of weed and a water bong.

Me: Holy Shit! what did you do?

Jason: What do you think I did? I grabbed the bag of weed and headed for the balcony!

Me: Oh my God! Have you ever smoked with your mom before?

Jason: A few times…but the crazy thing is my roomate woke up to go take a piss and the next day he was all like “Who were those people smoking weed on the balcony?” and I was like “dude, that was my mom”.

Me: Jason, that is so strange.

Jason: I know right, I dont know whether to be creeped out or proud.  Anyway, I have something weird to tell you.

Me: Weirder than a 50 year old woman running a fan site, soliciting people off of it for company, and then showing up with said company at her sons rental apartment to get high?

Jason: Yes.

Me: Oh great, whats up?

Jason: Ok, well dont freak out, everything is fine now but….I sort of had cancer.

Me: What?

Jason: Yeah

Me: Wait a minute….what?

Jason: It’s nothing really a little melanoma, but I had the surgery last week and they got it all.

Me: I talked to you last week why didnt you tell me?

Jason: It seems like nothing is ever real until I tell it to you, this was something I didnt want to be real so I just played it off.

Me: Are you ok?

Jason: yeah, Im in a little bit of pain because they had to remove the lymph node in my groin but Im going to be fine.

Me: Jesus……

“There are places i’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain.”- The Beatles

October 2004

Me: Don’t say a word, I have to say what I’m going to say because if I don’t I think I might literally go insane. Every bone in my body is telling me not to tell you this; I know that by doing so I am jeopardizing our friendship. In fact in my mind I am almost positive that by the time I am done saying what I need to say to you we won’t be able to look at each other the same, I am at a point however where that is a risk I am willing to take. I don’t think you feel the same way and it’s because of that I am prepared to feel embarrassment and rejection, two of my least favorite emotions. Maybe I will feel greedy for not just taking what you have already given me and instead giving you access to my inner most thoughts. Thoughts which at times seem too raw and dominant for even my own mind to handle, how can I expect yours to react with anything but shock?

Let me start at the beginning, I just can’t stop thinking about you, it’s crazy I know but everything about you has captivated me. I feel like a caged animal just spending my days waiting for that smile or a look you can give that in so many ways is the closest I’ll ever be to being set free.  What started out as intrigue and admiration grew into friendship and has now blossomed into something I never saw coming. It doesn’t take much to tell you don’t feel the same, I think you enjoy our time together but I don’t think you miss me when I’m gone. For me it is just the opposite, I can spend hours with you and then like a junkie craving a fix as soon as you leave I want more. It just never seems to be enough, enough time, enough conversation, enough of you.  You asked me once in a roundabout way about intentions, I swear I never had any idea this would happen….subconsciously maybe but it never crept into the fore front and I literally had no idea how deep in I was until it was too late to crawl out.

No, please don’t turn around I have to get this out just listen, a month ago I was sitting in a mansion on the beach and every song reminded me of you. Every song, it was so unreal and every day at 5:00 my heart would start freaking out because I knew that maybe you would call. I would walk up and down the beach numerous times waiting for your call and when it came I smiled the entire time. When we were done speaking no matter the length of the call it just never felt like enough. I know that you think that this is just me transferring my feelings to you because of proximity; I know you think I am young and restless and that I have turned to you because you seem like a safe bet. The thing is my reasoning is exactly the opposite, you are not safe and I am not much of a gambler. What I can tell for a fact is that when you are near me I feel like a burst of oxygen is immediately infused into my lungs. I feel a torrent of passion like it is taking all the strength I have to restrain the animal inside of me that wants to hold you down and kiss you. Don’t you see it in me at all? It just seems so implausible that I would feel so strongly about you and you feel nothing in return. 

Please stop staring at me like that, I know this makes me sound  crazy but truth is I can’t get you off of my mind. Maybe it’s just lust, maybe it will pass, in fact I would almost bet that if the fruit I wanted to taste so badly was bitten into the temptation would subside a least a bit. Why don’t we just call this game a tie and meet in the middle? No, don’t do that please don’t dismiss what I am saying, I am not confused and I am absolutely not tricking myself into thinking I feel this way. Truth be told I have felt this way to some degree since I first saw you, you are captivating. I also know that you are going to say that you are afraid of ruining our friendship but what about the quote “friends make the best lovers.” Ok, I get that they only make awesome lovers until shit falls apart and you lose them, but have you ever stopped to think that maybe I could be the one that worked out? Maybe I could be the exception. I get that right now you just want to have fun; I understand that the idea of getting into another relationship seems impossible. So let’s go with that, I am fine with just having fun but I cannot go another day without telling you that I can’t stop dwelling on tasting your lips. So I’ll take what I can get…..It’s not that I have a big ego, it’s just how can you not want me even just a little bit? Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wonder what it would be like to wake up the next morning tangled together after a night that we never thought would end.  I have been enamored and infatuated before but this is different, I feel like you sent out a signal and I heard it. I just don’t think that I am the one you wanted to answer maybe you wanted a blonde, someone taller, definitely older and wealthier.

JASON: Let’s get drunk and listen to the “Doors”.

ME: What?

JASON: Let’s get drunk and listen to the “Doors”.

ME: Are you serious? You do realize I’m almost 30.

JASON: No, youre not, youre 28 and besides that who gives a shit?  My mom is almost 50 and she still gets stoned.

ME: Ok, when trying to make an arguement for it to be possible to be an accomplished human being while also being pot head your mom is not the best choice.

JASON: My mom is hot.

ME:  Jason, that is fucking creepy!

JASON: What? She is! You even said she was.

ME:  Jesus, I was 18 and she was wearing pleather in your grandparents living room!  

JASON: Well….whatever, she’s hot…In fact I think thats part of the reason Im gay. I knew I was never going to be able to date a woman as hot as my mom.

ME:You are a Freudian nightmare.

JASON: Do you remember that time I was living with my dealers and everytime you came over I would make you watch the J-LO South Park episode?

ME: I only came over once.  Holy shit, wasnt that the night I ate a hard bolied egg and a package of Extra Hot  Tabasco flavored Slim Jims?

JASON: hahaha, thats right!

ME: Dude, that shit is not funny, my lips were swollen for like a week.

JASON: That was the night you made me puke by  pushing me too high on that swing set. 

ME: Was I in college then?

JASON: Yeah, that was when you were dating that hot Cuban guy.

ME: Manny.

JASON Yeah, Manny… What happened to that guy?

ME: I dont know, he never called me after the third date when I still wouldnt put out.

JASON: What a Prick.

ME: No, he was actually really sweet, I bet he’s married with a few kids now.

JASON: I bet he’s divorced, Who cares? Do you remember that party I had your Senior year, when I crashed your moms car into the tree in my front yard?

ME: ummm yeah, what about it?

JASON: See, youre moms not hot, so thats why you are gay. You could easily find  a girl as hot as your mom to bang.

ME: I’m not gay and I’m going to bed.

JASON: You are as gay as I am, and sister thats pretty gay…G-A-Y!  Are you sure you dont wanna get drunk and listen to the ……..*******Door Slams*****

I have been stuck these past few days replaying a moment when I let an opportunity, maybe the only opportunity I will ever have with her pass me by. That moment in time will not let go, it will just not release me no matter how much I plead. I saw her sitting there alone that night, I noticed and my fear held me captive and did not allow me to utter a word. She was the first thing I noticed in a room full of chaos, her face expressionless, her eyes lowered, I knew then the connection was powerful….still I did nothing. I simply walked passed her time and time again, each time my breathing becoming more shallow as I thrust my nose high in the air, not giving her so much as a glance. I thought she would feel it, In my puzzle of a mind my lack of action would have spoken to her….it did not. Here I am some time later and I have to wonder can she now feel what she missed that night? I walked by and left her sitting there alone and lonely…. she looked so sad and empty. How could I have not realized then what I may have been giving up by playing it cool? I am trying to stand still  but doing nothing is so much more painful than putting up a fight. Am I really supposed to just sit back and relax when my heart it shattering at a record pace? Am I supposed to force my mind into numbness when it is racing so fiercely I can hardly breathe? I cant spell it out for her, I am just not that honest, not that eloquent, not that poised.  She has a way of rhapsodizing when she speaks, my eyes glaze as she finds beauty in things I hadn’t even noticed.  How did I become a player in this game? I didn’t know the stakes and suddenly here I am amongst a garden full of apples and a floor full of snakes.

It’s an easy theory to understand, if you get burned once you will most likely not repeat the action, if you do surely the result will be exactly the same….or will it? This theory is not only applied literally in the act of getting burned but metaphorically when it comes to love. Burned once scorned for an eternity, how I wish we could all fall in love like we did that first time without jaded eyes and wounded hearts. There is so much to overcome the second and third times around the healing hurts like hell, and the recovery is a demon to overcome. I was cut open and it seemed as if the bleeding would never stop, each drop spelling a letter in the name that has become synonymous with the construction of all my emotional walls. How I wish it was as easy as us going away somewhere where reality took a backseat, where honesty was inevitable and our emotional connection wasn’t judged or feared by not only others but us as well.

It scares me to know how often I find you on my mind, it doesn’t make sense but it is a fact. Little else can bring a smile to my face as quickly and effortlessly as your words, your voice, any of you in any capacity.  I feel like you not only listen but you hear, like you not only look but you see.  No matter how much I try nothing changes, my mind still races, yours still questions. As much as I have tried to convince myself that I was far too broken to repair, that the damage had been too great, I know when I look at you that I am not as broken as I had thought. I’ve realized that while my mind may have tried to throw the towel in my heart will simply not allow it. It was not broken but simply frozen for a moment and the warmth I have found in you has started to allow it to thaw out. My heart has been reached, my walls have started to become disassembled and I am diving head first towards the pavement. I can’t fight it, the descent is imminent so I must try to enjoy the ride. 

It’s an easy theory to understand, if you get burned once you will most likely not repeat the action, if you do surely the result will be exactly the same….or will it? This theory is not only applied literally in the act of getting burned but metaphorically when it comes to love. Burned once scorned for an eternity, how I wish we could all fall in love like we did that first time without jaded eyes and wounded hearts. There is so much to overcome the second and third times around the healing hurts like hell, and the recovery is a demon to overcome. I was cut open and it seemed as if the bleeding would never stop, each drop spelling a letter in the name that has become synonymous with the construction of all my emotional walls. How I wish it was as easy as us going away somewhere where reality took a backseat, where honesty was inevitable and our emotional connection wasn’t judged or feared by not only others but us as well.

It scares me to know how often I find you on my mind, it doesn’t make sense but it is a fact. Little else can bring a smile to my face as quickly and effortlessly as your words, your voice, any of you in any capacity.  I feel like you not only listen but you hear, like you not only look but you see.  No matter how much I try nothing changes, my mind still races, yours still questions. As much as I have tried to convince myself that I was far too broken to repair, that the damage had been too great, I know when I look at you that I am not as broken as I had thought. I’ve realized that while my mind may have tried to throw the towel in my heart will simply not allow it. It was not broken but simply frozen for a moment and the warmth I have found in you has started to allow it to thaw out. My heart has been reached, my walls have started to become disassembled and I am diving head first towards the pavement. I can’t fight it, the descent is imminent so I must try to enjoy the ride.