Ignorance is bliss, as they say.”
“So, what happened after that? How long did you stay together?”
Carmela savored the sweet memories before her chest ached and her throat went dry. “Almost two years. Until my parents came home early one night because my dad slipped while they were bowling and hurt his arm. I hadn’t expected them back for hours.” Carmela turned cold as a thin film of sweat developed over her skin. The memories were still so vivid after so many years. Not many people could identify the definitive end of their childhoods like she could.
“Oh no. . . what happened?” The dread in her face made it obvious Rhiannon guessed exactly what happened. No, probably not exactly. Her parents had likely never called her names like what was hurled at her.
Carmela gritted her teeth. “They caught us in a way we couldn’t explain away. And the reaction was extreme. Fast forward a week, after I refused to say I was sorry and wouldn’t do it again. . .” Her words shook as she struggled against the tide of old anxiety ripping through her chest.
“After I wouldn’t say I was a deviant and promise to change, they tossed me out into the street. I was sixteen, homeless, with nothing to my name. Well, that’s not true.” She laughed bitterly. “My mom did sneak me three hundred dollars. I
have no idea where she got it from, but that was her daring defense of her daughter.”
“Carm,” Rhiannon lunged forward and tackle-hugged her. The pressure of her arms around her neck kept her from falling apart under the crushing weight of her bad memories.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. That’s horrendous. I can’t believe you went through that.”
There were no words to say, so Carmela didn’t try to find any. Instead, she let Rhiannon hold her together until a knock on the door broke their embrace.
“Oh, the food,” Rhiannon announced as she wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon Rhiannon yanked on a robe and bolted for the door, Carmela threw herself back onto the bed and pulled the covers over herself. The last thing she’d expected to think about on Jackie’s wedding trip was the last time she saw her parents.
Using old breathing techniques she hadn’t needed in years, Carmela steadied the tremor in her muscles and calmed her racing heart. The nausea and dizziness took much longer to dissipate and were still lingering when Rhiannon returned with a large tray.
“We don’t have to eat this, but I didn’t want to leave the guy standing there,” she explained with palpable unease as she set the tray on the foot of the bed.
“Don’t be silly. Let’s eat while it’s hot,” Carmela said as she waved away Rhiannon’s gloom and her own. “The skeletons in my closet will keep for a while longer,” she added before forcing herself to smile.
Rhiannon hesitated but followed her lead. The pancake breakfast was delicious, though Carmela regretted the awkwardness that had cropped up between them. She shouldn’t have told her the whole story. It was much too soon. As she pushed blueberries o her pancakes, she
realized that she’d really wanted to share that part of herself with her. The story hadn’t slipped; she’d shared it intentionally.
They picked at their plates while trying, and failing, to eat. Carmela broke the tension. “It wasn’t all bad, you know.
I mean, I did obviously make it out alive.”
“I can’t imagine how,” Rhiannon replied, setting down her fork as if she’d been waiting to exhale.
“Well, I managed to find a youth shelter that didn’t discriminate against gay kids with the help of a very sympathetic librarian. It was down in Miami, so I had to leave school. . . not that I would’ve had the nerve to go back. I assumed the word about me spread pretty quickly.”
Rhiannon held up her hands as if asking for a timeout.
“What do you mean, a youth shelter that wouldn’t discriminate? You were a homeless child! Why weren’t your parents arrested and you a orded a proper home? And does that mean there were other places that left you on the street for being a lesbian?”
Carmela’s face softened as she regarded Rhiannon’s outrage sympathetically. “You have to remember it was a di erent world. People got away with murder under the guise of gay panic. Lots of people thought we were deviants.
No di erent than violent predators. There was just so much misinformation and prejudice. Trust me, I was happy to have found a safe place to sleep, food to eat, and somewhere I was truly myself. The therapy was good too,” she added before taking a sip of co ee. “Almost everyone was a volunteer, and they made all the di erence in my life. I could’ve fallen apart or given up, but they were there day in and out keeping me motivated and hopeful for the future.”
“I don’t know how you did it,” Rhiannon said as she pressed her palm to her chest. “I’m not that strong.”
“You’d be surprised at what you’re capable of when survival instincts take over. Despite yourself, you keep putting one foot in front of the other. And that’s what I did with the help of all those devoted people. In a few months I had a high school equivalency diploma and two jobs,” she explained, straightening her back. “One cleaning o ce buildings at night and another flipping burgers during the day.”
“When the hell did you sleep?” Rhiannon shrieked.
“I kept missing the shelter’s curfew because of my night job,” she admitted. “There was a real estate o ce in one of the buildings. After a while, I noticed no one was there at night. So I started sleeping there.”
“Weren’t you afraid?”