The humiliation. From feeling the way I felt, like I was stripped naked in front of everyone. The fear that gripped me when I was reminded of the reality surrounding the wonderful bubble that was our relationship. We were atChristiansummer camp. What did I think was going to happen? What did Hannah think was going to happen after all that backlash?
“You really think a bunch of teenagers are going to storm yourhouseto out you?”
“Obviously I don’t think that,” I huff, just about ready to scream. “But we go to church, and some of those kids go to my church. Maybe they will snitch on me and think they’re doing the right thing.”
I have two parents who were born and raised in the Baptistfaith. They believe every move they’ve made in their lives was decided by God. My mom says the only reason she opened herself up to dating after her previous relationships is because she was at a church event and she felt moved, divinely affected, when my dad entered the room. So how would they feel? The baby that they blessed, baptized, and Bible studied turns out to be one of the many things their whole belief system rejects. To say they’d be surprised is an understatement. To think that they might not look at me the same way is too big of a risk to take.
“I mean, Clarity, what are you going to do?” Hannah asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Suddenly Hannah’s car doesn’t have nearly enough oxygen to breathe. My chest vibrates, my head starts spinning like a wheel—slow and then picking up speed.
WhatamI going to do? Stay in the closet forever? Be alone forever? Date far away at college, but never let anyone get close enough so that my love life and home life won’t meet? These are the questions that kept me up at night right after the Incident, after I stopped sneaking out my window.
I didn’twantto be gay. If I had parents who didn’t care, then I wouldn’t care. But if a bunch of God’sfaithful youthshave so much to say about it, how muchmorewill my parents have?
Still, I can’t deny what I felt. I can’t deny the slight pull I feel inside me every time I lock eyes with Hannah in the hallway—the pull I feel now, dulled only by my endless avoidance of my feelings. I can’t ignore the fact that I’ve never liked a boy this way, not even Jameson.
And as I gradually fell for Hannah, I didn’t even see it. It happened effortlessly and seemed so normal that I didn’t think twice; I didn’t stop to think about where we were and the possible repercussions, because most of the time it was just us. Us, her Subaru, the stars, and the trees…
That’s how it’s supposed to be.
I remember Kristen describing what it’s like to find “your person,” to have someone in your corner in a way more meaningful than friendship. How hearing her talk about it made me realize what Hannah and I had was love. And Hannah was right when she said those feelings didn’t just go away when we were found together. But here I am denying myself,punishingmyself.
Maybe even punishing her, too.
“I don’t know, okay?” I say, pressing my palms against my eyes so that the darkness can stop my whirlwind of thoughts for at least a few moments.
Now I’m the one whose voice is cracking, not around tears but around anger. Until we were discovered by those counselors, and their assumptions and opinions barged in, my relationship with Hannah was real. It was everything. I was secure and happy.
I want you to be happy.
How can Jameson’s text be true? Iwashappy, but my beliefs taught me that that version of happy is somehow wrong. That despite everything good that has happened between Hannah and me, somehow genuine feelings aren’t enough when it happens between two girls.
I don’t believe that.
I can feel Hannah staring at me as I force myself to look out the passenger window instead of at her.
I imagine myself going through life alone. Eating alone, going to sleep alone, watching TV alone, never having someone to turn to, to show a good line from a book or a funny TikTok to. Me, as alone as I am now, but forever.
Because it would have to be with a girl, or with no one at all.
The truth. I felt free acknowledging it this summer. I felt right. I hate that what I was taught, what my parents were taught, makes being my genuine self more complicated than it’s supposed to be.
But like Hannah pointed out, I haven’t denied liking girls, because that’s exactly what liking her means. No matter how much I avoid the truth or shove it down, it’s stilltrue.
We roll to a stop in front of my house, Hannah’s sigh echoing in the space around us.
“Clarity, people will accept you. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not some monster you have to protect your family from.”
“I don’t care about other people,” I tell her.
I focus my gaze on my house. I know Mom is somewhere inside, probably in sweats, waiting for our food delivery, ready to spend the night in front of the TV with me.
“Every person on the planet could accept me, and it would mean nothing without my family.” I turn around to look at Hannah and find her speechless, not in a bad way but in anI wasn’t expecting thatkind of way.
My parents were around more when I was younger. I know what it’s like to sit down to dinner every day after school, to have my dad give me a high five when I finally figured out how to multiply, to have my mom sit on the end of my bed and teach me witty comebacks for when Gwen Archinna tried to make fun of my hair again.
Then dinner turned into a twenty-dollar bill on the counter with a Post-it telling me to order Chinese, and needing help with homework turned into my mom staying up at the computer, researching, and hiring a local college student to tutor me. More surgeries, more patients, more of an inconvenience to be at home with me.