ever felt safe being fully myself. It was where I first said the words I’m gay out loud. It was where I found so many books that changed my life: Rubyfruit Jungle, Keeping You a Secret, Summer Sisters, Annie on My Mind, Women, The Miseducation of Cameron Post. The owners, Dee and Gaby, kept two giant mismatched bookshelves crammed full of dog-eared, marked-up LGBTQ books left there by customers. Taped to the top shelf was a handwritten note outlining the books’ honor system: you could borrow whatever you wanted, up to two at a time, so long as you brought them back in readable condition when you were done. And if you bought a new queer book, from their small selection or somewhere else, you were encouraged to leave it on their shelves when you were done, for someone else to discover.
Triple Moon was also where Jamie and I fell in love, though it took nearly two years for us to notice. Before we were girlfriends we were friends, I reminded myself. Somewhere inside we must still know how.
On Saturday morning I texted Jamie to ask if she wanted a ride, but she said she wanted to bike, even though the shop was at least five miles away from her house. It stung a little, and I wondered what she thought was going to happen if she got in my truck. Did she think that being side by side in such a confined space would make me cry, or beg for her back? I would have been offended, except I was a little afraid of the same thing. When we were apart I could believe I’d reached acceptance, but my body still reacted to her presence in a way I couldn’t seem to shut off.
I was too nervous to listen to music on the drive over, so I called Ronni on the speaker’s Bluetooth instead. She answered after three rings.
“What’s up.”
“Nothing much,” I said. “Just headed to Triple Moon to meet Jamie.”
I could pretty much hear Ronni close her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I actually think it’ll be really good,” I added.
“You’re a masochist, you know that?”
“I don’t know who that is,” I said, only half joking.
“What are you gonna do?”
“Homework.” Silence. I strained my ears. “Ronni?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna give you a chance to come up with something more believable.”
I laughed. “I’m serious! I brought my books and everything.”
“Just don’t cry,” said Ronni. “Even I can’t help you come back from that.”
“I’m not going to cry,” I said, which made me feel a little like crying.
“Okay, well, I was about to go for a run,” she said. “But you can text me after.”
“You’re running today? Now I feel guilty.”
“Just go later.”
“Okay, I will,” I said. We both knew I wouldn’t.
“Gotta go.”
“Okay, byeeeee, I love youuuuuu!” I sang, and Ronni hung up.
The coffee shop was mostly empty when I arrived, so when I walked in the door Dee saw me right away.
“Q!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come here!”
I grinned and rushed over to give her a hug across the cafe counter.
“How’ve you been?” I asked.
“Good, good. Happy to see you.” She gave me a concerned-mom look. I recognized it not from my own mother, who had treated me like an adult since I was six years old, but from TV. “How you holding up?”
“Much better,” I chirped, lying. “Jamie’s meeting me here.”
“Oh, girl.” Dee sighed.
“What? God! We’re just gonna do homework!”
“All right.” She shook her head. “Just don’t do the endless-processing thing, okay? A dyke can lose years off her life that way.”
Dyke. I still got a little thrill whenever she said it. To Dee and Gaby, Jamie and I were baby dykes. To us, according to them, they were dusty dykes, old-fashioned and just plain old. To hear them tell it, you’d think no one had ever