Music From Another World - Robin Talley Page 0,118

Mom doesn’t come out of her room much lately unless it’s for work or church. I’ve started eating alone most nights, standing up in the kitchen. I’ve become an expert on stirring Rice-A-Roni.

I waited until I heard movement on the other side of the door. First came rustling sheets, and a minute later, soft footsteps. It was past seven on a school day, but when the door swung open Mom was still in her nightgown, her hair matted to her head. She’s been sleeping later since Peter moved out. “What is it, Sharon?”

I waited to see if she’d notice I was already showered and dressed, and very much not in my Holy Angels uniform, but she just blinked wearily and waited for me to talk.

It’s been hard for her. I know it has. But that doesn’t make what she did okay.

“I have to tell you something.” I bit my lower lip. I’ve started doing that lately. It was something Alex told us at the bookstore—that a tiny bit of pain could help her remember it was worth doing scary things. “Mom…I’m bisexual.”

“No,” she answered instantly. I was fighting to stay calm, not to let myself get overwhelmed by the rush of saying what I’d said, but I knew I needed to listen carefully to my mother’s every word. “No. You aren’t. You don’t understand what that means, Sharon. I know you think you do, growing up in your generation and in this city, but that’s because I haven’t done a better job of showing you and your brother how the world works.”

It was the most I’d heard her say in weeks. I got a strong impression she’d already had this speech prepared.

She knew.

How long? Did she know before I did?

I bit my lip again.

“You’re wrong, Mom.” I took a deep breath to steady myself. “We know how the world works, but that doesn’t change who we are.”

“Stop this.” Mom took a deep breath of her own and turned away. “We’ll be late for school. I’ll drive us today, and then we’ll both come straight home after the final bell so we can discuss this.”

“I’m not going to school today.” I swallowed, then squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “Harvey Milk is debating Senator Briggs near L.A. and a group of us are driving down to hold a rally.”

“You’re doing no such thing.” She spat the words.

“I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’m leaving now.” I took a step backward, then another.

“You are not.” Mom followed me out into the hall, pulling her nightgown tighter around her as I moved toward the stairs. The cords in her neck were straining. “Your brother’s a legal adult, and unfortunately that gives him the right to go where he pleases, but I forbid you to leave this house.”

I started down the stairs.

“Sharon!”

“Goodbye, Mom.” I was already halfway down. “I’ll be back tonight.”

I unlocked the front door and stepped outside, my teeth digging into my lip so hard I tasted blood.

I didn’t look back until I’d shut the door. I waited on the stoop to see if she’d come after me, but I didn’t hear anything. It was a still morning, and the house was dark and quiet.

I took another deep breath. In, out. One more. Then I turned around and started walking, my backpack heavy on my shoulders.

Crap, the bus is stopping. More later.

Yours, Sharon

Friday, September 22, 1978

Dear Harvey,

I can’t believe my life’s turned into what it’s become. Some mornings I wake up and lie in bed staring at the fire escape out past the window curtains and I think, over and over, I’m here.

My life has turned out so much better than I ever imagined it could, Harvey.

Yet…there’s still something missing.

I guess there’s no use dwelling on it. No one gets to have everything they’ve ever wanted.

I just wish I could see her, Harvey. One more time.

Shit, I’ve got to go. Evelyn’s already up and yelling. If