I was disappointed, and a little hurt. Except there were extra pages behind the letter—regular notebook paper, so I knew it wasn’t another collage or anything. It looked like all the pages, the short letter and the others behind it, had been ripped out of the same notebook.
Maybe she wrote the other letter after mine, and she meant to put them in different envelopes. Except the second letter was addressed to Harvey.
Was Tammy writing to Harvey Milk? That made even less sense.
But it’s what she wrote that was strangest of all.
She wrote about kissing another girl.
It was a long letter, about her kissing a girl, and being really, really, really happy about it.
She wrote about me, too. She said my letters were all she had to look forward to…until now.
I think—oh, my gosh…
I think Tammy might be gay.
If it’s true, it means she’s been lying to me all along. Though I guess I’ve been lying to her, too.
How can she be? Her family’s so into church. She lives in Orange County. She goes to a Christian school!
Though I guess my brother goes to church and to Catholic school, too, and he’s gay.
All this time that we’ve been writing to each other, I thought she was normal. It’s normal to be straight, isn’t it?
Maybe I’ve been wrong about that, too.
Oh, my gosh. I’m so freaked out right now.
Am I supposed to write back? Does she even know she sent this to me? It’s addressed to Harvey.
Maybe she did send it on purpose. Maybe she wanted to freak me out, but…why? She wouldn’t want me to know, not unless this really is some kind of trick.
I just don’t think she’d do that.
Peter could help me figure this out. Or Kevin. Well, but I couldn’t tell Kevin about Tammy, not about this…
I do want to see him, though.
Yeah. That’s what I’ll do.
He’s working tonight, but I’ll go meet him when he gets off. Then I won’t have to feel this way. When I’m with Kevin, things feel normal and safe, and that’s what I need right now.
Okay. I’ve got a plan, at least.
More later.
Yours, Sharon
Saturday, November 12, 1977
Oh, shit, Harvey.
Wait. Let me rephrase that.
OH, SHIT, HARVEY!!!!
I can’t find the last letter I wrote you.
The one about that night at the golf course and Carolyn and—
OH, SHIT, OH, SHIT, OH, SHIT!
It was here on my desk, and I went to bed because it was the middle of the night and I was drunk and I left it there and—
Did someone find it? Did my mother find it????
Okay. Okay. I have to figure this out. I can’t lose it until I’ve figured out what happened. I need a plan. Some kind of plan.
What the fuck is wrong with me????
Okay, no. Breathe. Breathe. Think.
It was on the desk. What else did I do on that desk?
I wrote a letter to you before I left for the party. I tore the pages out of my notebook and put them in my purse, where I keep all the things I can’t risk anyone finding.
I went through every scrap of paper in my purse, Harvey. The letter I wrote after I came back that night is most definitely not there. It isn’t anywhere.
Okay. Okay. Thinking. Thinking. What else did I do? I wrote a letter to Sharon, a short one, right before I left. I wrote it in the same notebook as usual, and I tore it out and put it in an envelope and addressed it, and—
Wait. Shit. No. I didn’t.
I was running late and I had to do my makeup. I left Sharon’s letter in my notebook to deal with after I got back.