a lot.And it’s not just Kevin, either. When Peter dragged me to see Star Wars for the third time, I spent the whole night imagining making out with Han Solo in the Millennium Falcon when it made the jump to light speed.
I wouldn’t feel that way if I was gay. Right?
Except…what if this was why I didn’t understand all those songs about love?
A set of headlights swept across my eyes. I held up my arm in front of my face, blocking the light. It was the bus heading back downtown.
I didn’t think anymore. I ran. When the bus slowed down at the stop by the end of the block, I jumped onto the bottom step.
I had to get out of that place. I had to get somewhere I could really think.
But thinking is all I’ve been doing since I got home, and I’m not any closer to understanding what happened outside that club than I was the first moment I saw that poster tonight.
Yours, Sharon
Tuesday, May 23, 1978
Dear Diary,
Well, now I’m even more confused.
We lost again tonight. Anita Bryant and her people have been going from place to place, getting cities to overturn their gay rights laws. They already won in Kansas and Minnesota, and this time it was Eugene, Oregon.
There have been marches in the Castro after every vote. Peter and I were driving back from the Eugene march tonight, both of us depressed, when I asked him.
I don’t know why I did it then, of all times. Maybe I was too upset to think clearly. Maybe I just couldn’t stand to keep it inside one more second. Maybe both.
“So, um…” I swallowed. “Something happened.”
“Yeah?” He sounded tired. Too tired for this conversation. “What?”
“Um, well…” I didn’t know where to start. I was starting to realize this was probably a bad idea.
Things have been strained between Peter and me. He finally accepted my apology for telling Tammy about him, but I don’t think he believed me when I said she wasn’t as upset about it as he was. He was adamant that I didn’t understand—that I couldn’t.
“Are you going to tell me what it was?” he asked. A Journey song came on the radio, and he leaned down to hit Play on the tape deck. The opening notes of the Ziggy Stardust album tinkled out. That was always our favorite when we were kids. “I’m kind of exhausted.”
“Yeah. Um.” I shut my eyes and tried to focus on the music. “I… I think I might like a girl.”
The car lurched.
“Asshole!” shouted a guy from the right lane.
“Oh, my gosh!” I grabbed the dashboard. “What was that?”
My brother jerked the car back into the lane. “That was me reacting to you! What in Christ’s name are you doing, saying that shit while I’m driving?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to kill us!”
“Are you seriously telling me you’re gay?”
“No. No! I don’t know. I don’t know what it means.”
Peter glanced at me. For a second I thought he was going to steer the car into traffic again, but his eyes slid back to the road. “Is this why you’ve been hanging out with those girls at that bookstore?”
“No. I wanted to help with the Prop 6 campaign.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look at me this time.
“Look, I don’t know if I really like her. I thought I did, once, but it probably didn’t mean anything.”
When I shut my eyes, I could see the picture of Midge perfectly, as though I was back outside the club all over again, but when I opened them, I was feeling too many things to sort them all out.
“Shar?” Peter’s voice dropped as he glanced over at me. “It’s okay if you’re gay.”
“I’m not.” I shook my head, my back still turned. I was seconds from crying. “I’m with Kevin, remember?”
“Having a boyfriend doesn’t make you straight. Plenty of people live totally straight lives, but