how I’m going to sleep tonight with her only a few feet away. I guess I’ll have to just shut my eyes, put the pillow over my head, and try to pretend things are normal.
Except—let’s be honest, Harvey. There’s nothing normal about any of this.
Peace, Tammy
Saturday, June 17, 1978
Dear Diary,
It’s been more than two weeks since I last wrote here, but it feels like a million years. My last entry was the day Tammy came to San Francisco. So much has happened I haven’t had a second to write since then, but I’m hiding from Tammy now, and I have the whole night. Maybe I’ll understand this better after I’ve got it down on paper.
It started when Kevin came over for dinner tonight.
“I figured out how to do it, in the end,” Tammy was saying with a grin. Kevin, Mom, and even Peter and I were bent over our spaghetti in hysterics. Tammy was telling us a story about how Rosa had taught her how to use a mop, and I don’t know if it was as funny when it was happening as it was when she described it after the fact, but either way, Tammy’s an excellent storyteller. It’s no wonder I enjoyed her letters so much. “The mouse who was responsible for that mess is on my takedown list for life.”
“Its life, or yours?” I asked.
She laughed. “Whichever ends first.”
“The mouse is toast. Don’t worry.” Peter wiped his eyes. “The other day I had to repack five deliveries because of turds in the bags. Next time I see the tiniest flick of a brown tail, I’m grabbing Javi’s cleaver.”
“Language, please, Peter,” Mom said, but she was laughing, too.
“Sorry, Mom.”
“I think my roommate’s got a switchblade.” Kevin grinned at Tammy. Tonight was the first time they’d met—she’s been working a ton of hours to earn as much as cash as possible, so we haven’t had time to do many fun things yet—but they were already acting like old friends. “If you want to dispatch it with something stealthier.”
“If you saw me with that mop today, you wouldn’t make that offer.” Tammy climbed to her feet and reached for Kevin’s empty plate. “I’d probably wind up stabbing myself.”
“Sharon, help her clear the table,” Mom said. “Despite our guest’s eagerness to lend a hand, I do expect my own children to wash dishes on occasion.”
“Can we do the rest of the cleanup after we get back tonight?” I bent down to collect the water glasses.
Mom frowned. “Remind me where you’re all going on a weeknight, again?”
I took a deep breath, preparing for another lie. It’s getting harder to keep up with all our stories. Fortunately, Peter jumped in. “It’s summer, Mom! No school, remember? We’re going over to Kevin’s to watch the Giants game.”
Mom didn’t smile. I wonder if she suspected something was up, since neither of us have ever gone out of our way to watch baseball before, but she didn’t argue. “Well, be back before it gets too late. You’ve got work tomorrow, all of you.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you.” Peter kissed her on the cheek. Mom smiled, and I wondered how many extra lies Peter had bought us with that move.
Our actual plans had nothing to do with the Giants. Kevin had to study for a big exam for his summer course, but he was giving Peter, Sharon, and me a ride north first. Peter was going to visit his friends in the Castro, and since Tammy finally had a night off, I was taking her to the bookstore. She was nervous about meeting other lesbians for the first time, but it was an official volunteer night—we were putting together a big mailing to Fresno—and this way we could keep busy if Tammy was too anxious to talk much. Plus, it would be her first chance to work on mailings that didn’t include cartoons about gay people being demons.
Tammy’s quickly become part of our family routine, and Mom seems to have accepted that she isn’t going back to Ocean Valley anytime soon. She’s called the number Tammy gave her a