Sookie, I had a kindred spirit and a partner in crime—someone interested in the same type of guys as me. I never had to explain what I felt to her, she just got it. And like Ray, we shared a love of being anywhere but Pleasanton. Going to clubs with her, we met more and more people, and my world expanded beyond high school.
WHEN RAY GRADUATED, HE WORKED AT A MARIE CALLENDER’S RESTAURANT the summer before college. My girlfriends and I would go in for discounted meals and talk about where we’d go after. Ray was always talking about going to San Francisco, to this one place where he really loved the food. He said he’d get an omelet.
It just became a joke. “Oh, Ray’s going to San Francisco for eggs.” It never occurred to us—or it never occurred to me—that he was going to be with his community.
That was also the summer of “Ray’s Fake ID.” Ray and Sook had an older brother, Sam, who looked exactly like him, so he’d borrow his license. Anyone throwing a party knew to call Ray to get booze. It was always all love at the beginning of the party, but once people started drinking, the fag jokes would start.
“Sweet Ray, Ray-Gay . . .”
One time I was sitting on the curb at a party, wearing overalls and my high-tech boots. I was finishing off a forty of Mickey’s big mouth, and some kids started in calling Ray a faggot. He didn’t say a word, letting it pass. I began to see red.
I broke my forty on the curb and turned it toward the whole crowd.
“He’s not a fucking faggot!” I screamed. “He is not a fucking faggot!”
I was threatening an entire party because I didn’t want Ray to be other. I would have cut somebody. My friends grabbed me and drove away with me still screaming.
I wish I could say that I was protecting Ray. I was protecting me. I already felt like an outsider, and I had run a shell game on all these people to fit in. I could not allow people to point out another way in which someone close to me was “other.” In trying to control the situation, I was unconsciously trying to control Ray.
I WENT TO THE UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA FOR MY FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE. While I was home for Christmas break we all had a huge party at a girlfriend’s house. We trashed the place, so when we woke up the next morning we set about cleaning up. I was in the living room doing as good a job with a broom as my hangover would allow. I noticed that everyone was acting cagey with me.
“What is going on?” I asked.
“Ray, just tell her,” someone finally said. “Just tell her.”
Ray sat me down on the couch.
“Nickie, I’m gay,” he said.
“Really?” I started crying. “Who knows?”
“Everyone.”
“Everyone?” I said. “Ray, I am your best friend.”
Everyone knew but me. He was taking them to gay clubs and opening them up to new worlds. And nobody could have open conversations about this around me, least of all Ray. People just got sick of it.
He took a deep breath, and his tone became angry.
“Do you know how many times I have listened to you say ‘faggot’ or ‘fag’? Now, think of all the times you’ve complained to me about people saying ‘nigger’ or talking shit about black people. You were so fucking comfortable using the same language, and you were too selfish to know you were hurting me. You were breaking my heart every time.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, bawling now.
“Yes, you are my best friend,” he said, beginning to cry, too. “And I felt like I couldn’t share it with you because you were so committed to being ignorant so you could fit in with these motherfuckers. Was it worth it, Nickie?”
I’ve never been more disappointed in myself. I’d humiliated myself with my ignorance, and in the process hurt one of the people closest to me. It was devastating.
Again and again, I told him I was sorry, and when he hugged me I melted into him on the couch.
“You know when would have been a good time to tell me you’re gay?” I said. “That time when I took on the whole party, asshole.”
We both burst out laughing. About the lengths I had gone to to protect my notion of his heterosexuality. I was too busy protecting our spots on a Jenga tower of assimilationist bullshit to be the