LGBT Stories

Chapter 1

At the botanical garden, Johanna takes a picture of a
purple orchid growing out of water. From the green stem rising
out of the stream, spiked, purple petals emerge, some reaching
for the sun and others towards the banks. In the centre the
flower is yellow. She knows that if she could see further into
the swamp, the roots would touch the ground. The flower blooms
from soil and water into the sunlight. Johanna wants
desperately to take the rare flower back to her lover but she
believes in the balance of nature and does not want to up-root
either one.

She hates computers but loves what they can do. She sits,
as if in her father’s arms, in the large leather chair in his
study. She uses his computer to magically send two of the
pictures she has taken today to Leslie. The second one was
taken when she arrived home from the garden: a plaid skirt lying
on her bed.

The saleswoman watched her suspiciously as she took the
skirt out of the store, knowing it was much too small for
Johanna. But apparently that was the point.

Johanna smiles when she thinks about the look she will see
on Leslie’s face. In twenty minutes Leslie will be there,
adding herself to Johanna’s day of beauty.

Johanna is seventeen years old. The camera now sitting in
her father’s study, beside the computer, is brand new. The one
that uses film is in her closet. But unlike the clothes it
shares the space with it is now covered in dust from not being
used.

As she sends the flower she remembers the first picture she
ever took of Leslie; the one protected in a plastic sleeve
inside her leather journal–Leslie dressed in a yellow shirt and
faded blue jeans. The picture was taken two years ago while
Leslie was painting. Joanna took it from behind the painting,
capturing her friend’s concentration. The visual representation
of life: a passion shared by both girls.

A light, summer breeze blows through her open window and
caresses her almost naked body. She lies on her bed wearing
only the skirt, which is much too short.

Leslie. Johanna always knows it is her by the short, brown
hair. With no brushing or gel or mousse or spray her hair is
always magnificent. Her hair and her eyes and Johanna’s eyes
all match the plaid skirt.

She strips slowly and then jumps onto the bed, placing her
hand on Johanna’s thigh. She moves it higher, discovering that
there is no underwear. The realization excites her even more.
Then the girls kiss–quickly, lightly–smiling into each other’s
eyes when they are finished. They do not need to speak to each
other. Leslie pulls off the skirt.

Johanna spreads her legs to allow Leslie’s fingers inside.
With her other hand Leslie touches Johanna’s right breast, her
nipples now hard: a woman’s erection. She does not let it go
even after Johanna has had an orgasm. She continues to hold it,
the softness of the skin mixed with the hard nipple in her hand,
Johanna’s tongue in her mouth.

Out of the corner of her eye Johanna sees a felt flower
sewn to the knapsack Leslie has left on her floor. It is purple
with a yellow centre. An arts and crafts project from the first
grade; from a time they did not know each other.

Johanna’s fingers enter warm, moist flesh. She does not
have to think about where to put them or how to move them. The
pattern of Leslie’s breathing changes, matching the rhythm of
the movement of the fingers inside of her.

She notices that Leslie has stopped smiling so with her
fingers she touches Leslie’s lips. The petals of her mouth.
They kiss each other passionately during the second explosion.

*

At thirteen she was headlong into puberty. It was at this
age that she began to discover her body–her emerging breasts,
widening hips, and increasingly sensitive vagina; this area
between her legs that at times she could barely stand to touch
because of the intensity of the pleasure, especially when she
was thinking about boys. And then it happened.

He was five years older, out with his friends and drunk.
She never remembered how many people there were but the sounds
of their voices never left her mind. What she remembered
clearly was the boy who did it first–him she would never
forget. He smelled of sweat mixed with cologne mixed with soap,
like her father after a shower, but the boy’s smell was
stronger; it was painful. She wasn’t ready when he entered her
so forcefully. All it took was a moment to rip out her
innocence.

By the time the second one was inside her she had closed
her eyes and her mind. She could not get rid of the pain and
humiliation; she got comfort only from the fact that she
couldn’t see or smell or hear what was going on around her; what
was happening inside her.

They left her where they had found her. She was walking
her dog, one street away from her own house in a quiet, sub-
urban neighbourhood, though it was not quiet that night. She
walked home slowly, crying, only to find a police car in her
driveway. Her parents had become worried when the dog ran home
without her.

She entered the house quietly, a beautiful thirteen year
old girl with long, flowing blonde hair and bright, hazel eyes.
The dog, a large, black Labrador, ran up to her. He had been
trained not to jump on her but he stretched his neck, reaching
as high as he could to lick her face. He tasted the salt of her
tears and backed off, the dog confused from the taste that he
has never before tasted on his best friend.

Johanna collapsed on the floor, throwing her arms around
the dog’s neck, burying her head into the muscles above his arm,
savouring the familiar smell of his fur and the unconditional
love she needed at that moment more than ever before.

Her mother saw her first. The moment she looked into her
daughter’s eyes she began to cry. She knew exactly what had
happened. She could see the hurt and pain and confusion in the
eyes of the one and only child she and her husband had been
blessed with.

But it was her father Johanna needed. He put his hand
gently on her back while she hugged her mother, but she shrugged
away the touch. For two days she couldn’t even look at him.
The sight and smell of him disgusted her, made her want to
vomit.

Three days later she came to him. He was in the large
leather chair in his study. He put down his pen when he saw her
and gave her a half smile, not knowing what to say to the girl
he loved so much, the one he so desperately wanted to hold. She
burst into tears when she saw him, running up to him and
throwing herself at him. With her arms around his neck she
heard him start to cry as he held her.

“I’m sorry daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you.” She
started crying as she said these words, her guilt at having hurt
her father stronger than anything else.

“No sweetheart,” he replied, “you don’t have to be sorry.
You don’t have to be sorry.” The sound of his voice and the
smell of his aftershave made her sit on his lap, his strong arms
around her. When she was little she would sit like this, on his
lap, him watching her solve a Rubik’s Cube or share a piece of
chocolate from his desk before dinner.
She lifted the Rubik’s cube from his desk, the one she had
solved that he kept beside him whenever he was working. She
looked at all the sides, the perfection of the colours. As she
sat in her father’s arms she began twisting the cube, jumbling
up the squares, trying to bring order back into her life.

Chapter 2

The first day of school. It is a day to receive schedules
and see friends that have been lost during the summer, but it
also marks the end of the summer that Johanna and Leslie spent
together.

They are lined up in the school gymnasium, around the edge
of which tables have been set up, prefects sitting behind them,
finding and distributing everybody’s schedules.

Neither of them looks at the papers they now hold. They
leave the crowded gymnasium as soon as possible and find a
secluded spot to look at their lives–so neatly printed on
clean, white paper with black ink–for the next ten months.

Most of their classes are together. Leslie looks around
quickly before kissing Johanna on the cheek, celebrating the
fact that their classes will not separate them.

To the world they are best friends. To Johanna’s parents,
to Leslie’s parents, to their teachers and classmates and
friends. And to Jonathan, who they have not seen for the
summer.

The girls have to attend their first classes without each
other. Johanna walks into her English class, where her teacher
Mrs. Walker is in the middle of a conversation with another
student.

“Johanna!” Her name is the first thing she hears when she
walks into the room, spoken with a smooth, masculine voice; a
slightly foreign accent. Her name rolls off his tongue like
honey. Ever since her parents told her why they gave it to her
she has treasured it; ever since the first time he heard it he
has loved it. Whenever she introduces herself she says her name
slowly, clearly, so that there are no mistakes.

Her father wanted Jordan: a name for his son. But when he
got a daughter instead, he realized the name would work just as
well. Her mother wanted Hanna, a soft, elegant name. She is an
equal product of her two parents.

Johanna turns slightly to the left and she sees him sitting
on top of his desk, his legs resting on the chair, talking to
the person behind him. But now he has turned around. He is
darker than she remembers him, and taller. His dark blue eyes
have not changed, nor have the light brown curls on top of his
head, though they are longer now than when she last saw him.

“Jonathan,” she repeats, smiling and walking over to him.
They do not hug, as most of the class is seated inside the room.
She takes his hand into hers for a brief moment; a small squeeze
before she lets go. “How was the trip?”

“It was amazing! I saw everything–Paris, Rome, Italy–
well those are the places I enjoyed the most. How are you
doing?”

“I’m fine.” Mrs. Walker is ready to start the class. She
has taught most of them before in their first year of high
school.

Johanna smiles at him before she takes the empty seat
beside him. Halfway through the class she sees his arm reach
across to leave a folded piece of lined paper in front of her.
She opens it immediately. Meet me in front of the library
immediately after last period.

He has used an entire piece of binder paper for this note.
She unfolds it completely, turning the page in her binder on
which she is writing notes and placing it immediately after.
His note now part of her curriculum.

She doesn’t see him waiting but suddenly someone has thrown
their arms around her, hugging her tightly, her name on the
person’s lips. Instinctively she pushes, hard, and Jonathan
goes flying into the locker behind him. Until she sees it’s
him, Johanna has an angry look on her face. Leslie is with
them, and the three friends suddenly look embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry Jonathan! You scared me!” Johanna says. He
looks surprised but he laughs it off. He greets Leslie, much
more formally but it is still friendly.

He asks if they need rides home, but Leslie tells him that
she now has a car.

“Great!” is his response. “Well how about I drive Johanna
then?” Johanna looks at Leslie and shrugs.

“I’ll call you later,” Johanna tells her.

The first time she shoved him was over her name. They had
known each other for almost a year when one day he came up to
her and said, “how’s it going Jo?”

She then said her name, Johanna, with a sword like
sharpness, cutting through his attempt to become more familiar
with her. “It’s Johanna,” she said again afterwards, the same
sharpness in her voice but this time with more softness. She
glared at him until she saw the pain in his eyes.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Johanna. I’m sorry.” She
glared at him some more before she walked away. It was nearing
the end of the tenth grade. Her and Leslie had not yet figured
out their feelings for each other and were just friends. She
did not see Jonathan that summer either.

“You wanna grab a burger or something?” he asks her
casually, his right arm stretched out, holding the top of the
steering wheel. She can see the tenseness in his muscles, can
sense the false indifference in his voice.

“Sure,” she says. He makes a quick turn and in minutes
they are inside a restaurant, ordering burgers, fries and sodas.
It is a mock 50s diner–table-cloths with red and white squares,
licence plates on the walls and teenagers kissing their
boyfriends and girlfriends. Jonathan and Johanna are sitting
across each other in a booth when their food arrives.

He eats a fry before saying: I saw some of the most
beautiful things in the world when I was in Europe this summer,
and I still thought about you every day.

“That’s nice,” she replies flippantly. She lifts her
burger and takes a large bite, looking around the diner,
pretending he did not say anything of importance. “I thought
about you too,” she adds, smiling in the friendliest way she
knows how so that he knows they do not mean the same thing.

“Umm, Johanna, that’s not what I meant.” She puts down her
burger and wipes her mouth.

“I know what you meant. I’ve told you this before–”

“Yes, before. What about now?”

“I told you Jonathan, I can’t.” He told her once to call
him John, or Johnny, whichever she preferred, but after he tried
to call her Jo she was never able; never saw it as fair. She
knows this isn’t fair either, not telling him why she keeps
refusing to date him.

She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he
takes a bite of his burger.

In his car in her driveway, he puts his arm around her
shoulders and leans over to kiss her cheek. She loves the way
he kisses her. He always does it slowly, and very gently. An
unassuming kiss that makes her feel loved. “It really was nice
to see you again.”

“You too Jonathan. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He
removes his arm and she gets out of his car. Before she reaches
her front door she turns around to wave and to smile. She hears
his car backing out of the driveway as she closes her front
door.

*

The Labrador’s name was Fred. Sometimes, when her parents
saw her playing with him, they would start to sing, together,
the song that went “We’re having fun, sitting in the back seat,
kissing and hugging with Fred, the dog.” She expects him to
come bounding up to her every time she comes home but right now
the house is empty. Her parents are at work and Fred is in the
backyard–a small, homemade monument to him sticking out of the
dirt in one of the corners.

Her after-school routine has always been to have a quick
snack and then get right to her homework. She would do it with
her father, in his study, which she enters now. Ever since she
was old enough to be at home on her own she would still come
there to study, though the room would be empty. When she was
little there was a wooden table and a small chair facing her
father’s desk. The table and chair are still there, neatly
tucked away in the corner.

She sits in her father’s large, leather chair–the chair in
which she always felt the most secure because he would always be
in it with her. Since she was thirteen years old he was the
only man she ever trusted. Since it was just the first day she
has no homework to do, so instead she pulls a book off her
father’s shelf and reads in his lap until her parents get home.

*

She has never given anybody everything. The first person,
other than her parents, who she ever became close with was
Leslie. With her best friend she shared what she had to deal
with going through puberty; she shared the fact that she didn’t
find herself at all attracted to boys. And then she shared her
heart on a rainy afternoon, in Leslie’s bedroom. They were
sitting on Leslie’s bed, listening to a new CD, when she leaned
forwards and kissed her best friend on the lips. It was quick
and prudent; the girls were fifteen.

Leslie doesn’t know about the rape.

It was hard for her to accept Jonathan as a friend, but he
persisted. He did not persist because he wanted to date her but
because he truly cared for her. He valued every moment he was
able to spend with her.

She told him about the rape.

It had crept into her mind one evening and she needed to
talk to somebody about it. She hated bringing it up with her
parents because they would get upset right along with her. She
knew he would too, but when she told him they were both still
kids, and he had no way of comprehending what she was going
through. For her, his reaction was perfect: he remained
absolutely silent. Jonathan was uncomfortable, not knowing what
to say so he said nothing. But she could see that he was
listening, trying to understand something that could only be
understood if it was experienced. They were in Jonathan’s
living room, the television off. After she told him she picked
up the remote, turned it on, and leaned against his shoulder
while they watched music videos.

Jonathan doesn’t know that she’s a lesbian.

Chapter 3

She thinks of him sometimes, when she is alone. Like
tonight. She has finished dinner with her parents and is
soaking in her tub, the bubbles making her smell like vanilla
and a hot cup of tea beside her. These are pleasures she
doesn’t have time for in the morning, so she takes advantage of
the time she has in the evenings to indulge herself. It is the
warmth that she wants and needs, the comforting heat of the
water and the tea.

She wonders about him. She knows that she loves him but
there is no attraction, no desire to be closer to him than she
is. But she wonders: If she wasn’t a lesbian, what would happen
with him? Would they be having sex? She allows Leslie, another
woman, to penetrate her–but would she allow the same thing from
a boy?

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to him. She knows what it must
feel like for him to not have his feelings reciprocated; to
constantly have to put in vast amounts of effort just to spend a
little bit of time with her, time during which she remains as
distant as she can, not wanting to give him the wrong impression
or allow him to get any closer. This is not the first time she
has said this to him, but she has never said it when he is
there.

In his own home Jonathan sits on a couch, his older brother
and younger sister in the same room. Together they’re playing
Monopoly. The three siblings spending time together is a very
rare occurrence. But he asked them for this. After seeing
Johanna he always needed a distraction so that he wouldn’t have
to endure the pain that came with thinking about her too much.

“Have you ever wanted to give up?” he asks Brian when his
sister leaves the room to get herself a drink.

“Give up what?”

“Whatever. Anything. Something you’ve been working
towards that’s probably never going to happen. A girl.”

“Of course I have. What could be easier? Spend a bit of
time getting over her and then move on. But you won’t end up
with her if you do that. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When we slept in the same room last week because of the
renovations, you said her name in your sleep, a lot. I don’t
think you should give that up.” Brian gives his brother a
friendly pat on the back before their sister returns, ready to
finish the game.

*

A small room full of books. The English department’s book
room needs to be organized. There are books in the wrong
places, stacks of them on the floors and in boxes. Mrs. Walker
wants volunteers. Johanna’s hand goes up in the air and
Jonathan’s follows reluctantly. Mrs. Walker smiles. “I’m sure
Leslie will help too,” Johanna says.

“Why’s he here?” Leslie whispers in Johanna’s ear. Johanna
shrugs.

“He volunteered. And since when don’t you like having him
around?”

“It’s not that. I just though we could have been alone in
a small room together for a few hours.” She has a mischievous
smile on her face, which leaves when Jonathan walks over to them
carrying a box.

“These go on the shelf right above you,” he says. Together
the three of them begin to unload books. Jonathan squeezes
himself in between the two girls to do it. “I almost forgot!
You know that Egyptian wing in the museum that’s supposed to
open next week? My uncle said he could get me in this weekend.
It’s all set up, and it’s there for the people who worked on it
to see. And since you like taking pictures and stuff, I thought
it might be nice to see when it’s not crowded. We can go at
night, when nobody else will be there.” Johanna stops what
she’s doing to look at him, deciding whether or not to take him
up on his offer. She glances at Leslie. “And you too of
course,” Jonathan says, turning towards Leslie. “Wouldn’t be
any fun without you.” He laughs. “And they have some pretty
neat stuff from what I’ve been told.”

“It’ll give me a good opportunity to use my new camera,”
Johanna says.

“You got a new camera?”

“Yeah, it’s digital. The pictures so far have come out
well.”

“That’s awesome. How about I pick you up at six? We could
all have dinner and then go. Leslie you’re in right?”

“Six sounds good,” she says.

“Great.”

An hour later Leslie says she’s going to get some sodas.
Instead of offering to go for her, Jonathan quickly takes out
his wallet and gives her some money. She refuses to take it
from him, as they are friends, but he insists and she leaves the
room.

“Finally!” Jonathan says as soon as the door shuts behind
Leslie. “I need to ask you something Johanna.”

“The answer is no.”

“Not that. I need to know how you feel about me Johanna.
Whatever it is, I just need to know.”

“You know Jonathan.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know because your dick does all your thinking
for you! If, for even one minute, you could get past trying to
see me, I wouldn’t need to tell you. If you’ve ever paid any
attention to me, you would know.”

They hear the click of the door. Leslie has returned with
the sodas, which she hands to them. They sit down on boxes to
drink them, a silent break. After they have started again he
asks Johanna if he can see her alone for a moment.

“What do you want now?” she asks harshly when they are in
the hallway.

“One evening. Just one evening and I’ll never bring it up
again. Find some way to get rid of Leslie on Saturday, spend
the time with me, alone.”

“No.”

He grabs her arms firmly, holding her, looking into her
eyes.

“Why not?” he asks. His hold on her arm isn’t violent, it
is desperate. When he touched her just now, her first thought
was to hurt him back, but something freezes her to the spot.
His eyes. Inside them she doesn’t see blue or black or white.
She sees desperation, longing, love.

“I’ll give you Saturday,” she says softly. “Jonathan you
don’t want to know why I keep saying no. But, if you won’t take
my word for it, I’ll tell you on Saturday if you ask. I’ll get
rid of Leslie too. Okay?” He let’s go of her arms, saying a
soft thank-you. They return to the books and in thirty minutes
they are finished.

She calls her parents from the restaurant and tells them
she will not be home for dinner. As soon as she ends the call
she tells Leslie: he’s in love with me. He’s never said it but
I can tell. All he’s ever asked is that I go on a date with him
and every time I’ve told him that I can’t. But I can’t do that
to him anymore. He asked me for just one evening and an
explanation and I said I would give him Saturday. I told him
that he doesn’t want to know the reason but if he asks me again
on the weekend I’ll tell him. I have to tell him if he wants to
know. He’s earned that much.

“And you have absolutely no feelings for him?”

“None whatsoever.”

Leslie nods and takes a sip of her water.

The girls have agreed never to share their secret. They
are not naive enough to believe that the world they live in–
their families and classmates and friends–will accept who they
are, or understand what they share.

Leslie has also seen the look in Jonathan’s eyes; has
noticed the way he acts around the woman they both love. She
doesn’t want their secret to get out but she knows there is no
other option.

“Well, I guess, if you really have to tell him.”

Johanna smiles.

“Thank-you.”

*

On Wednesday after school, Johanna and Leslie sit in the
bleachers, overlooking the school’s soccer field. There are few
people there. It is not a game but a practice. Many of the
players’ girlfriends are there, but Leslie and Johanna are there
for Jonathan, something they have been doing with him since they
met him in the tenth grade.

The sun is out. The grass is a bright green from the blend
of sun and rain it received during the summer.

It was the middle of the year and they had nothing better
to do. This was the time Johanna and Leslie were nothing more
than best friends and future lovers, though they did not know it
yet.

They stayed behind on the bleachers, after the game was
over. They had started a conversation during the game that was
not yet over. They sat and talked as all of the players left,
as the other spectators left, until they were alone. The sun
had almost abandoned them. It was not yet shining on the moon
but it had turned the sky a bright pink. It was a beautiful
evening.

They did not even notice the silence around them until they
heard voices on the field. There were five people, probably
from the team. They had run out onto the field, one person in
the lead. But suddenly four of them caught up with him, and he
disappeared.

The girls heard various swears and screams; they knew
immediately what was happening. “Come on, let’s go!” Leslie
yelled urgently, jumping up and running through the bleachers,
trying to get to them. She did not think about the fact that
four boys in the middle of something like this may not look
kindly upon being interrupted, least of all by a girl.

There was nobody behind her. Johanna was frozen to her
seat, watching the circle of boys with wide, fearful eyes. The
feeling in her stomach was that of absolute terror. A gang of
boys. She was turning pale, her arms holding tightly onto the
bench she was sitting on. She started to shake, and did not
move from her seat until she saw Leslie in front of her, running
up to the group, yelling something at them.

“No Leslie! They’ll hurt you!” Johanna said quietly,
thinking she was yelling but unable to produce more than a
whisper.

Two minutes later the boys were gone and Johanna could see
only Leslie, leaning over something. The boy in the lead.
Leslie told her later that she threatened to call the principal.
One of the boys told Leslie they’d do the same to her if she
said anything to anybody, but they were just boys and much too
scared of what would happen to them for what they were doing.
Finally one of them had said, “I think we’ve done enough guys,
let’s just leave him with his girlfriend.” Leslie stood there,
her head high in the air as the four boys walked by her, each
one insulting her in some filthy way before walking off. The
moment they were behind her she swooped down over Jonathan.

There wasn’t very much light so she could not really see
what they had done to him. “Are you okay?” was the first thing
she said. He groaned and nodded slightly. “Do you think you
can stand up?” She took his arm and helped him. It was painful
but he managed to stand; nothing was broken.

Leslie led him into the front hallway of the school, where
there was still light. She knew she didn’t want to look at him,
and managed to avoid seeing his face as she propped him up on
the floor against a wall and said she was going to get help.

Moments later Johanna opened the front door to the school
and saw him sitting, in obvious pain, on the floor against the
wall. He had bruises and sweat all over his face. There was
not a lot of blood and his shirt was ripped in various places.
His jeans were dirty but seemed not to have suffered any damage.

Johanna knelt down beside him and held his wrists, staring
into his closed eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Painfully, the boy opened his
eyes. They were blue. She smiled at him, told him that it was
okay, that she was a friend. Despite the pain in his face he
smiled back, suddenly unable to close his eyes again.

Leslie returned, recoiling when she saw the shape his face
was in. “There’s nobody here,” she said quickly. “I think we
should call the cops.” The boy groaned no.

“I’m okay,” he said painfully. “No cops. Just give me a
few minutes.” Leslie sighed, stood up and walked away again.
Johanna lifted the backpack she had brought with her, and put it
beside him.

“What’s your name?” she asked him as she lowered his head
and put her knapsack behind it for him to use as a pillow.

“Jonathan,” he said slowly, a small rasp in his voice.

“I’m Johanna,” she said, making sure not to stop smiling.
Leslie was back suddenly, with wet paper towels from the
washroom. Johanna took them from her and began lightly dabbing
his face. When she was finished, she began to feel his body–
first lightly squeezing different parts of his arm and then
applying small amounts of pressure to various parts of his chest
and stomach, making sure nothing was broken. She didn’t really
know what she was doing; she didn’t know how to tell but she
figured if something was broken she would know.

The damp cloths seemed to have revived him, and he sat up.
His eyes were still open and he stared at Johanna. “Thanks,” he
said, forcing himself to smile. He turned and looked at Leslie.
“I’m okay guys. Thanks.” The girls giggled because he called
them “guys”. He stood up, the kneeling girls doing the same
thing.

They walked him home. “It’s gonna be fun explaining this
to my parents,” he said when they were standing outside his
front door. Johanna caressed his arm before they said goodbye.

Two days later he saw them walking home from school. He
jogged up to them, walking between them. “Hey!” he said
enthusiastically. He looked much better. The bruises were
still there but he seemed happy. The girls’ pace slowed as he
started talking to them.

“Listen,” he said. “I know this is kind of lame, but I
wanted some way to say thanks for–” He stopped walking and
began rummaging around in his jacket pockets. He found what he
was looking for.

“Friendship bracelets!” Leslie exclaimed.

“That’s so sweet!” Johanna said with just as much
enthusiasm. Jonathan was looking embarrassed, so the girls,
simultaneously, kissed the two sides of his cheeks, causing him
to turn a very bright red.

He scores a spectacular goal and Leslie and Johanna cheer
louder than anybody else. When he hears them he looks up at
them. They are far away from him but they know he’s smiling at
them. Johanna and Leslie’s minds, at the same time, jump back
to the day before. Leslie, who was more upset about the
situation than she let on, turns to her lover and realizes why
he must feel the way he does about Johanna. Johanna, who for
two years has managed to keep this secret from him, begins to
hope he will not ask her to reveal it, even though she knows
it’s best for him to find out.

Chapter 4

The boy in him makes him use her new camera more than she
does. It is one of those cameras with lots of features that can
be used with the touch of a button. He is not very interested
in photography but it is the technology that fascinates him; how
the simple pressing of buttons can allow the camera to take
intricately detailed pictures in any light.

There is nobody there except them. He knows the wing very
well; he has spent a lot of time with his uncle over the past
few weeks. He knows where the switches are and he has lit up
the entire wing for her. Treasures of Pharaohs are all around
them; valuable mummies and jars representing a past life.

“What kind of boy your age likes museums so much?” The
excitement on his face is apparent as he plays with the camera,
navigating the menus and learning the various things it can do,
and then enthusiastically taking pictures of whatever it is they
are standing beside.

He stops. He gives her back her camera.

“People actually carved these things by hand. Do you know
how long it takes just to carve a nose? You’d be amazed at the
amount of dedication that goes into these. I’ve had feelings
for you for years, and no matter how many times you’ve turned me
down I kept on trying. I’m still trying. Sometimes I think
that if I keep trying one day it will happen. Other times I
think that it will never happen. I know that nothing will come
out of this, but I still don’t think I’m wasting my time.”

“Now you’re sure it will never happen?”

“Yes. Because there’s this reason of yours you promised to
tell me tonight. I assume it’s a good one. We can look at the
rest of the exhibit or you can tell me now. It’s your choice.”

It was a few weeks after it happened. They never brought
it up with him, not wanting him to tell them if he really didn’t
want to. But out of the blue he said: It was a stupid fight.

“We were all in the shower and the four of them were making
fun of me. They’re buddies all of them, really close too. And
they do it to everybody, but they had been picking on me a lot
more. The easiest way to handle them was just to ignore them
but I was getting sick of them so I started to fight back. Just
insulting them back you know?

“So we got dressed. And then they threatened to kill me.
Of course I didn’t take it seriously–and they weren’t serious
either, but they were in one of those moods that makes people do
stupid things. But when I saw that they were ready to do
something, I ran. I mean, four on one. My pride couldn’t even
justify that. They were calling me things like faggot and cock-
sucker–a real wide variety of insults–you heard some of it
Leslie didn’t you? While they were beating the shit out of me?
I was suddenly scared.”

There is a pause while he swallows, though he swallows
nothing because his mouth is dry.

“When they started I figured they’d work on me a bit and
then leave it. But something about the way they were saying
what they were saying; the way they were hitting me; I thought
they wouldn’t stop.”

Jonathan turned away from the girls, not wanting them to
see the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“They’re dicks and everybody knows it. It all happened
just because I wouldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. All I really
had to do was put up with their shit for another week. It
wouldn’t have taken them much longer than that to give up on me
and start on somebody else.”

Johanna handed him a tissue to tell him that it was okay
that he was crying in front of them. Leslie offered to take
them all out for ice cream.

“I don’t want to tell you at all.”

“Then answer the question I asked you in the book-room.
Tell me how you feel about me.”

Johanna does not need to think about this, she knows, and
she decides to tell him this if she can get away without telling
him anything else. “I love everything about you Jonathan.
Especially how cute you are when you pout. But my feelings for
you don’t go beyond friendship. I’m not even attracted to you.”

She turns away from him to give him time to think about
what she has just told him. She does not want to hear what he’s
about to tell her because no matter what he says she will hear
the pain in his voice. She knows how much she has just hurt
him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. The first time she has said
this when he is in front of her. She turns around to see what
he’s doing. He is looking away from her, at a duplicate of a
mummy.

“It’s amazing,” he says, “how much we know about this
civilization. They lived so long ago. But you’re right here.
You’ve been right here for two years and I know so little about
you.”

“What are you talking about? We know a lot about each
other.”

“If you were seeing somebody I would understand. I know
your feelings for me aren’t the same as mine for you; I figured
you weren’t attracted to me, though I didn’t know that for sure
until now. I guess that was just wishful thinking. But one
date. Why won’t you do even that?

“No, wait, don’t answer that. I shouldn’t push you to tell
me this. If you don’t want to tell me, I guess it’s your
decision to make.

“Get your camera ready. There’s some really neat stuff we
haven’t seen.”

She invites him inside when they get back to her place.
There’s some ice cream in the freezer, she tells him.

It is still early and her parents are awake, watching
television. She enters the living room.

“Did you have a good time?” her mother asks. Jonathan
appears in the doorway. He says an awkward hello and Johanna
realizes she has never introduced him to her parents. They have
been friends for so long and he has never met her parents,
though she has met his many times.

“Mom, dad, this is Jonathan.” They stand to greet him.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Johanna’s father says,
shaking his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” She is
embarrassed that he has not yet seen them, not even the inside
of her house. She never felt comfortable inviting him inside.
I know so little about you.

They sit quietly in the kitchen, eating ice cream. It is
too cold to be one of her favourite desserts, though she enjoys
it more with hot pie.

“Are you okay?” she asks him as soon as they have finished.
It is the first thing they have said to each other since they
started eating.

“Yes. Thank-you. So I’ll see you in school tomorrow?”

“I’m going to walk you out,” she says with a smile.

*

“I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t, I don’t know why. I just
told him that I didn’t have the same feelings for him; that I
wasn’t attracted to him. And then I said sorry. I really hurt
him by saying that. I know I didn’t have a choice but it was
still hard.”

“At least you were honest with him,” Leslie says. “Is he
okay?”

He says he is. He isn’t though. He’s a guy^O-you know
he’ll never admit it.

“Just give him some time. It’ll be okay.”

I know. Are you tired Leslie? I was wondering if you
wanted to come over.

Soon, they will have two images of the orchid. Leslie
printed the picture Johanna sent her just days before and
brought it with her, along with a canvas and paints.

She sits on Johanna’s chair, her canvas and the print in
front of her.

Leslie lives for details. She sees details before she sees
the bigger picture. This is reflected in her paintings. No
detail of anything she paints is overlooked. She has started
with the yellow centre and will work her way outwards. A tiny
drop of water on the top-right edge of the flower will become
the focal point of the painting.

Johanna sits on her bed. “Tell me what happened tonight,”
Leslie says to her as she dabs the yellow. Johanna loves
watching her paint. Though Leslie’s eyes do not stray even for
brief moments, Johanna knows that the details she will give her
friend will be remembered long after the painting.

Leslie’s arm becomes tired when the centre is finished.
She joins Johanna on the bed. Leslie kisses her tentatively,
not knowing if her lover is in the mood. But she is.

They strip. It is easier this way, both of them naked.
They are both tired so there is no more talking; no foreplay.
They kiss, spreading their legs and entering each other with
their fingers as they do so. They move at the same speed, with
the same rhythm. They were amazed when their periods began to
come at the same time.

The feeling of being inside somebody is comforting to
Johanna. She soaks up Leslie’s warmth–the heat of her body and
the warmth of her come–the same way she soaks up her love. She
prefers sex when they do not say “I love you” before. The
silent words mean so much more to her when she can feel them in
Leslie’s touch.

Chapter 5

When he sees his brother that evening, he says to him: I
have to give up on this one. At this point I’ve really done all
I can.

*

It was a gift from her mother; a woman who knew what it was
like to grow up as a girl. She understood the need for somebody
to talk to and the privacy a girl wanted. She bought her
daughter a diary. It was leather-bound; refillable with no
lock. Still Johanna left it everywhere in the house. She would
always find it where she wrote last. More often than not it was
in her father’s study, the space in the house she loved the
most.

He liked seeing her in there. Whether he was with her or
not he liked it when she was in his room with the large, wooden
furniture. It was a room of books and computers and plants and
love between a father and a daughter. He too understood the
privacy of a diary. Even if she left it in the middle of his
desk, he would not touch it. He would work around the book he
knew contained his daughter’s soul; the smell from the worn
leather making him remember her. It is because of this that
Johanna feels secure leaving it anywhere.

He has her to himself for one evening a week. Every year
since she started high school Leslie has been involved in an art
club who met with the same frequency. This year it’s on
Thursdays.

Johanna and Jonathan are in an almost deserted, dark
theatre; a comedy playing on the screen. But she isn’t
laughing. She’s barely paying attention to the movie because
Jonathan is beside her. Since Saturday he really has given up.
He hasn’t said anything to her about them seeing each other;
about his feelings for her. This change hasn’t brought about
the relief she thought it would.

She misses it–the attention he would give her; the
satisfaction she gets from knowing that she is desirable to men.
And he would only do it when Leslie wasn’t with them. This
private desire of his was comforting to her whenever she was
with him. But today he has said nothing; he has been acting
like they are friends and neither has any feelings for the
other.

Johanna takes his arm into hers and leans her head on his
shoulder to watch the rest of the movie. He pretends to ignore
this and laughs louder than he normally would have at the next
joke.

She brings him inside with her, insisting he stay for
dinner. Her mother sees him and begins to say the same thing;
Jonathan cannot refuse.

The paint on her bedroom wall is lilac, her bed spread only
slightly darker to provide a contrast. He lifts something
beside the lamp on her bedside table, a blue and white bracelet,
made out of plastic.

“You keep this here,” he whispers.

“Pardon?” She is on the other side of the room, looking
for a picture she took once that she wants to show him. He
replaces the bracelet. His legs and breathing have become
heavy. He is staring down at her bed, his eyes fixed on one of
the flowers of the pattern. It is an elegant, flowing design;
the purple flower unmoving. If he concentrates on it hard
enough he can stop himself from crying.

“Here it is!” she exclaims. She rushes over to him, an
open photo album in her hands. “When I was little, my dad
bought a new camera just in time for my birthday. I was so
fascinated with it that I barely let him take anything with it
because all I wanted to do was play with it. This is the first
picture I ever took.”

She sits on her bed and he sits beside her. She passes the
album gently into his lap and places her finger over the
picture. Then she removes it. Her mother, half-turned in the
doorway to their kitchen. Johanna’s mother’s profile, parts of
it silhouetted and other parts–like the white of her shirt and
the black of her hair–in vibrant colour. The outline of this
woman can be seen perfectly. There is nothing in the picture
except her. The wood of the door frame is concealed in shadows;
because of the angle nothing past her mother can be seen.

“She looks just like you. Not just in this picture. Has
anybody told you that?”

“Nobody’s seen this picture since it was developed. When I
was little I looked a lot more like my father. Now I’m looking
like her more and more.”

Before he leaves she tells him that he should come over
more often.

“My parents love you, we live pretty close to each other–
Jonathan I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For this. For never asking you over before. I don’t know
why I never did; you must have thought of me as such a …”

“No. Johanna I never have. It never mattered to me. The
important thing has always been to see you.”

*

You’re not a virgin. Johanna you told me you were a
virgin. I’m sorry to wreck the mood like this but, believe me,
I can tell that you’re not a virgin.

The first time they were together they weren’t naked. They
were both dressed in short skirts and t-shirts, their underwear
on the floor. Leslie was going first, Johanna’s legs spread and
Leslie’s arm in between them concealed by the skirt.

Johanna was at a loss for words. Finally, she said: You’re
the first, Leslie. Trust me.

And then a kiss. For the first time in her life she was
pleasured by another person, Leslie’s fingers deep inside her,
caressing the most sensitive area of her body. Her heart
started to beat faster; she was feeling absolute ecstasy.
Especially when she came. The feeling of the orgasm combined
with the look of excitement on Leslie’s face was almost more
than she could handle.

Halloween night. The day was fitting: it was cloudy and
windy; trees swaying and occasional drops of flying rain making
it down from the sky. Now, in the evening, Johanna, Leslie and
Jonathan sit in his living room. They have rented two scary
movies. The kind that teenagers laugh at because they know it
is fake. The blood doesn’t look real; the stories are
nonsensical; but on this night especially they are fun to watch.

Jonathan is in the middle; the girls on either side of him.
The lights are off and the volume is loud. One of his team
mates is throwing a party tonight, one he decided not to go to
so he could spend time with the girls.

Leslie excuses herself. She picks up her purse from the
floor beside the couch and takes it with her. Quickly she
hurries up the stairs. All of the doors on the top floor are
shut, she doesn’t know where to go. She goes up to the closest
one and presses her ear against the door. Music. There’s
someone inside, probably his sister.

The next door is silent. She turns the knob slowly and
pushes it. She peers into absolute darkness, and slips inside.
She turns on the light and knows immediately she is in the right
place. This is the bedroom of a teenaged boy: the bed is un-
made; clothes are lying all over the floor. His knapsack leans
against his desk, not having been opened at all that evening.
Halloween is not a night for doing homework.

She walks up to his desk. The leather book she took
earlier from Johanna’s bedroom comes out of her purse and lands
on it, beside his keyboard.

Leslie has always known about the diary but has never read
it. Until now she has always respected her lover’s privacy but
she needs Jonathan to know. She loves him as her friend and
will not lose Johanna as a lover; so she wants his feelings for
Johanna destroyed. She is sure that this will do it. She is
absolutely convinced that he is like everybody else, that he
will not accept them for who they really are.

She returns and he smiles at her when she sits. This is
the best way, she thinks. She will talk to him tomorrow, first
thing in the morning, and get Johanna’s diary back to her before
it is missed.

She was sitting in her car on her way to pick up Johanna.
He’s a boy, she thought. Seventeen years old, still playing
soccer with the team that beat the shit out of him two years
ago. He’s our friend because of what we did for him; we have
his respect only because of that. He is not going to be pleased
when he finds out we’re lesbians. He won’t tolerate it, in
fact. Johanna will be crushed if she loses him. It’s best that
it happens now, while I’m here for her, in case he decides to be
a prick about it.

Jonathan goes up to his bedroom after they leave. It is
late and he has to wake up early for school. He shuts his door
and strips down to his boxers. He goes over to his computer to
turn it off when he sees the book. “What’s this?” he says out
loud, confused. He forgets about the computer and lifts it up.
The book is heavier than it looks; the leather cover is worn,
multitudes of cracks running through it. He runs his finger
along the spine as he opens it. He knows immediately what it
is. He knows her writing and he reads the date at the top of
the first page. “When the fuck did she leave this here?” he
asks out loud again.

He sits on his bed, his legs stretched out in front of him,
one of his ankles resting on the other. He knows this is his
only chance to find out whatever it is she wants to tell him.
Jonathan begins to read her soul.

Chapter 6

Leslie stands at his locker, waiting for him to come. He
doesn’t show up. Fifteen minutes into her first class she gives
up, hoping she will see him later.

He has been reading almost the whole night. He slept
through his alarm and he woke up at one in the afternoon, his
curls messy; his eyes dark, tired; his hand resting on leather.
He picks up the book beside him and throws it, hard, against the
opposing wall. Jonathan glances at the clock beside him; if he
leaves now he can still make his English class.

He is a few minutes late. Johanna looks up when he walks
into the room and smiles at him. He glares at her in return and
takes his seat.

“What’s the matter?” she whispers to him.

“I can’t believe you need to ask me,” he says. They cannot
finish the discussion during class. When it is over he gets up
quickly and leaves the room. He stands just outside the door,
waiting for Johanna to come out. When she does, he shoves her
diary in her hands. “Two fucking years of my asking you out;
you couldn’t have told me any of those times. You couldn’t even
tell me in person, you left this in my fucking house instead.”

He walks away. Johanna has not even looked at what he put
in her hands. She nearly drops it when her eyes land on it, the
surprise of this object being in her hands overwhelming.

How did it get here?

*

Leslie picks up her phone quickly that evening, knowing who
it is. She does not say hi. She knows they had a class
together today; she knows that Johanna left school without her.

“I thought he should know. This was the only way I thought
of to tell him. Johanna I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was
thinking.”

“Have you read it?” is all she can ask.

“No. I didn’t. I just wanted him to find out, that was
all. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him and you obviously
couldn’t either and I thought this would be the best–”

“He doesn’t know it was you who gave it to him. He’s mad
at me for doing it. He’s angry with me for something I haven’t
done; for something I wouldn’t have done in a million years. I
hope you’re planning to do something about this.” Click. She
hangs up the phone and steps into the shower. Her anger for
Leslie is overwhelming. She never thought she could hate
someone so much. Later, she will realize that this hate comes
from the amount of love she has for Leslie.

When she was little her mother took her to an amusement
park. Together, at the ring toss, they won a large, stuffed
bear. The brown animal sits beside her bed. Now, when she
comes out of the shower, her bathroom full of steam and her skin
glistening, wearing only panties she sits on her bed, hugging
the bear tightly against herself. She needed the warmth from
the shower because she could not get it from Leslie.

Whenever she was upset she would find Fred and sit with
him, resting a hand or an arm on his stomach, feeling his
breathing. He loved this sort of company, especially when he
was older. He wanted to play less but he still loved her; he
needed her as much as she needed her parents. The bear has
taken his place.

She tries to make herself cry but she can’t. She isn’t
sad. She knows that her anger towards Leslie is temporary. But
Jonathan–he knows everything. It doesn’t bother her so much
that he knows she is a lesbian but he knows much more than that.
He knows every detail of her life that she felt was worth
writing down. And now he’s upset with her. She wants to
confirm this; she wants to have a conversation with him to see
how he feels. But she knows that if she picks up the phone and
dials his number that he will not say more than two words to
her.

At dinner, her mother immediately notices her mood, knows
what she is feeling.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” she asks.

“My friends are idiots,” Leslie replies.

“Just remember, they’re still your friends,” her mother
says. Words of wisdom. Her father lifts up the jug of water
and refills her glass. She smiles at him. From him she can get
silent understanding; from her mother she gets advice. She
takes a sip of water.

“I know mom. It’ll be okay. Let’s just talk about
something else.”

She turns towards her bedside table to turn out the light
when she sees her diary sitting beside it, the smooth parts of
the leather shining under the bulb.

He’s not talking to me, she thinks. For the first time
since she has known Jonathan she knows that he actually doesn’t
want to see her; or hear her voice or even think about her.
This is why she does not tell anybody everything; this is why
she has secrets, why she has thoughts and feelings that belong
only to her and the pages in her book. She pushes it forcefully
away from her, off the table, and it slides off the end of the
desk. The sound it makes when it hits the hardwood floor is no
match for the force with which it was pushed.

Now she starts to cry because she has lost Jonathan.

Johanna asked him once if he was embarrassed. When he
asked what for, she said: “Well, a girl sticking up for you. I
mean Leslie told four guys to fuck off when they were picking on
you, and they did. Most guys would have been embarrassed.”

“I don’t know what got into those guys that night. There
was no fairness in it; it wasn’t just them fooling around. If
it had been, I would have been really embarrassed. But they
weren’t fucking around and I’ve always been very, very thankful
that she came to help.”

She touched, lightly, a bruise on his cheek bone. “Does it
still hurt?” He nodded. The bruise didn’t feel like anything;
it felt like the rest of his face, like bare skin. She did not
know why she needed to touch it. But there was something about
his face that bothered her: there were no indications of facial
hair; no moles or dimples or any other marks. There were small
imperfections but she found that to see them she had to be
extremely close to him. There was no after-shave or cologne.
The bruise gave it colour; a personality. Something to touch,
though it ended up feeling just like everything else.

“What did your parents say when they saw your face?”

“I told them it was dark and that I had no idea who did
it.”

“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell somebody;
get them kicked off the team or something.”

“They’re good players. And they left me alone after that,
like I knew they would. What would have been the point of
getting them pissed off at me again?”

There was one more hole in the story he had given them.

“I was also wondering … what exactly did you say to them
to get them so angry?”

“I was alone in the locker room with them. Everybody had
already gone; they weren’t letting me leave. Nobody did
anything about it because nobody wanted to piss them off. You
saw them, they’re big guys. They had obviously gotten tired of
just calling me a faggot so they told me they would fuck me up
if I didn’t admit it. So I did, just to get them to let me
leave. That’s when I saw the look on their faces. After I told
them that I was gay; that’s when I actually got scared. That’s
when I ran.”

“What the fuck is wrong with people? What does being gay
have to do with anything? I mean–say you really were–you’re
not are you?”

“No.”

“Okay. Say you were though. What difference would it
make? You’d still be here with me, sitting in McDonald’s and
eating shitty burgers. You would still have ketchup on your
cheek.” She reaches over with her napkin to wipe it off for
him.

“Thank-you,” he says.

“You’re welcome sweetie.”

She never would have called him that if she knew then how
he felt about her. At that moment, he was just a boy with an
innocent face on which he had spilt a little bit of sauce. She
did not know how he felt about her because he did not know. He
enjoyed spending time with her; he got knots in his stomach when
he knew he would be seeing her; but the realization that he had
feelings for this beautiful girl had not yet hit him. But when
it did, all he could do was smile.

This is the friend she has lost. The friend who loves her
so much–not because she helped take care of him when he needed
it–but because he is able to talk to her about anything, even
uncomfortable subjects, without the slightest bit of discomfort.
Because there is a connection between them that neither of them
thinks they will ever understand.

Chapter 7

The tension is hard on everybody. It is hard for Johanna
to be in class with Leslie. She wants so much to talk to her
but refuses to do so until Leslie has straightened everything
out with Jonathan. The Jonathan who, now, will not even look at
her.

This is why Johanna kept secrets; why she would not allow
Jonathan or Leslie to know everything about her. Now Jonathan
knows everything about her, even things she would never have
told anybody (regardless of who it was), and he is no longer
there for her. The security she has always felt having him as a
friend has disappeared, and while this causes her to feel some
anger, mostly she is scared.

When Johanna tries to talk to Jonathan she does it slowly
and very gently. She is suddenly intimidated by him. Johanna
knows his face. She knows every curve and the size of every
bone and what every one of his expressions means. And now, when
she says hello to him, the wince on his face is so slight that
only she can see it. It is because of this that she decided
finally to leave him alone. The sound of her voice, or at least
the fact that he forces himself to ignore it, is painful for
him.

She stays at her desk as he leaves class. He has started
doing this quickly so that he doesn’t have to look at her; so
that she does not have the opportunity to communicate with him
either verbally or with her eyes. She watches him hurry out of
the room and when he has left, she turns her eyes upwards and
prays that Leslie is able to get to him quickly.

*

Jonathan took this concealment of such a large part of both
their lives as a betrayal. To him, their friendship means the
world. When he is with them, when he speaks to them, the
feeling of security he gets is unparalleled because he knows
that they really care about him. Though his feelings for
Johanna took a different turn, he loves them equally.

It takes her a week and a half to get him to talk to her,
but even then it’s forced. She has not spoken with Johanna for
a week and a half and she cannot stand this separation. Not
when it’s over something that makes her feel so guilty.

She sits alone for his soccer game and when it is over she
waits by his car, making it impossible for him to ignore her.

They sit inside and he closes the top. He does not start
the engine or turn on the radio. She touches the soft leather
of the seats; she doesn’t know what to say to him.

“Have I ever told you that you’ve got a really nice car?”

“What do you want Leslie?”

“I left the diary on your desk. It wasn’t Johanna.” She
does not look at him. She stares out the window at the large,
brick school in front of them, preferring to be in class than to
have to do this. “She was supposed to tell you that night–the
night you took her to the museum–I don’t know why she didn’t.
I guess I thought this was the best way for you to find out.”

“Well it wasn’t. Are we finished?”

“No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that–it was her
personal … you know what it was; and I had no right to leave
it there. I’m sorry Jonathan.”

“I think you should be saying that to her.”

“Then what the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me alone. So if you could just get
out of my car …”

“Not until you tell me you’re going to talk to her.”

“What?”

“Johanna. I want you to talk to her. None of this is her
fault–”

“This whole thing is her fault. And yours. One of you
could have told me before this. You’ve been seeing each other
forever and neither of you told me. I mean I should have seen
something; noticed something! How could I not have known?”

“We were careful. We didn’t want anybody to know and it
worked. You’re the only one, besides us. And when I say
careful, I mean it. Even God wouldn’t know if he wasn’t, well,
God. You’re an idiot for taking this personally.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself. What difference does it make anyway?”

“It makes a big difference. It’s over between Johanna and
me. It’s completely hopeless. I’ve been trying forever to get
closer to her, and I don’t mean us seeing each other. I mean
just getting to know her better. But there’s so much stuff that
she would never have told me. Important stuff, like the fact
that she’s a lesbian.”

“What if it’s none of your business?”

“I love her! It is my fucking business!”

“What did you say?”

“I love her.” For the first time in their conversation he
turns towards her and looks her in the eye, the proof of his
sincerity.

“I love her too Jonathan. So why aren’t you talking to
her? A funny way to act around someone you feel so strongly
about.”

“And what you did? Is that normal behaviour for a
relationship?”

“No. But we’re not here to talk about me. What’s happened
has happened–it’s up to you how you want to handle it. But
Jonathan we kept this secret from the world, not just from you.
And we didn’t know how you would feel about it. What if you’re
one of those people who thinks we’re fucked up just because
we’re lesbians? You’d be more likely than not to tell other
people, not to mention the fact that you would hate us. We
didn’t want to lose you; and we didn’t want our secret out.

“The reason I finally decided you should know is because I
saw how you felt about Johanna. I know exactly how you feel
because I feel the same way and I know that you would never do
anything to hurt her. But you are. She can’t stand the fact
that you’re angry with her.”

“Tell me Leslie, why you can do something to hurt her. The
diary. You left her fucking diary on my desk, for me to read,
so that I could find out something she obviously didn’t want me
to know. How is that not hurtful?”

“Obviously, it is. I haven’t seen her for a week and a
half because she won’t talk to me. But I’m dealing with the
situation, I haven’t just stopped talking to her. Well, I guess
I’ll let you get home then.”

She leaves his car. He sits inside, the car now sweltering
because of the sun and the closed top and windows. He remains
in the heat, sweat pouring down his forehead, for thirty minutes
before he starts his engine and drives away.

*

She hates waking up covered in sweat because it means she
has just relived the night, when she was thirteen years old,
that changed her life. When she dreams about it she wakes up
wanting to cry from the pain. But she doesn’t because the
feelings in her dream are not real. She begins to cry only when
the memories–more vivid than when she was dreaming–flood her
mind when she is awake. When she is unable to tell herself that
it was just a dream.

But this time she dreamt about something else. Her and
Jonathan and Leslie. They were all in a classroom, none of them
speaking with each other. Until suddenly he threw himself at
her. “I love you Johanna,” he said, his arms holding her
tightly. He pressed his lips up against hers. She resisted his
tongue trying to find its way into her mouth. And then she
pushed as hard as she could, but he did not move. Her strength
was no match.

He gave up on her mouth and moved his lips lower, running
gentle kisses along her shoulder. With her mouth free, Johanna
calls to Leslie for help. But Leslie cannot hear her.
Johanna’s anger towards her best friend and her lover for what
Leslie did blocked her cries for help.

She starts to think of another way to get Jonathan away
from her. But suddenly the urgency for doing this went away.
Though he was holding her and kissing her forcefully, he was
being gentle. He was not hurting her; his kisses were soft and
his hold loving. It was when she began to enjoy his touch that
she woke up.

Covered in sweat, she sits up. She decides immediately
that she has to talk to them–to Leslie, but to Jonathan first.
She has to explain to him that it wasn’t her. And then she has
to forgive Leslie before they drift too far apart.

*

After breakfast on Saturday morning she asks her father for
his car, hoping he will not ask what she needs it for. She does
not want to jinx what she is about to do by telling him that she
is going to see Jonathan. But he is tired this morning. “Spare
keys are where they always are honey,” he says.

It is probably too early to start ringing door bells but
she doesn’t care. She wants desperately for the door to open,
no matter who it is. All she needs is an invitation inside; a
chance to talk to him. It’s his brother.

“Hi Brian, is Jonathan home?” she asks very quickly, trying
to look past him into the house in case Jonathan is there,
passing by the door or heading towards the door or … anywhere
she can see him.

“Umm no,” Brian says. “He left last night for our cottage,
didn’t he tell you he was going?”

“No,” Johanna replies, apparent disappointment in her
voice.

“Would you like the phone number or the directions?” Brian
asks. Johanna looks up at him, surprised at the question. He
is half smiling, his eyes bright. He too has brown hair but it
is not curly. At the moment it is messy. He looks natural. He
looks the way people look when they have gotten out of bed on a
lazy Saturday morning. The colour of Brian’s eyes is the same
as that of his brother. Now he is looking at Johanna with a bit
of concern, knowing that she needs to speak to Jonathan, knowing
that somehow she is the cause of his brother’s sudden decision
to be alone for the weekend.

He is not surprised by Johanna’s answer.

Chapter 8

She likes her father’s car better than her mother’s. It is
a large, dark green Lincoln with black leather seats. Like the
chair in his office, sitting in it is comforting to her. The
car is smooth, safe–it’s his.

She calls her father when she gets on the highway.

“Can I keep it the whole day?”

“Sure.”

She wants the convenience of her own car but hates driving.
She plans to get one only when she really needs one. From her
purse she pulls out her sun glasses. She lowers the window
slightly and turns on the radio. It’s a two-hour drive. She
reclines the seat farther backwards. The car is old, the
leather well worn. She is comfortable, her heart beating like a
jack-hammer, in daddy’s car.

It is almost noon when she pulls up to the cottage. She
recognizes his car immediately. The red convertible, parked
carelessly in the clearing in front of the house. The top is
still down, the car dusty. She imagines him hurriedly leaving
the car, running into the house. From the way he parked she
knows he was in a rush.

She gets out of her car quickly, the need to stretch her
legs removing all of her apprehensions about leaving it. Though
she knows he could see the car if he looks out the window, she
doesn’t feel that he would be able to see her as long as she
stays inside. She is nervous because for the first time since
she has known him there is a certain seriousness about their
relationship that makes her not know what to say to him.
Whenever she has been with him–in person or on the phone–or
even when she thinks of him, she has something to say to him.
Something she wants to tell him or something she wants to know.
But this time there is nothing. All she wants is for everything
to be like it was before, but she doesn’t know how to make that
happen.

She takes two steps further from the comfort of her car,
closer to the front door of the house. The driveway is
surrounded by shrubs; large flower pots sit on the porch.
Johanna steps amongst them as she approaches the door, her heart
missing a beat as she hears the sound of her own knocking. She
does it hard, confidently, knowing that she will not have the
nerve to do it a second time if he has not heard.

She stands absolutely still, staring at the dark, wooden
door, not looking around. When she sees movement she will know
he is there, behind the door, and it will be too late for her to
turn back. In her mind she thinks only about Jonathan, about
what he will think of her having driven for two hours just to
see him.

The look on his face is confusion. “Johanna?” he says.
She nods, ready for anything but this. She wanted a concrete
feeling to emanate from the way he says her name. She wants him
to either be happy or angry or upset to see her, a simple
emotion that she can deal with.

But mostly she wants him to be happy to see her. He is
not–that much is clear–and she doesn’t know what to say to
him.

“You’d better come inside,” he tells her. “I can’t believe
you drove all this way,” he says to her as he leads her into the
house. He takes her into the kitchen where he takes out a
bottle of soda from the fridge and two glasses from the
cupboard. Silently he hands one to her, their eyes meeting as
she takes the cold glass from his hands. Staring into his
glass, Jonathan takes a large sip and puts it down on the
counter. He rests his left arm on the counter beside him.
“What are you doing here?”

She does not sip the drink but it is very warm and she
enjoys the temperature of the glass; the fact that her hand is
now cold while the rest of her body isn’t.

“I, I don’t know. I just can’t stand the fact that you’re
mad at me for something I didn’t even do. Leslie stole it from
me and left it in your house, I would never have shown it to
you.”

“Leslie told me what happened.” He takes another large sip
before putting his glass back on the counter.

“Listen, I came up here to be alone. So if you could
just tell me what you need to tell me–”

“I just drove for two hours to see you and you’re actually
asking me to leave?”

Another sip of soda. “Yes. Is there anything else?”

“What exactly are you angry about?” Though he does not
want to talk to her he cannot resist her. She is there in front
of him, ready to hear anything he has to tell her. So he
speaks.

“It’s me, Johanna. You kept this from me for so long.
We’ve become so close and you couldn’t tell me about this huge
part of your life. What is that supposed to mean to me?”

“It should mean that it’s none of your business.”

“This is exactly the problem. It’s because this is how you
feel about it. If this happened the other way around you would
be just as upset as I am.”

“No I wouldn’t. What you want to tell me or don’t want to
tell me is up to you.”

“Well I would have told you something like this.”

“And I wouldn’t have. And the only thing that should mean
to you is that it isn’t something I want you to know.”

“Why not?”

“Because nobody knows. Leslie and me–we’re the only ones.
And look how you reacted when you found out!”

“I reacted that way because of how I found out, and when I
found out. How long have we known each other?”

“What difference does it make? I’ve known people longer
than I’ve known you and they don’t know.”

“But I love you.” The sweating glass slips out of her hand
and crashes to the floor, the brown soda spilling everywhere,
surrounding her shoes and staining the white, tiled floor.
Jonathan and Johanna are staring at each other, neither of them
caring about the broken glass.

“That’s why you’re upset, isn’t it? It’s because you’ve
been holding on to this hope that someday you’ll have me. But
it’s gone.”

“That’s not why I’m angry.”

“Jonathan I made the decision not to tell you, and I would
still rather you didn’t know. But this is the way things are,
why can’t you just accept it?”

“Why don’t you want me to know?”

“Because of what happened. Because I lost you the moment
you found out.”

“Well I guess you didn’t lose much.”

“Why would you say something like that? You’re the best
friend I’ve ever had. I’ve always been able to count on you,
you’ve always been there when I’ve needed you; you’re the only
person I’ve ever been truly comfortable with.

“I’m sorry that I can’t go out with you but–”

“What does that have to do with this?”

“Because I want to go out with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve wanted to go out with you for ages. I’ve tried to
make myself attracted to you. You have no idea how much I want
a boyfriend. I have Leslie. I love her Jonathan but it’s not
the same. I don’t understand it but I want a boyfriend. I know
I keep saying I’m not attracted to you but I’m not attracted to
men, at all. I still think you’re beautiful, Jonathan.” She
steps out of the puddle of soda, over a large piece of broken
glass and steps up to him. He doesn’t move.

She touches his cheek, just above his jaw. “Your skin and
your hair, your eyes especially. Your lips. They’re
incredible. I can see the beauty in you Jonathan. I don’t
understand what’s holding me back.”

She removes her hand from his cheek. His breathing heavy,
he stares at her. She watches him too, their eyes locked
together, neither of them moving. He wants to step away, to go
somewhere she can’t see him, but he is unable to move.

“You just drove for two hours to see me. Why don’t you
just find out what you need to find out?”

She doesn’t move or speak. But he watches her eyes,
watching for even the slightest change. And then he sees it.
He knows she is about to turn away from him, take a step
backwards. He grabs her arm. Firmly. But gently as well, like
in her dream.

Instead of pulling her towards him he takes a step towards
her and moves his lips closer to hers. He allows his tongue to
brush against her closed lips before wetting his own. He can
feel goose bumps on the arm he is holding. His mouth opens for
her. She is no longer thinking. The feeling in her stomach
governs her next move. She takes his bottom lip into her mouth,
feels his tongue caress hers. There is sudden darkness. There
is no soda spilt on the floor; no cottage around her. No
girlfriend back in the city or nightmares waiting for her to
sleep so they can attack. There is no Jonathan. There are no
lips or tongues. No arms or goose bumps. There is no Johanna.
The darkness is absolute.

The simple pleasure of a kiss.

*

Finally he releases her arm. He looks at her only for a
moment, scared of what she might be thinking; what she might be
feeling.

“I’d better clean that up”, he says, walking past her to
the sink where he picks up a J-cloth. She watches him as he
kneels down, beginning to soak up the spilt liquid.

“I need more Jonathan”, she says. “I need to see more; I
need to taste more. You have no idea how incredible that felt.”

For the first time in a long time she’s thinking straight.
Leslie is no longer a part of her mind. The house she is inside
is no longer frightening; no longer a foreign dwelling belonging
to Jonathan. She feels like she’s home.

Johanna bends over and runs her hand down his stretched
arm. She kisses his arm, just below his shoulder.

“Are you okay with this?” she asks. “Because there’s no
guarantee that anything will change. You’ll probably have me
only this once and never again. Are you okay with this?”

“I don’t know. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doing it because I need to find out. And Jonathan you
want me, and this is the only time you’ll ever have me. I know
it’s not the best reason but–”

“You’ll be betraying Leslie. No matter what comes of it
someone will get hurt. It could be any of the three of us. It
could be all three of us. And at that point there will be no
turning back for us. Once we’ve done it … I don’t have to
tell you Johanna, that we can’t turn back time. But yes: I’m
okay with this.”

She gives him a blank look, and says “Okay” in a very
neutral tone.

“Okay what?”

Chapter 9

The attic is clear of everything except for stacked
canvases leaning against each other, standing against the wall.
The canvases look white. The small amount of light she works
with bounces off them; sunlight and moonlight from the windows
do the same. This white that reflects the light is only there
on one side. The opposite sides of all of these canvases are
covered by some painting or another. A dog or a girl or a
flower or anything she ever felt like painting. Some of them
are Johanna, one of these a nude.

Leslie searches frantically for it. Her canvases are never
touched by her, never turned around. Her paintings are for
herself, except for the select few she has shared with Johanna.
But now all of them get flipped around, most of them thrown
aside, until she finds it.

Johanna knows about the painting but did not pose for it,
nor has she ever seen it. Leslie painted her lover from the
image of Johanna in her mind; from the love in her heart. In
the painting Johanna stands, her hands at her sides, standing at
a slight angle, naked white skin against a black background of
stars. An angel in the night.

She gets no sexual pleasure from the painting. Though
Johanna is naked, inviting breasts calling out to Leslie, Leslie
sees only Johanna’s eyes. The expression on Johanna’s face is
unreadable. It is not sad but it is not happy. There is
seriousness about it but this is not necessarily a bad thing.
As she stares at the painting Leslie picks up the cordless
telephone she has brought with her. She dials the first six
digits of Johanna’s number before she hangs up. Until now she
has been holding the painting up with one hand. She allows it
to fall back against a stack of others and goes to her room to
take a nap.

Of course, she is unable to sleep. How can she, when her
relationship with her first love is over?

*

Around them the room fills with steam; lush, green plants
making it look like a rainforest. An exotic location for their
meeting; for the first time they will truly be together.

In the back of the cottage, in a room of glass surrounded
by trees there is a hot tub. Jonathan and Johanna stand on
opposite sides, both waiting for the other to make the first
move.

Jonathan does it. He allows his bathrobe to fall to the
floor, his red trunks now his only covering. The twilight is
the only reason they can see each other. His body seems smooth
to her, pink nipples and a flat stomach. The hair on his body
is blonde and thin so from the distance she is from him it melts
into his body. The smoothness of skin is something she is used
to from Leslie.

He climbs slowly into the hot, bubbling water. His arms
spread, resting on the sides. He watches.

She lets it fall slowly, the back of the robe tossing her
blonde hair backwards. Her hair is long, graceful. She wears
only panties. Her breasts are round and firm. The curve of her
hips gives a jolt to his erection. She smiles as she puts her
thumbs inside her panties. She pushes them down slowly, turning
to the side as she does so. He watches intently, his breathing
becoming heavier.

In between her legs there is black–small, thin black
hairs. He sees it only for a few moments. She quickly climbs
inside, and wastes no time moving up to him. She is no longer
thinking about his feelings. She wants to explore his body just
as much as he wants hers.

They kiss as she runs her hands up the sides of his legs.
She is surprised when she touches them. Despite the water they
are not smooth. She can feel the hairs on his legs brushing
against her palms. The feeling excites her; she never knew that
legs could feel like this. Her hands never stop, moving under
his shorts, touching the netting underneath. She removes her
lips from his.

“Why are these still on?” she asks him. She starts to kiss
him again. She feels her way around his waist, undoing the knot
of the string of his shorts; loosening the waist band and
Jonathan lifting himself up so she can remove them.

Jonathan reaches out, his hand now inside her thigh. He
moves it upwards quickly, and as she takes him into her hand he
penetrates her with his. He has never done this before but his
instincts are strong. She moves slightly so that his fingers
are positioned properly.

For a few moments they stop kissing and stare into each
other’s eyes. Neither knows what the other is feeling. Neither
knows how to proceed. Until Johanna’s lips once again meet
Jonathan’s. This feeling on his lips tells him everything he
needs.

She squeezes more tightly as she feels his orgasm; seamen
rushing out. “Faster, harder,” she whispers in his ear before
taking his lobe into her mouth. She has never come so quickly
but the surprises of his body–the flat chest and hair on his
legs excited her. She felt two erections: his nipples and his
penis.

When his fingers leave her they are suddenly cold. Though
they are still in the hot water of the tub, he no longer feels
warmth.

He touches her breast and kisses her. His erection has
come back quickly; she feels like she can go all night.

In his bed they can smell each other’s sweat. He tastes
the flesh of her neck as he listens to her moans, his body
moving to the rhythm of their heart beats; his penis inside the
heat of her excitement. He knows she is wet because of him; she
knows he is erect because of her. The shape and texture and
hardness of his penis does something for her she never though
possible. Something she never felt with Leslie. The way their
bodies fit–her breasts against his flat chest, his penis in the
cave of her body, his open mouth on the curve of her neck–is
perfect.

The window is open and they hear the hooting of an owl as
they fall asleep. They both face the moonlight streaming in
through the windows, falling on their naked bodies. They have
not covered themselves with the comforters. She is in his arms;
it is all either of them needs.

*

For an hour he lay in bed thinking before he made his
decision. He decided he shouldn’t be with her. He did not
think about it the night before but he knows that the morning
sun has made a change in her heart.

Jonathan knows how much she loves Leslie, and how much
Leslie loves her. He understands that her feelings for him
exist because of confusion. After what they have done, the pain
he will feel when he finds out that she will not choose him will
ease his guilt about the selfishness of the night before. So
instead of her waking up with him beside her, she smells bacon
frying downstairs.

He turns around when he hears a sound behind him. She is
there, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, dressed in
a pair of his boxer shorts and one of his t-shirts. She smiles
when she sees him. He cannot help but look at her legs–smooth
white skin disappearing under black checkers of his shorts.

One of the sexiest things a woman can wear is boxer shorts.
This is what he thinks when he sees her.

“Are you hungry?” he asks nervously.

“I’m starving,” she says. On the table there are two
plates with omelettes, bacon and toast. Beside them there are
two steaming cups of coffee. They sit beside each other at the
table, staring out into the back of the house through open glass
doors behind the table.

The sun shines brightly and the two teenagers eat heartily,
neither of them able to remember when they last had such a large
appetite.

They ate in silence, which was broken by Jonathan.

“Johanna,” he says, “I love you. Even though I’m about to
lose you, I love you.”

She leans over and kisses him on the cheek, very close to
where his lips end. She walks away to change. He sits outside
on his deck with a cigarette while she leaves. His tears begin
to flow when he returns to his room and sees a pair of black,
chequered shorts lying on his floor.

hapter 10

A fuck. This is what it has taken for Johanna to
completely forgive Leslie. Forgiveness that has come from her
guilt.

In about a month’s time Jonathan will be in his car, a girl
underneath him. She is beautiful and sexy but her body will
never compare to Johanna’s but it is all he has. He fucks her,
hard, as loud rock and roll plays around them. After he comes
he is no longer interested in pursuing this relationship, but he
doesn’t break it off. Slowly they drift apart. He has hurt
this innocent girl but it is a pain she will learn from.

For a month he has not talked to Johanna. He has avoided
her as much as he can at school, and she has not pushed him. He
needed this time to forget about her; to try to get over her.
He discovered, during this time, how lonely he was without her
company. The girl he slept with did not keep him warm at night.

*

For the last time, Johanna feels Leslie inside of her.
Leslie’s fingers the substitute for a penis she will never again
have inside of her. After they have come they lie together,
Leslie breaking the silence.

“I’m leaving.”

“Already? Where do you have to be?”

“Pittsburg. My father got a new job.”

A tear falls on an arm. It doesn’t matter whose tear or
arm.

The swamp is deeper than she imagined and because of this
Johanna has destroyed the roots. Another flower will not grow
in its place, nor will the one she has taken survive for very
long. She doesn’t care because now nature is contemptuous.
Around her three colours display themselves prominently. Green
yellow and red: mould piss and blood. Suddenly she wants to
vomit. The flower in her hand is the only thing safe from the
bile.

She puts it quickly into a plastic bag in her large purse.
Nobody will search her bag. She looks around nervously to make
sure nobody has witnessed her taking the flower. She does not
allow herself to cry until she is back in the car.

Leslie does not question where it came from. She does not
need to question what it is. She carefully pulls off a petal
and encloses it in Joanna’s hand before they kiss. For the last
time. The severed roots of the flower Leslie now holds in her
hands will never heal. The softness of the petal in Johanna’s
hand will not last forever.

*

Jonathan can no longer stay away from her. He needs to
hear her voice, to know that she is still a part of his life.
He knows that she will be alone on Thursday night because it is
the night they have been spending with just each other. During
this period of separation he has never made other plans, and
somehow he knows that she hasn’t either.

He shows up at her door in jeans and a black t-shirt. His
nervousness on his way over made him take off his jacket and he
stood outside in the rain for ten minutes before ringing her
doorbell. The door opens and when Johanna sees him she bursts
into tears and throws her arms around him. He has never been
hugged so tightly by anybody.

Because nobody knew about them, Johanna had nobody to talk
to after she broke up with Leslie. Until tonight she has not
cried about losing Leslie. They both knew that a long distance
relationship would not work. They needed to be physically close
with each other and since this could not happen, they decided to
end it. Johanna explains this to Jonathan outside in the rain,
in the cold. Neither of them is bothered by the weather.

Finally, when they go inside, they sit in Johanna’s bed and
he holds her. It does not matter that they are both wet.
Jonathan knows that she needs this comfort from him. But he
also needs it from her. So he returns to Johanna, with whom he
has a closeness he will never get from anybody else. But there
is no more sex. Jonathan knows he will never have her again.
They return occasionally to his cottage, just to be with each
other.

They do this the first night they have off at the end of
the school year. It is night time, and they do not sleep but
sit up at night watching the moon in each other’s arms,
remembering what they have lost but knowing that they have each
other’s love.

“The future will bring great things, right?” Johanna asks
him after a long silence.

“Of course it will,” is his reply. “If everything is just
supposed to get worse, I never would have met you. I love you.”

“How do you do it Jonathan? How do you sit here with your
arms around me, with the way you feel about me, and be okay?”

This is something that he has never thought about, but he
immediately knows the answer.

“Because I love you. It doesn’t matter that I don’t get
certain things from you because I know that one day I’ll meet
someone who can give that to me. You’re here for a different
reason. I don’t know what it is but I’m glad for it.”

“I love you too Jonathan,” she whispers, looking up at him.
They are both smiling at each other, the moon lighting up their
faces. They fall asleep very quickly in each other’s arms,
under the cover of a summer’s warmth and bright stars and each
other’s love.

The End

———————–

Copyright by Sean Roberts

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 26th, 2007 at 03:58 and is filed under * Bisexual *, High School. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.