9:12 P.M.
My phone was on the entire time Nan was laying down the heat. I can’t believe Lola missed this whole thing. While I didn’t get Nan’s face on-screen dishing out drunken threats, I did get her voice loud and clear going dark and nasty on me. And thank God I did because Lola would never believe me otherwise. I hurriedly tap an L to pull up my contacts list and shoot Lola the video file on the down low. When complaining about Nan, Lola has sometimes said I’m justused to Dr. Pearson, who was always sweet on me. Lola assumes any woman who goes into education is way, way too compassionate, kind, and hell-bent on improving the world. Present company excluded.
While Aunt Viv is showing her framed letter of recognition to another flock of admirers, Ty startles me by putting his hand firmly on my back to steer me someplace out of the fray. All I can think about is what bothers Nan more: me being black or me being female? Or is it the combo that has sent her over the edge? Where is Lola and why is Nan such a ghastly drunk? AND WHERE IS LOLA?
“I’m so happy to see Aunt Viv enjoying herself tonight, but what’s up with your boss?” Ty says, leading me past the dessert table.
“Long story, but short version is she hates women.”
“Ouch. I want more on that later. Right now I need to talk to you.” Dr. Golden has no idea what just transpired, nor the fact that my interest in hearing anything he has to say is zilch. I want to hunt down Meredith and hopefully come across Lola on my witch-seeking mission, but Ty body blocks my path and steers me deep into a quiet corner. This night has become an utter disaster, what a waste of a good dress and spectacular shoes. Let’s get it over with, Golden Boy so Etta, Aunt Viv, and I can go home, wake up tomorrow, and escape to New York for a few days. Right now, San Francisco is not big enough for Nan Gooding and me.
“What is it, Ty? What’s so important? Are you and Daniel separating? In the throes of an ugly divorce? If so, I’m very sorry for you two, I really am, but I’m in the middle of a serious professional soap opera.” I shake my head, annoyed. Honestly I have no extra emotional energy for another person.
“Josie...” Big pause...
“What, Ty? Say it. You agreed to be Aunt Viv’s date tonight because you’re worried a divorce will harm Gracie’s chance of getting into Fairchild? Is that right? You want a special favor like every other just-shy-of-certifiable, playground gossiping, manipulative parent inSan Francisco? Is that what you want—a guarantee for Gracie?” Ty shakes his head no. Okay, maybe that was a little harsh, particularly if he’s nursing a broken heart. Clearly my anger is unsure where to land.
“No? So, what then—Aunt Viv has a serious heart condition and you picked this inopportune moment to tell me? You could have asked me to make an appointment for Aunt Viv. Jesus, say what you came here to say so we can get on with it and end this disaster of a night. I’m so tired. Nan is pissed at me. I’m probably going to lose my job, and I have to get on a plane tomorrow and pretend to be excited for Etta to visit a college that costs upward of 70K a year for my brilliant daughter to dance around half naked.” At this moment my life feels like an endless game of not getting what I want, and I’m done with losing. “Please, out with it so I can find Lola, Aunt Viv, and Etta and bring this night to a close.”
“I’m not gay.”
TWENTY-FIVE
“Say WHAT?”
“I’m not gay. In fact, I’m the opposite of gay. And I like you. I mean I like, like you.”
I stand in silence. My nineteen-year-old resting bitch face is back. “What?!?!”
“I’m saying I like you, Josie. I think you rock.” Ty’s face lights up in a huge grin, an adolescent twinkle in his eyes.
“I told you never to say that.”
“I know you did, but it’s true. I’m hoping you heard me say I’m not gay.”
I’m in such a state of disbelief, my mind is stuttering. Words fail me momentarily and my jaw drops wide enough to catch flies. My stomach is cartwheeling like a second-grade girl at recess: Is it the fried plantains or maybe the ceviche turned at the buffet? I know it’s neither. This is a reaction to Ty’s big fat lie, or perhaps an inkling of excitement over his out of the blue admission.
“Is that why you and Daniel are getting a divorce, you’ve decided you’re not gay? Is that possible? Did I make you not gay? I’ve heard ofsupposedly straight husbands coming out to their wives, but I’ve never heard of it happening the other way around.”
“No, no, no, Daniel and I aren’t getting divorced—”
“And you ‘like, like’ me?” I interrupt. “Are we in eighth grade and you’re about to hand me a note asking me to markyesornoif I like you back?”
“Well, we are currently standing in a school. And while the note thing is not a half bad idea, what I want to know is: Did you hear me say I’m not gay? Yes or no?”
“I don’t understand. You’renotgay. But I never once caught you checking me out.”
“Oh, trust me, I was checking you out, even in those ratty sweats you were sporting when I came over for the house call. Maybe you just weren’t paying attention, you know, since you thought I was gay and all. Do you really think I have time to make house calls to every single one of my patients? I made a house call to get to see you.”
“Are you sure you aren’t confusing needing a beard with liking me? ’Cause if you need one I’m already spoken for. Roan and I have mad gay man–straight woman love.”
Ty shakes his head no. “I look terrible with a beard.”
“So, you’re talking man-woman um, like? The opposite of what you and Daniel got going on.” I need to get myself really clear on what he’s sayin’.
“Yes... I’m talking man-woman like. Glad to know you’ve heard of it.”
“So then, are you bi? Cis? Pan? Trans? Fluid? What have I forgotten that you can possibly be that might explain the past six months? Wait, does Daniel know I’m the reason your family is breaking up?” I don’t know what universe I’m existing in because it sure isn’t the one called my reality that I left back at the apartment a few hours ago.
