Keeping You a Secret (22 page)

I welcomed the day I could be out and proud like her. Be strong and sure of myself. It’s what attracted me to her in the first place. "Wow, Ceese." I hugged my knees. “I never knew about your role in the lesbigay club. How great it would be for someone who’s going through this to have a person like you. Sort of a counselor, or a mentor.”

Cece's face went white. She closed her eyes and squinched as if in pain. A connection – there had to be one. "Does this have something to do with Joanie?" I asked gently.

Cece fixed her gaze on the wall above my head. At my portrait of her that she’d had framed and hung over the bed. "I told Joanie all of this,” Cece said. "About coming out, being out. I knew how much happier she'd be with herself if she could just break through her fear. And she understood that. She hated the hiding. But she couldn’t come out at school. There was too much to lose. She was this really smart person, like you." Cece's eyes dropped to meet mine. "She had plans for college and she couldn’t take the risk of being expelled. All her friends were there, too, and she didn't know how they’d deal with it. How she’d deal with it if they weren’t supportive. And her parents…” Cece shook her head. "A lot of times we imagine these horrible things will happen when we tell them. And they usually don’t.” 

Yeah, I thought. Then there’s that time they do. I could relate to Joanie’s fear. 

“Over the summer, I persuaded Joanie to transfer to Wash Central where people were more accepting," Cece said. “Finally,
finally
, she decided to do it. But only after she came out to her parents.”

Oh, no, I thought. Did the same thing happen to Joanie? Her parents couldn’t handle it?

“I helped Joanie figure out what to say, how to break it to them. And it went better than she expected. I gave her this brochure for her parents that we keep in the Lesbigay club. It sort of answers the basic questions: Is it my fault? What can I do to help? What questions should I ask my son or daughter? They were shocked, of course. But I think they already suspected. I think parents always know, they just don't want to believe it." Cece's voice changed, "They want to make it as hard on us as possible. It’s such a power trip for them. Anyway,” she shrugged off her rising pique, “Joanie's parents were really cool. I told her they would be. It was obvious they loved her enough.”

A knife pierced my heart.

“Oh, Holland.” Cece rushed to the bed and crawled across the mattress. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that about your mom. I know she loves you.”

“Itʼs okay.” I fended her off with a hand. “I’m all right." Which was a lie and she knew it. 

Cece's shoulders slumped and she twisted around, her back to me. “I would've advised you to do something different with your mom.” She picked at the prom dress. “Maybe write her a letter. Give her time to think about it. The way your mom treated me that day, I knew she’d have a problem.” 

"What do you mean? How did she treat you?” 

“Didn’t you notice?” Cece swiveled her head. “As soon as she saw my shirt she freaked. She wouldn't even let me touch Hannah, like I was a child molester or something.”

"Serious?" 

Cece nodded.

I hadn’t noticed. What was with my mom? Was she a flaming homophobe and I didn’t even know it? “Just finish, Cece. What happened at Wash Central?”

Cece moved from the dress to fondling my ankle chain. "Joanie was like this different person after she came out to her parents. Wild and crazy and happy all the time. Because it’ll do that, holding it in. It’ll made you paranoid and ashamed. Not of being gay, of being such a coward. All you want to do is be honest, be the person you really are.”

I know! I almost shouted. I know.

"I took it slow at first, at Wash Central. Introduced Joanie to a couple of my friends, just so she’d know what it was like being around other gay people. Because it’s fantastic." She smiled over her shoulder at me. “You can talk about things that’re going on in your head and in your life. You can discuss girlfriends and laugh and joke around about sex and stuff. Everybody really liked Joanie, and she liked them and it was all just hunky-dory." Cece scrambled off the bed and charged across the room. "Do we have any coffee?"

“No, we’re out," I told her. “I’m sorry. I meant to stop by the store and get some after school." My mind wasn't exactly on groceries, I didn't add.

"Shit." She slammed the cabinet door over the sink. 

“There's tea –”

"I hate tea. You know that.”

“God."

She whirled around. Her head lolled back and she murmured "Sorry. I'm sorry. It’s just…this next part is hard. I never told anybody, except Mom. I didn’t have to, since all my friends watched it happen." Her voice quavered.

“Come here.” I opened my arms to her. 

"No. Let me get through this." She took a deep breath. "So, Joanie’s like `This is great. Why didn’t I come out before? Lets tell the whole world I’m gay.’”

That sounded familiar. The irony wasn’t lost on me – a lot of similarities between Joanie and me.

“I told the lesbigay club that we were going to be throwing another coming-out party. Which is what we do when a new person joins the community. So we did, and it was awesome. Joanie felt so included and accepted. And I finally had a girlfriend I could eat lunch with and bring to meetings and hold hands with in the hall. Joanie even joined Unity with me so we could be together all the time. Everybody loved Joanie and she loved everybody.” Cece’s eyes went black. “Especially Jenna.”

Oh, my God, no. "Don’t tell me.” 

“I am telling you,” she said flatly. "She loved Jenna.”

The pain in Cece's voice, in her face. “Oh, sweetheart.” 

Tears welled in Cece's eyes. I slid off the bed and went to her. “
I
found Joanie," she whimpered. 

I hugged Cece. 

“
I
loved her. She was
mine
.” Tears gushed from Cece’s eyes. I’d never seen her cry. “Joanie and Jenna. How perfect," she mocked. 

She must've been holding this in for months, the tears just kept coming and coming. She sobbed into my hair, gut-wrenching heaves. I hated that she was crying over Joanie. I hated more how much Joanie had hurt her.

“How can you stand having her in Unity?" I asked. “Seeing her all the time?” 

Cece swiped her nose on her shirt sleeve. “I started Unity. It’s my group. I’m not going to let her steal everything from me. Plus," she sniffled, “Joanie still wants to be friends. I can handle that.”

Cece was strong, stronger than me. I’d kill Joanie.

Cece went into the bathroom and came out with a length of toilet paper. She blew her nose and said, “Joanie got all active in the lesbigay club, too. They elected her president and she got all these people involved in causes, like the AIDS Walk and opening our club to straights, making us a GSA. She even got asked to be on the speakers’ bureau at the Center.”

“God. Talk about feeling betrayed.”

"No shit,” Cece said. “I couldn’t let you come out, Holland. Brandi was already asking about you. And my other friends, it they ever met you…” She paused and inhaled a ragged breath. "I couldn’t let the same thing happen. You were so much like her. I said I was keeping you a secret? Yeah, I was keeping you a secret from them.”

"Oh, Ceese.”

Her eyes pooled again. “You have to hate me," she said. "Coming out is such a personal decision. You're the only one who can make it. The only one who knows when the time is right. Look what I've done to you. I've ruined your life.”

“No.”

"Yes! Can’t you see, I’m the one who betrayed you. I should’ve let you come out. You should've told your friends. Your mom. It should’ve come from you. Not Seth. Not Faith. Not anyone else.”

Okay, she was right about that. I guess I did feel a little betrayed, especially since Cece knew how self-destructive it was to stay in the closet. She wasn't entirely to blame, though. Iʼd agreed to the secret. I’d even used it as an excuse not to tell Mom. “I’m not sure it would've made a difference who told my mom,” I in formed Cece, smoothing her hair back from her wet cheeks.

“It might have, though.” She swallowed hard. “And thatʼs whatʼs tearing me up inside. I made you homeless.” She started to cry again.

I pressed her face between my hands. “Oh, honey. You didn't do that. My mother did. And you didn’t ruin my life." I wiped the tears off her cheeks. “I’m still here, right? I should’ve told you how I was feeling, what was going on. We could've gotten all this out in the open earlier and talked it through. I don’t hate you. I couldn't. In fact, I understand why you did it.”

She blinked up at me. "You do?” 

I nodded. “I’d do anything to keep you, too.” 

She disintegrated in tears again. 

I was so relieved to finally learn the truth. Get all our feelings and fears exposed and deal with them. Cece didn’t seem to share the unburdening. Even after she stopped crying, the guilt in her eyes was torturous. “You say we’re alike, Ceese, but we’re not," I told her. “We’re different people, Joanie and me. I know
I’m
different. Why would I even look at anyone else when you’re all that I’ve been looking for?”

"Oh, God, Holland.” She crushed me in an embrace so hard, she knocked the wind out of me. It made me laugh. Made her laugh, too. 

Then we couldn’t stop laughing. It was wonderful, fantastic. I’d never felt such joy, freedom, and certainty. About me. About her. About us.

Trust. That’s what this was about. If you can’t trust the person you love, you don't have anything.

Cece bought me a T-shirt. It said, NOBODY KNOWS I’M A LESBIAN.

Yeah, I was coming out, but not even
I
had that much courage. Why not make an announcement over the PA? “Attention. We’ve just received official confirmation that Holland Jaeger is a dyke.” No. I wanted to do this my way. One person at a time. Those who needed, and deserved, to be told. 

I called Leah first. “I need to talk to you," I said. "If you’re still talking to me, that is.” 

She didn’t respond. 

I died inside. It was too late. 

"Letʼs meet at the clubhouse.” 

“The wha – oh, okay.” lf I could remember where it was. “When?”

“I’m too busy this week,” she said.

Ow. I deserved that. 

“What about Saturday?” 

“Okay.” Iʼd go crazy waiting until Saturday, but what could I do? I should be thankful she was willing to see me at all. “What time?"

“I don’t know. Around four?” 

"A.M.?"

"Yeah, right. Wear your pj’s and bring a flashlight.” She clucked her tongue. There was a smile in her voice, though.

My heart sang. “l’ll be there.” 

“You promise this time?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I promise. I'll be there.” 

We hung up. Saturday was forever away. I could’t put off Winslow for a whole week. I couldn’t bear living with the knowledge that I'd hurt his feelings, that he basically detested me. Not when I could fex it, make it right. 

Cece helped me compose a letter. I explained to Winslow how I just figured out I was gay and was trying to come to terms with it. That my saying no to him had nothing to do with him or who he was. That I really was flattered he’d asked me to the prom.

I signed it, “Sincerely, Holland (the turkey) Jaeger."

I was petrified to give him the letter. It didn’t help that Cece had warned me, "You never know how people will react.” I thought I knew Winslow, but do you ever really know a person?

The fear was immobilising. Art period was almost over and still the letter lay under my sketchpad. Now or never. Pretending I had to sharpen my pencil, I strolled by Winslow's table up front and dropped the envelope on his pad, then skittered back to my seat.

Cece turned and met my eyes. She pressed a fist to her heart. My heart was pounding in my ears. I watched Winslow open the envelope, pull out the letter, and unfold it. He read it, then refolded it. Stared straight ahead at the white board. He didn’t care. He hated me. Without warning, his chair toppled over, startling everyone. He gathered his stuff together and forged his way to the back of the room, attracting Mackelʼs attention with all the racket. Winslow slid into the seat beside me and said, “Yo.” 

It was the sweetest word I ever heard. "Yo yourself," I replied, my throat constricting. He did a really weird thing then. He looped his long arm around my shoulders and gave them a squeeze. Sort of brotherly. My eyes strayed over to Cece, who’d covered her head on the table with her arms, smothering laughter. 

It was all I could do to contain my own hysteria.

***

Paramount Park used to seem so dark and deep when we were kids. All I saw now were the weeds, the scraggly cottonwoods, the decaying litter caught in the chain-link fence. I'd completely forgotten about this place, our clubhouse.

A brilliant sun cast geometric shadows through the branches as I crunched along the overgrown trail. Trees would be budding soon, I realized. I’d always loved spring. This year's rebirth would be extra special, since it was my rebirth, too. “Knock, knock." I stood underneath our cottonwood, squinting up into the tree house.

A voice floated down, "What’s the secret password?”

"Shit," I muttered. 

“Thatʼs not it."

I grinned and shook my head. 

"You don't remember the secret password?” 

Grabbing a branch, I hoisted myself up and said, “Leah, its been a hundred years?” Another lifetime. I squeezed through the gap around the trunk, vaguely recalling there used to be a door hinged over it. “Is this floor going to hold us?" l stepped gingerly across the wobbly sheet of plywood to the far side, where Leah was sprawled against the wall of our clubhouse, reading from a spiral notebook.

"Remember this?” she asked absently. 

I eased down beside her. The wood cracked and I grabbed hold of her arm to save myself – or take her with me. “What is it?" The plank held and I let her go.

Leah slid the notebook between us. 

“Oh, my God. Is that our secret spy book?”

She smiled. “Remember how to read the code we invented?”

“Hell, no.” It was pure hieroglyphics.