The Trouble with Emily Dickinson (5 page)

JJ knew this. She had always known this. It
was the actual act of telling that was so hard. “I know—”

“What is it Jo-Jo-Bear?” Her father’s use of
her pet name tore at her heart.

JJ held back her tears until they spilled
from her eyes, and when it was time to say the exact words, they
fell from her lips effortlessly: “I’m gay.”

Silence followed, and then her mother’s tears
began to flow as she stood up and left the room. JJ had rushed
after her, clutching a book she’d purchased a year before, hoping
it would help her parents understand.

“I know you are confused, Mom, but this might
help.” She handed over the book, Different Daughters, wishing her
mother would find the courage to read it.

“Was it something I did?” her mother
cried.

“No, Mom, it’s not something anyone did. It’s
just something I am.”

JJ wanted to make her understand, but how
could she make someone understand something that took she, herself,
years to come to terms with completely?

“The neighborhood we raised you in, all those
boys around, maybe if there had been more girls to play with
you—”

“Mom, it’s not that. I’d still be this way.
I’ve known since the third grade. I’ve always known.”

Her mother continued to cry, mourning the
loss of the girly daughter image she still clung to. Her father, on
the other hand, remained completely calm. He said he loved her no
matter what, and that was that. JJ knew he was putting on a front
to hide his disappointment. And it came to fruition a few months
later when she was about to leave for her junior year at Sampson
Academy. They had been watching a documentary on same-sex
marriages, and her father, who was set in his ways, expressed
outrage at the idea and vowed never to condone it. This sparked an
intense argument between them, and they didn’t speak for days.

Eventually her father had come to terms with
it, though he still held onto his own world views, which JJ
accepted because she knew she could not change his entire outlook
on life and society. As long as she had his love and support, she
felt satisfied.

Her mother eventually finished mourning the
loss of the daughter she’d thought she known, and learned to look
at JJ through different eyes. She even read the book and announced
it formally when JJ came home for Christmas break.

“I finished the lesbian book you gave me,”
she said proudly.

JJ laughed. She’d even been able to share
with them her past crushes and insecurities. It was an incredible
feeling to find that her parents’ love was so unconditional. It was
almost overwhelming. Knowing that her friend Queenie had never
experienced such love from her own family somehow made JJ feel
guilty. She knew how much Queenie envied her, and longed to have
the same kind of relationship with her own parents.

Queenie.

JJ had never known anyone like her. She
wondered if Queenie was causing a stir at her sister’s wedding
shower, and wished she were there to witness it. Then her mind
drifted again and Kendal danced her way in. Though they had
interacted on more than a few occasions, their conversations had
been limited to poetry and the brilliance of Emily Dickinson. JJ
had yet to learn anything more about Kendal besides the obvious,
that she was a cheerleader, was incredibly beautiful and popular,
and needed help with her schoolwork.

For some reason, JJ craved more. She wanted
to get inside Kendal’s head, to be able to ask her more meaningful
questions, like what was her biggest fear, and if she could travel
anywhere in the world, where would she go and why.

“Why am I thinking about her?” JJ asked
aloud.

Maybe Queenie was right. Maybe this was
another case of the Dibble Syndrome. But it didn’t feel the same.
The Dibble Syndrome was more of an obsession kind of thing. It
wasn’t real. Then again, maybe this wasn’t real either.

JJ turned off the stereo and flipped on the
television for distraction. A moment later the phone rang twice to
signal an off-campus call. Something told her that it was Queenie
checking in.

“How’s the wedding shower?” JJ asked. She
could hear the sounds of conversation fluttering in the
background.

“I’m having the time of my life,” Queenie
said blandly. “What are you doing?”

“Watching television.” JJ’s finger
robotically hit the channel button on the remote control.

“What’s on?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Hey, I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about
Kendal. I just don’t want to see you go through something like that
again.”

“I know. It’s nothing. Honest.”

“Look, I gotta go,” Queenie said anxiously.
“My sister just opened up a gift and it’s some racy lingerie. I
want to get in a few good barbs while I still can. I’ll see you
Sunday.”

JJ hung up the phone and turned off the
television. She let the quiet seep in around her and closed her
eyes. Instinctively, as if a remote switch flipped on inside her
mind, she began to think about Kendal.

CHAPTER 8

Christine already was getting on Kendal’s
nerves by the time they got to the soccer party. Kendal gladly let
Jason take over the reins of keeping Christine entertained once
they found him in someone else’s dorm room playing cards.

“Here. Have fun,” Kendal said as she handed
Christine over to him. Christine’s limp body fell directly into his
arms and she clung to his chest.

“Hey, you,” Christine managed to say as she
squinted upward to focus on the face in front of her.

“How much did she have to drink?” Jason
asked, grimacing from the stench of Christine’s breath.

“Too much,” said Kendal, who hardly ever
drank anything besides Diet Coke.

Jason picked Christine up and took her to
another room so that she could lie down. The dorm room overflowed
with people. Kendal pushed through the adjoining door and found
four more guys in the next room, sitting in folding chairs around a
wobbly metal card table. She forced a smile, uncertain if she
wanted to stay or leave.

“Want to play?” one of them asked.

Kendal knew instantly who he was. Kyan
Stevens, the captain of the soccer team. He was cute, with dimples
that hung at the sides of his cheeks like half moons when he
smiled. His hair was mussed and he wore a polo shirt fitted close
to his chest. It was obviously a much smaller size than it needed
to be, perfect for showing off his toned body.

Kendal looked away once she realized she’d
been staring a little too hard. She’d had previous brief
conversations with Kyan. He was the only guy at Sampson who had
never once looked her way since freshman year, yet here he was
asking her to sit and play cards.

“It’s an easy game,” he said sweetly.

Kendal stood there with her hands on her
hips. Her evening was pretty much a bust at this point. She finally
threw up her hands, said, “Sure, why not,” and took the empty seat
as the dealer dealt her in.

Of course, this wasn’t a regular card game.
It was a drinking card game. There were heavy penalties for losing
a hand, penalties that involved downing a lot of beer in a very
short time. By the time Kendal finally won her first hand, she was
drunk.

Buzzing from the alcohol that pumped
feverishly through her veins, Kendal couldn’t resist flirting a
little with Kyan. Eventually he exchanged a sort of secret, silent,
coded look with his friends, who one by one left the room.

“Let’s move to the couch,” Kyan suggested,
after they were alone. He stood up and walked over to a sofa
upholstered in plaid. Pillow-white stuffing protruded from tears in
each of the arms. Kendal remained seated in her hard metal chair as
Kyan motioned for her to join him, patting the saggy cushion beside
him. She tingled with drunkenness, and a part of her practically
pleaded to walk over and snuggle up beside him.

“Come sit over here,” he said, patting the
cushion again. “I want to talk to you.”

Kendal studied him for a moment until her
curiosity got the best of her. “Why do you want to talk to me all
of a sudden?” she asked.

Kyan rolled back his bulky shoulders, “I
don’t know. I just do. I think it’s time we got to know each other
better.” He smiled widely, revealing a perfect row of ivory beneath
full lips.

“You’ve known who I was for the past three
years and now you suddenly want to get to know me?” The sharpness
in Kendal’s voice caused Kyan to inch up in his seat.

“I guess it just took me three years to get
up the courage to talk to you.”

“Well, that’s three years too late,” Kendal
told him, turning and walking out of the room.

“Hey, wait a second,” Kyan called after
her.

He remained seated on the beat-up couch
trying to make sense of what had just happened. His mind worked
feverishly, as he tried to formulate a plan on how to get Kendal
McCarthy off of her high horse and into his arms.

* * *

The hood of JJ’s sweatshirt was draped over
her head as she walked back from the library. Unable to distract
herself from thinking of Kendal, she’d gone to the library to get a
jumpstart on a paper that was due in a few weeks. She read some
intriguing online articles, and they’d provided a definite
diversion for her. But reading on the Internet for an hour made her
tired. Soon, she found herself straining to keep her eyes open.

A crisp October breeze tickled her bare legs,
making her wish she hadn’t worn shorts. She kept her head down,
shielding her eyes, and plowed forward over the grass. The sounds
of a nearby soccer party were alive and irritating, and JJ pictured
the scene of girls and boys stuffed shoulder to shoulder in an
overcrowded dorm room. It bothered her to know that Kendal was
probably there in the middle of the mix.

Kendal McCarthy was an enigma. She and JJ had
nothing in common and their contradictions went far beyond sexual
orientation. The truth was, they were worlds apart and nothing
could change that.

Stuck in thought, with her hood sheltering
her head and her eyes from everything, JJ couldn’t clearly see
where she was going. And before she had a chance to look up to see
exactly where she was in relation to her dorm, a girl stumbled out
of what seemed like midair in front of her.

Whoa,” said JJ. She stepped aside before they
collided, but the girl spun around, tripped over her own feet and
tumbled to the ground.

JJ pushed the hood off her head and looked
sideways at the body slumped on the lawn. At first, seeing no
movement, she felt a slight panic travel along the edge of her
limbs.

Then, suddenly, the girl sat up with her head
still hanging down and her hands wrapped around it like a
turban.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked, leaning in
closer.

The girl’s head popped up and wobbled a bit
before JJ recognized that it was none other than THE Kendal
McCarthy sitting in front of her on the damp grass.

“Hi!” Kendal yelled, beaming. “I totally
didn’t see you.”

“I guess it should be a rule to wear
reflective clothing when walking around campus at night,” said JJ.
“Otherwise people run into you from out of nowhere. Maybe hoods
should be banned as well.”

Kendal broke into a fit of laughter, which JJ
suspected was more the result of too much alcohol than the joke
itself.

“Let me help you up,” JJ said, reaching
forward and taking Kendal’s hands in hers. They felt frozen. “Are
you cold?”

Kendal shook her head, even though she was
shivering. She turned around to get a look at her behind. “I think
I sat in something wet.”

“It’s the grass,” JJ told her. “It’s damp
from the dew.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kendal laughed again, and then
stopped as instantly as she’d started. “I need to go home.”

“I’ll walk you. We don’t want any more
collisions happening.” JJ led the way from the grass onto a dirt
path that connected with the sidewalk.

“I know I’m making a complete fool of
myself,” Kendal said, once they reached the sidewalk. “So let me
just apologize ahead of time.”

“Have fun at the soccer party tonight?”

“Not really,” said Kendal, making a face.
“You’d think the soccer team ran the school with what they get away
with. No other group on campus would be able to have parties in
their dorms. It’s ridiculous.”

“If you are so against them, then why do you
go?”

“Because there isn’t anything much else to do
at this school or in this tiny town.”

“I can think of lots of other things to
do.”

“Like what? Studying on a Friday night?”

“I do have a life outside of studying,” JJ
maintained. “But that’s just what I felt like doing tonight. Maybe
you haven’t had a chance to explore anything outside of your little
world yet.”

“My little world?” Kendal asked
defensively.

“Yeah. The secluded world of Sampson
cheerleaders and soccer players.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious. Life is a lot like reading
poetry. You have to read between the lines to really get something
out of it.”

Kendal rolled her eyes. “You’re tutoring me
in poetry, remember. Not life.”

“Poetry is life.”

“Okay, Emily Dickinson, where do you go for
fun then? Besides the library, of course.”

“Have you ever gone to The Spot?”

“The coffee shop in town?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” JJ perked up,
thinking of the atmosphere of the coffee shop around her. “I love
it there. It’s a great place to go and just kick back. Every month
or so they have a band come and play.”

Kendal stopped walking. They were in front of
her dormitory and she was hugging herself to keep warm, her eyes
glossed over from the alcohol.

JJ studied her, feeling as if Kendal was
looking through her, rather than at her. It made JJ want to turn
around to see if anybody was standing behind them.