One Voice 02 - Here Without You (5 page)

One girl thankfully muttered, “To each his or her own,” as he walked out, and, armed with that hint of approval, I figured it would be best to get our minds on the business at hand.

“I wasn’t joking when I said that recruitment would be our first task. And I feel confident that we’ll capture the interest of the LGBTQ community here at school if we make ourselves noticeable enough. But I’m not satisfied with that.”

I am sure that Casey and Nate knew exactly where I was going with this, but I got more “this guy is warped” looks from the rest of the small group. The four of them were examining me as if I was a science experiment, which might not seem super overwhelming in terms of numbers, but they
were
the majority.

“Everyone here, as well as everyone on campus, deserves to have his or her sexual orientation and gender identity respected. This cannot happen without straight allies.” I took a deep breath and then glanced at Casey, who made an effort to smile, and Nate, who winked. I felt empowered by their responses. “Now, we’ve all known the bullies who make people feel unwelcome and somehow ‘less,’ based on their perceived sexual orientations. And we’ve all seen
or been
their victims too. In order to shut down these bullies, who thrive on disenfranchising others to feel empowered, we need the bulk of the community, LGBTQ
and
straight, to participate in our club—to buy into our objectives and to support us when it counts.”

When had I started sounding like a politician?

An athletically built girl with buzzed platinum hair raised her hand and then spoke before I could even acknowledge her. “So, I’m Britta, in case you all forgot my name, and I’m a junior. I’m more than glad that you’re starting this alliance up here at school. God knows, it’s necessary. I tried to start one of these groups in high school, and I got no response from the straight kids. As in, none. They weren’t
for
us, and the distance they kept made me feel like they were
against
us. Eventually, the club—that was tiny to begin with—fizzled out completely.”

All of the other kids, the female couple from ethics, Anna and Claire, and Jeremy, a junior who looked like he might play football, as well as Casey and Nate nodded.

“I’m down with that, Britta, which is why we need to focus on recruitment. First from the outwardly LGBTQ crowd, but we also need to strike a chord in the hearts and minds of the rest of the student population and with the staff too.” I passed out a schedule that I had printed at the library. “This is what I want our first activity as a group to be. To set up a club table in the quad on Saturday, October 1, which is Student Involvement Day, to try to enroll members.”

“So we’ll be basically ‘coming out’ to the whole school just by sitting at that table?” Jeremy had a point.

Claire stepped up to respond. “No, Jeremy. It means only that we support a safe school environment for all people. And if none of us is willing to do that, then there will be no change.”

The room was stone silent for a moment, and then everybody lifted the papers and studied them.

“All of us are going to have to be at that table pretty much all day. We’ll just give each other turns with breaks.” I then spelled out the materials we needed to set up the table, designated who would bring snacks and drinks and how we would attend the table all day so it was never empty. Next we looked at the mini-calendar of events I listed at the bottom of the page, outlining days we would hold rallies.

“Our first rally will be on October 11, as it’s National Coming Out Day. It’s the Saturday before the Columbus Day holiday.”

Again Jeremy provided the voice of reason. “So kids are supposed to be lining up at our table in the quad that day to sign up to come out?” I couldn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice. “Like, right.”

“That won’t be our goal. Instead, our goal will still be recruitment. I want to have at least fifteen members by that date and to double our club’s enrollment on that very day alone, due to whatever activity we organize to do in the quad.”

Claire stood up and looked around at the very small crowd. “We have to be the positive ones, right? If we, the leaders in this movement, can’t be positive, then who will be?”

Again the nods, even Jeremy. I went on to point out The National Day of Silence on April 17 and Harvey Milk Day, which would be May 22, one of the last days we would be on campus for finals. “We’ve gotta fill in the rest of the calendar with our own campaigns to make this thing happen.”

Casey and Nate, as predicted, sat quietly beside me as I laid out my plan. I knew Casey believed in the cause. The existence of One Voice was the main reason he came back to school after he was assaulted during junior year. He knew he had support in large numbers from straight and LGBTQ students alike. But Casey’s voice was very quiet in the high school One Voice club, and he stayed on the outskirts of the group—involved but reserved. I knew this behavior was caused by the leftover fear that he couldn’t get rid of because he’d been targeted by bullies for the majority of his school years. Nate had actually been one of the most involved members in high school, totally down for every event we planned. He’d done a lot of the driving, legwork, and lifting. Once it had become clear to him that his voice was as important as others, he’d even volunteered his thoughts. Not often but often enough.

Now I’m going to take the opportunity to handle this entry as a regular One Voice blog post. So I’ll point out a few things that are important. In One Voice,
all
voices—quiet and reserved, lively and determined, questioning and critical—are welcome. Every voice simply represents a population of people whose words or quiet presence needs to be recognized. No matter if you join One Voice to sit, listen, and nod, to carry our table and wave our banner in the quad, or to take charge of an activity, you are vital to making the goals of this club happen.

Everybody who is open minded and welcoming to others, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity, is welcome here in One Voice. Although we are “One Voice,” we are comprised of many varied, individual voices.

5

N
ATE
’
S
D
IARY

August 30

S
EEMS
LIKE
I just can’t get my head outta my ass. Nah. What I mean is, I can’t figure out how to find that place in my head where it feels like everything’s gonna be all right.

It’s cuz I
miss
those guys. So I’m mostly sure I ain’t losin’ my mind or nothin’.

I can feel the missin’ ’em in my bones, and it makes my bones ache like I got the flu. It’s like I can see my guys in front of my eyes every time I blink. I see ’em doin’ their
own
thing, livin’ their college lives without me, growin’ smarter and better by the second. Even though the smarter part of me knows that ain’t what they’re doin’, cuz they’re missin’ the hell outta me too. And when I lay in my bed at night, I can smell ’em and taste ’em and hear all of their squeaky sounds when I love them. Just like I was still with ’em. But I’m not.

Casey and Zander. Casey and Zander. My Casey and my Zander.

Them two guys are my life. So how’d I get stuck all alone in this fuckin’ small, fuckin’ dismal town, two hours north of ’em?

It’s like, over and over I have to friggin’ remind myself how much Cindy needs me. Gotta tell myself that she needs me here day and night. It seems like I’m feelin’ more pissed off about it than I’m feelin’ big-brother protective, like I oughtta be. Without me here, let’s face facts, Cindy’s basically up shit creek, not a paddle in sight. Gotta wonder if she keeps the drama goin’ with Uncle Rich just to keep me around. She knows real good that I won’t leave her alone here if I think she’s in danger.

So I’m gonna drag my ass outta bed, make me and her a decent breakfast, and fake a good-mornin’-how-about-a-glass-of-OJ smile to get her started on the right foot.

Four years. See, it’s like this. Cindy’s a freshman in high school. I gotta stick it out here, watch out for her ass, for four more years.

Then I can join up with them two in Boston and maybe sort out my own life.

If they still wanna let me join up with ’em at that point.

C
ASEY
’
S
REAL
LIFE

I
T
WAS
turning into a habit. When Zander and I had something monumental to discuss with Nate, we called ahead and set up a “Skype appointment” for when he got home from work. At the agreed-upon time, we’d lean against the wall behind Zander’s bed, set up the laptop on his knees, and Skype Nate. We’d hem and haw for a few minutes, make some meaningless small talk for a few more minutes, and then we’d lay the topic, whatever it was, out there.

It felt a bit like two against one. I worried that maybe he would perceive that we were ganging up on him. All we really wanted was to get him here with us permanently and to help him get his life on track.

A couple of nights before, we’d done the whole Skype routine, with the goal of extracting a promise that he’d come to visit us again the next weekend. Last weekend was incredible. It was only natural for us to want an instant replay. There was a football game in the Arthur Johnson Stadium on Saturday and a pancake breakfast at the student center on Sunday morning, both of which we wanted to attend with Nate.

He said he’d try to figure out a plan for where Cindy could go on Friday and Saturday nights. And tonight we would ask him what his plan for Cindy was. Then we were going to fill him in on our other huge, but definitely still tentative, plans.

When Nate turned on Skype and leaned back in his chair, I knew he wasn’t doing very well. I knew the signs of depression, having barely survived it myself. He seemed far away, and I didn’t mean that he was in New Hampshire and we were in Boston. His dark eyes were glassy and staring off to the left. He wasn’t connected with us, and he looked as if he had no inclination to be. He looked skinnier than usual. And very pale.

I knew instinctively that it had hurt him deeply to tear himself away from us on Sunday. His distant behavior was an attempt to cope with his pain. Nate needed us more than I had thought, more than Zander had predicted, more even than Nate knew how to deal with.

“Hey,
sweetheart
.” That was a new one for me, but it served its purpose. Not only did Nate shift his eyes from whatever he was staring at in the upper left corner of his bedroom and look toward my face, but Zander too suddenly turned to look at me. “How’s my big guy?”

Nate apparently had lost his ability to formulate words.

“Yeah, dude. Whassup in the hometown?” Zander stepped in to help me out.

“Uh… not much.” Brief and to the point.

“We’ve been missing you so much. I can’t concentrate on my studying without your hand in my hair.” Throughout our senior year, the three of us had studied together in my living room. Most of the time, I would sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, and Nate and Zander would sit next to each other on the couch. Nate spent most of the time rubbing little circles on my scalp.

“Yeah. Well, whatever,” he grunted and looked back to whatever was so fascinating in the upper left corner of his bedroom.

Since we were going nowhere fast with our banter, Zander focused our throuple on business. “So, what’s the deal with this weekend? Did you find a place for Cindy to stay so you can come here?”

Nate just shook his head.

“Nate, please try harder. We want you to come. I
need
you to come here.” I hadn’t planned those words—they spontaneously erupted from my lips. “Can’t she stay with your aunt again?”

The long dark hair moved from side to side on his wide shoulders as he shook his head again.

“She’s got friends. How about if she goes to one of their houses?”

“Zander, I’m friggin’ workin’ on it.” Neither of us had ever heard Nate speak so harshly other than to those who threatened me in high school. For a moment, we were all silent. Awkwardly so. “Shit. Didn’t mean to bite your head off, man.”

Zander nodded, but his body had stiffened beside me.

“Well, let us know if you find her a place to stay. We really want to see you,” I offered. I was ready to move on to the topic of epic proportions, despite the fact that we were having an off moment. “Zander and I have something we are hoping to discuss with you.”

Our boyfriend then looked straight at us, a steady glance from me to Zander, and I’d swear I saw “Oh, shit. What now?” in his eyes. “Say what?”

I couldn’t help it. I reached over and took Zander’s hand. He squeezed my palm, and I knew he was confused by Nate’s attitude but still hopeful.

“Just listen to what Casey’s gotta say, dude. It comes from both of us.”

Those dark, distant eyes shifted again to focus on me. “’Kay.”

And so I just let the babbler—who lived not too deep inside of me—out of his cage. I started flapping my gums like I was trying to fly away. “Well, you see, it’s like this. The three of us, or ‘us three’ like you always say, well, we’ve been together for almost two years now, right?”

Nate nodded. I could feel the weight of Zander’s stare pressing on the side of my face.

“And we are totally committed to each other. And dedicated too.”

I got another nod from him, accompanied by an unspeakably confused look, but I pressed on. “We are in love, and like Zander said at the One Voice meeting last Sunday, we’re a
family
.”

Zander repeated my last words slowly and in a monotone, as if fascinated by them. “A family.”

“And we wouldn’t have discussed this whole thing without you, but it came up sort of suddenly. So we went ahead and talked about it and….”

I couldn’t miss the stricken expression that passed across Nate’s face. Evidently he was
afraid
of whatever we’d discussed when he was not in our presence.