Page 47 of Down My Chimney

“I haven’t deleted them yet because they’re evidence of harassment, which I need if I want to get their accounts shut down. But…”

“But you shouldn’t have to deal with that in the first place,” I said. “That’s so fucked up. I can report them too. And I can make whatever kind of clarifying post you want. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

Marika bit her lip. “Ithinkyou posting something about how we’re just friends will help. But there’s always a chance I’m wrong. Honestly, I’d probably just let it go, but my girlfriend’s more upset by it than I am.”

Again, I wondered if I’d misheard.

“I’m sorry, did you say—”

“Girlfriend?” Marika smiled. “Yeah, it’s kind of recent. Christine and I met over the summer. But for obvious reasons, she’s not a super huge fan of this whole situation.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, still processing. “I totally get that. I just—I didn’t know you were…”

“You never asked,” she said, laughing.

“I guess I didn’t.”

“Don’t feel too bad about it. It’s not like I’ve ever asked you that question. For all I know, you like guys.”

She was still laughing as she said it, but when I inhaled sharply, she stopped. She cocked her head to the side, scrutinizing me. My heart hammered in my chest.

I didn’t have to tell her. But her admission tugged at something inside me. Some part of me that just wanted to be seen for once.

“Yeah, about that.” I took a chip from the basket and broke it in two. I set one piece down, then broke the second one again, and again, until there was a tiny mountain of tortilla shards on the plastic tablecloth. I let out a long breath. “I, uh, sorta do.”

“Oh.” Marika’s eyes widened. “Well, that’s cool.”

“Is it?” My laugh was threadbare. “Mostly it’s been kind of a nightmare.”

“What? Why?”

“Because—because…” God, where to even start? “Because I’m a coward. That’s the root of most of my problems, actually.”

She seemed to understand what I couldn’t bring myself to say. “You know you don’t owe anyone your sexuality. You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” I said, rubbing tortilla crumbs between my fingers until they turned to dust. “I know that. But that still doesn’t make it easy.”

She nodded. “I hear you. I still haven’t worked up the nerve to tell my parents. I know they love me, but they’re kind of conservative, and it’s just scary.”

My stomach twisted. My parents were pretty liberal. What wasmyexcuse?

“Hey.” Marika tilted her head to the side again. “I was just thinking. That person you used to send those novel-length texts to. The ones you never let me see last spring. Are you two—”

Pain stabbed through me. “Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Her voice was quiet. “But you—”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Yeah, we were.”

It was odd, though. Thinking about the breakup still stung, but I found myself wanting to tell her about Henry. How sweet and funny and smart he was. I didn’t want her to think he was a bad guy.

And trying to see things from Marika’s perspective—trying to seeHenryfrom her perspective—filled my chest with a warmth I hadn’t felt in months. I remembered how proud I was of him. I smiled, thinking of how he lit up a room.

So I told her. I told her everything, about how we met as kids, and how we fell out in middle school, and how we got back together last year. And then, I told her how it ended. How it was all my fault.

“He does sound great,” Marika said as we packed up our things to leave. “But I’ve got to disagree with you on one point.” She gave me a stern look. “I don’t think he’s better than you deserve. In fact, if he’s everything you say, I think you deserve just that.”

I wasn’t so sure. What had I ever done to deserve all the good things in my life? I had a big following online, but had I ever done anything worthwhile with it? Sure, I’d directed some money to charity, but I hadn’t even been able to stop my friend from getting harassed.

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