Page 104 of Leaving the Station
She nods. “It was perfect.”
Oakley nuzzles into me, and I hold her, and I feel big and small and soft and strong all at the same time. Masculine and feminine and peaceful. I don’t mind that it’s only for right now, because right now is so, so good.
“Oakley?” I ask after a minute. She turns to me, her head buried in my neck as she makes ahmsound. “I’m not dating that boy anymore. And I wasn’t, really, the whole time we’ve been on the train.” She’s frozen against my chest, and I’m sure she can feel my heart beating much too fast for its own good. “It was shitty not to tell you before, but I didn’t know how to talk about it. It’s over anyway. I called him late last night.”
She doesn’t say anything, just cuddles me closer.
“Zoe?” she says after another minute, using the same tone of voice with which I said her name.
“Yeah?” I ask, my mouth against her hair.
“I don’t know if I’m going back.”
I sit up. “What?” Then, because I can’t help it: “Was what we just did that good?”
She snorts, then sniffles, and when I look up at her she’s crying. “I don’t know what I want to do,” she admits, flustered. “I need more time to think about everything.”
I rub her back and wait to see if she’ll say more. We sit like that for a minute, and then she says, “I know I told you I felt like I failed at being queer, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Personally, I think you’re very good at it,” I say as I trace her spine from her neck down, down, down, to the small of her back, with its peach-fuzz hairs. “There’s no way to bebadat it.”
I say this for myself as much as her. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s going on with my gender for this whole semester, but maybe it’s not as urgent as I thought. Maybe I’ll figure it out slowly, or not at all.
Thank you, she mouths, and I kiss her while I can, while she’s right in front of me. “I’m going home for Thanksgiving, but then... I don’t know.”
I nod, like this isn’t the most revelatory thing she could possibly say.
“Are you doing it for me?” I ask quietly.
I don’t know if she heard me, and I’m not sure I want her to.
She shakes her head. “Maybe it would make more sense if I was, but I’m not. I’m doing it forme.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I tell her honestly. I pull her down with me and wrap an arm around her. “I really, really care about you,Oakley,” I say. “But I want you to make whatever decision feels best for you. And if that means never seeing you again, that’s okay.”
She tilts her chin so that she’s staring into my eyes. “But what if that’s not okay with me? What if I want to see you after this trip? What if I want to kiss you and cuddle you and tell you fun facts while you’re half asleep?”
“If you wanted that, then I’d want it too.” I squeeze her. “I’m happy with any amount of time you’ll give me.”
She nods into my chest and hugs me closer, like she’s trying to break through my skin.
“You don’t have to know right now,” I tell her. “But maybe we can not know together?”
“That’d be nice,” she says as the train rocks us back and forth in a familiar rhythm. “And I can use any pronouns you want when I tell everyone about you and this trip, by the way. Because Iwillbe talking about you.”
I grin at that. Oakley doesn’t care that I don’t have everything figured out. She wants tohelpme figure it out.
“Do you think things will be different when we’re off the train?” she asks after a minute.
“Well, we’d be able to sleep in an actual bed together, for starters,” I tell her, but then I look down and see that she’s serious.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “But I can’t wait to find out.”
Twenty
Thursday, 10 a.m., One Hour outside of Seattle
Oakley and I lay in bed for a while longer, letting Washington pass by outside our window. Whenever the train slows, she snuggles closer to me, and I pull her in.
