Page 122 of Fade into You
“I can’t believe you never said anything! You’ve been thinking I was that bitch the entire time you’ve known me?”
“I secretly forgave you.”
“Secretly. I. Was. Crushing. Hard. From the beginning.”
“I was too,” I admit.
She leans over and plants a small kiss on my now very red cheek. It’s sweet and innocent and just what I need. I feel the memory of her lips tingle on my skin and can’t wait until the hard shit of the day ends and we can find a real place to crash in each other’s arms.
“And I loved your poem, Bird,” she adds. “I’ve loved all your poems.” She takes my hand and interlaces her fingers with mine. “So, now that we can safely assume he isn’t going to laugh at you and dump a unicorn latte in your lap, think you’re ready for this?”
She’s smiling at me; god, I love her smile—I’ve missed her smile.
I take a deep breath, summoning all the bravery I’ve been building with her. As we head across the street to the brownstoneand up the front steps, Jessa walks beside me. But I pause before ringing the bell. There’s a party going on inside, and I can see people laughing through the window, wineglasses in their hands, smiles on their faces. Somehow I was expecting a quiet home, maybe even a little bit dark and sad. Instead, this home is filled with light and music and happy people. One woman leans in and kisses another woman, and no one notices. I notice. Then Jessa takes my hand in hers, looks me in the eye, and says, “We got this.”
My hand is trembling as I press the doorbell. At first I don’t think anyone hears it over all the music and people laughing and talking. I knock instead, and awkwardly look at Jessa and mouth,What do I do?But then the door opens, making me jump.
The man who opens the door, I recognize him—Baker, of Nardino & Baker.Seth Baker. Except he’s older now than he was in the grainy photo, and has an even bigger smile than he did in the picture.
“Hellooooo, stragglers!” he’s bellowing before he realizes we aren’t late party guests. “Oh, sorry, can I help you?”
Jessa nudges my shoulder gently with hers. “H-h-hi, I—I—I’m…”
I trail off, words too hard right now—not enough in this moment to explainwho I am. The door opens wider and there he is, older than in my memory but still himself. Still my dad.
“Seth, who do have we here?” He’s grinning, red-faced, likely from the contents of his glass, having a wonderful evening, and here I am, interrupting. But as he gets a good look at me, his face shifts and he absently passes his wineglass to Seth. It changes, notinto disgust or fear or anger, but something else. Something like disbelief and joy, maybe, I hope.
“B-B-B-Birdie?”
My heart is thundering and words aren’t coming and I nod and now he holds his hands out toward me, this man I remember so well, but only in pieces, like from a dream: his capable hands holding firewood and showing me how to get it lit, his body demonstrating the moves on the skating rink, his arms around me. For once, it isn’t a memory as I slam into him and hold on tight. Dad.
JESSA
Bird and her dad haven’tlet go, and I feel myself smiling, at this man who seems to really love her. I see his eyes, green ringed with blue just like hers, and he’s so clearly happy to have her back. I know how that feels.
“Well, I’d say you should come on in,” the other man says. “I’m Seth, Chuck’s partner.” He extends a hand to me, but my hand is outta commission, so I kinda wave.
“I’m Jessa.”
“It’s warmer inside,” he says, and tugs on Chuck’s shirt. He and Bird finally part, and we follow Seth to a cozy kitchen filled with plates of appetizers and bowls of dips and big ice-filled tubs of drinks.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” Seth says, and pulls two Frescas from the tubs. “Sorry, most of our drinks are boozy.” Nobody really likes Fresca.
“Bird, I don’t understand, how did you…” Her father’s voice has tones like hers, I can see where the lilt in her speech comes from, the way she’s almost musical in how she talks.
My phone buzzes, distracting me. I look to see Dad’s cell phone number on the caller ID and tuck it back away. This makes nineteen missed calls. Suddenly they can’t leave me alone. Too little too late. I have to be there for someone else now.
Seth looks over at Bird and her father, and I follow his gaze, the two in conversation now, definitely deep, emotional. She looks okay, though—good, happy.
“Hey, so, how do you know Bird?” Seth asks. I’m glad he knows about her. That means her father told him, that means he’s been thinking about her, isn’t hiding her like my parents hide Mack. That kind of thoughtfulness… it means something, and I feel safer just hearing that.
“I’m her girlfriend.” Hell, if I can’t be out atthisparty, I’m gonna need a permacloset.
“Oh, that’s great.” He cracks a big smile. I guess he must’ve been anxious Bird wouldn’t know about the gay thing. “Well, they’re going to need some time, I think. Would you like to meet some of our friends?”
“Sure.” I’d like anything to avoid awkward small talk… even if it’s awkward group small talk. Seth walks me around the room and introduces me. Most of the people here are queer, coupled up, and awesome as hell. I can’t stop listening as I hear “how we met” stories and catch discussions of the bids to put in state gay marriage laws. It’s a roomful of people like me and people who support others like me. There’s so much warmth and love and a lot of terrible puns (typical adults). And this incredible sense of belonging. Everyone is being themselves. No lies, no masks, just being. It feels amazing. I’ve never had this before.
I’m drawn away by more buzzing, more messages. I hold up my phone to the lady I’m talking to, an editor at a local entertainment paper, who I’m actually having a great conversation with about music reviews. She gives me a nod to go take it.
