TW: Homophobia
August 3rd 1985, 4 months earlier
It was a warm night and Robin and I were sitting on her bed, painting each others nails. Her room was painted a soft pink and had flowery wallpaper covering two of the walls. It seemed almost frozen in time.
“Jesus, stop moving,” she said under her breath, biting her lip and focusing. She looked so calm sitting there, bathed in the warm light of her room. Her dark hair was in her face and I wanted to tuck it behind her ear.
“I’m not doing it on purpose,” I yawned. She finished off the hand and moved to her desk, thumbing through some CDs. She put one on and If Looks Could Kill started to play. She danced her way over to me and pulled me up off the bed. I groaned as she grabbed my hands and started shaking me. She was mouthing all the words and playing air guitar. She started jumping around the room looking like an absolute maniac, and when I joined her, so did I. The song ended and we dropped down onto the floor, catching our breath. The next track, What About Love? started playing and Robin lifted herself off the floor.
“Dance with me?” She asked, even though it wasn’t really a question. I stood up and she took my hands, lacing them in hers. She pulled them to her hips and put hers around my neck. We swayed like that for a moment, and I felt my cheeks get warm.
“Can I tell you something?” She asked quietly.
“Sure, wh-” then she kissed me. It was awkward and hesitant, but I kissed her back, and it felt as if I had been waiting for it since I met her. It was warm and sweet and she tasted like honey and longing. We kissed and kissed, like the world was ending. I didn't want to let her go but I pulled away and held her hands. We laughed, and then I hugged her. We held each other like that for a long while.
“I-” I started.
“I know,” she whispered, touching her forehead to mine.
“Robin,” said her step-father from the doorway. She pushed me away before I had the chance to react.
“Marisol, I think you should leave,” He said firmly. He was rigid and his face was red with anger.
“Yes sir.” I looked down and gathered my things, slipping on my shoes and rushing out of the house onto the sidewalk.
As I was standing there, I thought about what had just happened inside and felt shame wash over me. I remembered sitting in youth group at the church, hearing them talk about people from the church who had committed sins like I had just committed. I remembered overhearing my mother crying on the phone while talking to my aunt, who’s son had started seeing another man. Hearing the fear and disappointment coating her voice. As I thought about that moment, I threw up on Robin’s lawn.
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