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I kissed her finger. "Because I'm happy," I said. "Because your
saying
that right now makes me happier than almost anything else could.
No---there's no need to pretend."
"As long as we remember that," Annie said, "I think we'll be okay."
"So do I," I said. It got dark outside early that afternoon, because
of
the rain, and it was already like twilight in the house. One of us
got
up and pulled the shade down most of the way, and turned on a light
in
the hall. It made a wonderful faraway glow and touched Annie's smooth
soft skin with gold. After the first few minutes, I think most of the
rest of our shyness with each other vanished. And then, after a very
long time, I heard a knock, and downstairs the handle of the front
door
rattled insistently.
Dear Annie,
It's late as I write this. Outside,
it's beginning to snow; I can see big flakes tumbling lazily down
outside my window. The girl across the hall says December is early
for
snow in Cambridge, at least snow that amounts to anything. January
and
February are the big snow months, she says. "Know the truth," Ms.
Widmer used to quote--remember we used to say it to each other?--"and
the
truth will make you free." Annie, it's so hard to remember the end of
our time in Ms. Stevenson's and Ms. Widmer's house; it's hard even to
think of it. I read somewhere the other day that love is good as long
as
it's honest and unselfish and hurts no one. That people's biological
sex
doesn't matter when it comes to love; that there have always been gay
people; that there are even some gay animals and many bisexual ones;
that other societies have accepted and do accept gays--so maybe our
society is backward. My mind believes that, Annie, and I can accept
most
of it with my heart, too, except I keep stumbling on just one
statement: as long as it hurts no one.
Annie, I think that's what made me stop writing to you last June.
Will I
write to you now--will I send this letter, I mean? I've started
others
and thrown them away. I don't know if I'll mail this. But I think
I'll
keep it for a little while ...
14
When the door handle rattled, Annie
and I both froze and clung together. I have never been able to forget
the look on Annie's face, but it is the one thing about her that I
would
like to be able to forget--the fear and horror and pain, where a
moment
before had been wonder and love and peace.
"It's not either of them," I
whispered to Annie, glancing at the clock on the night table. The
clock
said half past six, and Ms. Stevenson and Ms. Widmer had said they'd
be
home around eight.
"Maybe if we just stay quiet," Annie whispered, still
clinging to me--I could feel her shaking, and I could feel that I was
shaking, too.
#"Open this door," commanded a loud female voice. "Open it
this instant, or I'll call the police." My legs were made of stone;
so
were my arms. Somehow I kissed Annie, somehow moved away from her and
reached for my clothes. She sat up, holding the sheet around her. A
kitten, I thought, looks like this when it's frightened and trying to
be
brave at the same time.
"Stay here," I said. "I'm the one who's supposed
to be feeding the cats--it's okay for me to be here." I was pulling
on my
jeans, trying to button my shirt--there wasn't time to put on
anything
else. The door handle rattled again and there was more pounding.
"Just a
minute," I called as calmly as I could. "I'll be right there."
"Liza, I'm coming too," Annie insisted. "You can't go alone."
"It'll look worse, don't you see, if you're there?" I whispered
fiercely, pushing her back, her face breaking my heart. "I'm
coming," I
called. Annie reached for my hand and squeezed it hard. "You're
right,"
she said. "But be careful. And--Liza? You were right before, too. I
wouldn't have gone home and told my parents." I tried to smile at
her,
and then I ran downstairs in my bare feet, trying to make sense out
of
my hair as I went, and trying not to fall over the saucepan helmets
that
were still on the floor. I switched on the light, opened the door a
crack, and said, "Yes?" I tried to make it sound casual, but my voice
was shaking so much I'm sure I sounded just as terrified as I was.
There
on the steps was Ms. Baxter, and behind her, staring at my bare feet
and
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