Bethany's Blues

In the aftermath of the big fight, I felt a little like a persistent pet; she sent me away, but I kept finding my way home. Sure, we got back together a few times. We fought because she couldn't handle being with a woman, and I couldn't handle her urgency for secrecy. I wanted to be out, and open, and raw. She wanted a quiet romance; something that wouldn't have to stir up shit with her family. Being that she was testy with the whole homosexual tendencies deal, I can kind of see why she had her hesitancy.

"I can't picture being married to a woman," she'd say. "And what about kids? I want them the natural way." At this point, I'd always retort, "Well, you liked my brother first. We could get out your fantasies by letting you two hook up." She was always insulted by that. I was joking; I'd never be able to live with the idea of her and Joshie getting it on. Yeah, "Joshie" – I still think of my brother as a 12-year old twerp. He's in his mid-20s, and I still think first of him as a kid. I think he kind of resents that I've never let him age in my mind. Call it a big sister thing.

What finally blew it was my drunken rendition of Blue Suede Shoes at the pub; not so much the singing, but the dedication, "To the girl I love.. and love to fuck--!!" And this was at her birthday party, family all around. I'm supposed to be the "cool roommate". I wasn't supposed to clue people in. No one seemed to notice, oddly enough. They probably let it slide, thinking I was too out of it to say what I had on my mind. Maybe they only heard the first bit?

After disowning me 'for good', she turned me out of the apartment. Gracelessly, I might add. There was a lot of screaming – I was crying – and swearing. I begged mercilessly, but, alas, Jodie had had enough of my shit. "I never fucking loved you," was her parting sentiment. Sobbing, and carrying a duffel bag full of clothes I hated, I made my way to a friend's. Ben is a goofy motherfucker. Being that he's downtown, like me, I figured he was the first stop. Ben wasn't home. I trekked for an hour down the bad street of town. I guess something about a sopping bull-dyke invites caution: no one fucked with me. The few hookers I ran in to couldn't get out of my way fast enough.

Mom was less than pleased, having me show up at 3 AM, ding-donging her doorbell ceaselessly until she came to the door. She let me in, regardless. "Take a goddamn shower," she said. "You smell like a goddamn drunk."

Well Mom, guess what…

I stayed with Mom for two weeks. Eventually, we got sick of each other. I moved on to Ben's; he was good with me being there for a few months. I found a place of my own, and that suited me just fine. Now I'm out job-hunting. These days, it’s hard to find a job. Being an obvious homo doesn't help. It's a little off-putting for most people, it seems.

Jodie called me, last Wednesday. We had a heart-to-heart that ended in sobs, and a late-night meet at a coffee shop.

She wants me back.

I just don't know if it's worth it.