“Religious people suck,” I say, and Aisha nods and continues to trace a pattern in the loose gravel around her, like a sole figure skater practicing.
We sit for a while, and somehow I feel a little relaxed, which is weird because nothing is okay, not really.
“So wait,” I say. “How come that felt kind of like a first date? Am I crazy?”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “That wasn’t cool.”
“Were you, like, playing me?” I ask.
She takes a deep breath, looks up and to the right. Then she looks directly at me.
“No and yes. I mean, I knew you dug me, and I thought maybe … But I like you, Carson, really. You crack me up. I need a friend, and this isn’t the best place to be a lesbian, you know?”
I stand up. “C’mon,” I say, sure of myself while knowing that it’s not my call to make.
“Where are we going?” she says, slowly standing.
“Home,” I say. “You’re staying with me.”
“I WISH THERE was a way I could make sure my mother wasn’t, like, in the kitchen,” I say as we stand in front of the door to the house.
Aisha looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “You don’t really get lesbianism, do you, Carson?” she says.
I turn away from her and pretend to have trouble with the lock. I mean, as far as getting lesbianism is concerned, I do and I don’t, I guess. I mean, I get that she’s a lesbian, and that she likes girls, aka not me. But that doesn’t mean that I’m a lesbian too, if you know what I mean. Just because visiting a guy’s house doesn’t do much for her, that doesn’t mean that having a hot girl come over doesn’t do something for me.
“I would just rather tell them, I don’t know, tomorrow, I guess,” I say.
Aisha drove us back to the house in her red Dodge Neon, and on the way, I’d formulated about ten arguments for why we need to let Aisha stay. While my mom barely notices my existence and is very chill about almost everything always, I can’t really picture her going along with a strange girl moving into the house. And not knowing my dad, whose place we’re in, it’s really hard to imagine everyone will be like, Sure! Why not?
“This isn’t a hookup. You get that, right?”
“Yep. Not into me. Got it.”
She exhales loudly. “Forget it. Let’s just. I don’t know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, see ya,” I say, and this actually surprises her, because she turns quickly toward me, her eyes wide. “I’m kidding, God,” I say. “Like I’m really going to let you sleep with the monkeys because you won’t put out. Gimme a break. C’mon.”
I open the door for Aisha, and as she passes through, she says, “No monkeys at the zoo.”
And I reply, “Big shocker.”
Mom is searching through the refrigerator when we walk into the kitchen. Her hair is wet and she’s wearing a beige floral-print robe.
“We’re out of Greek yogurt,” she says to me when she hears my footsteps. When I don’t answer right away, she turns around.
“Oh,” she says, seeing Aisha and fiddling with her robe to make sure it’s closed, which it is. “You’ve brought a friend. How lovely.”
“Sorry, I should have called,” I say. “This is my new friend Aisha.”
They both say hi, and then we stand there, awkwardly.
“Would you like something to eat?” my mother asks.
“Do you have any Greek yogurt?” Aisha asks, and it’s spot on, because my mother, who isn’t always about the quirky humor, smiles.
“As a matter of fact, we don’t,” she says. She then pulls out a Tupperware container. “Strawberries?”
Aisha says she’d love some, and I realize she probably hasn’t been eating well. I pour some out on a plate, and I ask my mother if she and I can talk in the other room for a second. As Aisha sits at our kitchen table and gobbles berries, I follow my mom into the living room. My brain spins through all of the arguments I’ve come up with.
“What do you need, honey?” my mother asks. There’s an edge to her voice, and I hear it as, I can’t take one more thing, Carson. Not one more thing. She’s been here with Dad all day, which has probably not been great. The bags under her eyes look dark and heavy, like fruit scales at the supermarket.
“Aisha’s a lesbian and she got kicked out by her dad,” I say.
“Oh,” my mother says, and I realize the counselor in her will totally get this.
“It’s really bad. She’s been sleeping outside, and she’s an amazing person. You have to talk to her. She’s just so cool.”
“How long have you known her?”
It’s obviously a rhetorical question, since I have to have met her either Monday, yesterday, or today.
“We met at the zoo.”
“I see,” my mother says.
I stare at the ground and tap my foot a few times. “I’m just trying to figure out the right thing to do,” I say. “I mean, obviously, what would be best for her isn’t possible, probably, because, even though she’s a lesbian, she’s still a girl and all. So obviously she can’t stay here, right?” I lower my head and peer at her face.
My mother sighs. I don’t know what it feels like to have her tell me no, because I don’t ask for a lot, usually. I just sort of take what I need, and I’m pretty self-sufficient. But I think I’m about to find out what no sounds like. When she doesn’t say anything, I add, “She’s looking for work, so it’s not like she’ll be here except for at night.”
My mother sighs again. “If it’s okay with your dad, it’s fine,” she says. “Do what you feel is right, honey.”
I admit I’m a little shocked. Because even though it’s what I want, it just seems like, Wow. That was really, really easy.
I knock on my dad’s door. He opens it up, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him since our first meeting. His eyes are glassy, and I don’t know if he’s drunk or not.
I tell him the situation, and amazingly, he asks more questions than my mom did.
“You sure you’re not just saying she’s a lesbian so you can get some?” he asks, smirking.
I shake my head. I have no idea if he’s kidding or not. “No. She’s an actual lesbian.”
“Are you gay?” he asks.
“No, Dad. I’m not gay. Thanks for asking, though.”
He laughs. “So there is a part of you that digs this girl, right?”
I shrug and keep my calm. “It’s not gonna happen. She’s cool, though.”
He continues to smirk at me. “Attaboy. And just so you know, I would’ve been fine with you being gay too. I’m not like that and all.”
“Duly noted,” I say, and he laughs again.
“A lesbian in the basement. I like it,” he says. “I dig it.”
“Nineteen seventy-something wants its word back,” I reply, and my dad’s smile gets a little wider before he retreats back into his cave and shuts the door.
“He’s fine with it,” I say to my mom as I pass her, and she nods her head. I can’t quite tell, but it looks like her jaw is really tight.
I walk back into the kitchen. “Welcome home, I guess,” I say, and Aisha gives me an animated look of shock.
Once settled in the basement with me, Aisha heads off to the shower, saying it’s her first home shower in a few days, since she had been limited to showers at the Billings Athletic Club. I can hear the spray of the water from my room, and my heart starts beating fast. All I can do is think about what excuses I could come up with to go into the bathroom and somehow sneak a peek inside the shower curtain.