throat. I forget sometimes. Forget that I’m not transparent. Forget that if I just stay silent, no one will know this piece of me. Forget that, unlike James, I can hide in plain sight and let them assume what they want. If I take Becky’s hand, they’ll think we’re together. That I’m one of them. And that makes me feel sicker. James twists a ring and takes a drink. It’s hard to know where he ends and the actor begins. He’s heard this all and worse before, of course, but his face is impassive. Perhaps he’s used to it. Perhaps he’s able to tune it out. Perhaps he has his own way of hiding.
This is one of three sections that came directly from conversations with writer/activist Ron Goldberg, who wrote the first of WE ARE LOST AND FOUND's afterwards. I'd already written the houseboat scene and he made an offhand comment about how a sense of guilt can come along with being able to "pass". I actually love this passage because it says a lot about the friendship between Michael and James, that Michael was able to realize this.
