This Used to be Easier

by Katia Rose

‘Hello, Derek. Welcome to my place. Don’t mind the homeless lesbian hiding under the bed in existential terror. Would you like a drink?’”

“I hope you meet a nice girl, because you’re a nice girl, and that would be...nice.”

She didn’t give that name to everyone because it meant nothing; she made it part of her because it meant more than all the pieces of herself she left behind.

It’s just like it’s always been between us: I’ll take every chance I get to be close to her.

This small town made us into small kids with narrow visions, and maybe I don’t need blinders to feel safe. Maybe what I really need is to open my eyes wider than I ever have before.

“You’re my big sister. You can do anything.”

there she is: Meg Doyle. My Meg Doyle.

“I don’t think you’re a freak, Meg,” she says. “I ask you those questions about being a lesbian because I want you to know you don’t have to be embarrassed or hide who you are. I want to know who you are, and I see now I can do that better just by listening.”

“Connie,” I say in the most solemn voice I can manage as I grip her hands tight, “I would love to be your girlfriend.” She’s beaming at me, and as if on cue, we both start squealing at exactly the same time. I straighten up and pull her to her feet. We throw ourselves into a hug, jumping up and down on the creaky floorboards and drowning out the dull thump of the music inside.

“You know, I never saw it before, but you two just make sense. I wish you all the best.” My face is starting to hurt from smiling so much. Ed hums to himself while pouring the shots. “To Chapel Creeks’ newest couple!” he says after he’s distributed the glasses. “May they be happy for many years to come.”

I imagine travelling back in time to drop out of the sky on my first day of seventh grade. I picture the me I am today telling the girl I was then that almost exactly ten years later, the girl in the baggy shorts at the locker next to mine would be taking me to my first apartment in Montreal in a truck driven by some guy the whole school called Pat the Pervert.

Sometimes I stop by just to have the pleasure of seeing her pretty face among all those pretty flowers. It’s extremely gay.