Set the Record Straight

by Hannah Bonam-Young

Clara was special. Is special. She’s a mosaic of a person. So many differing, unique elements that create one perfect thing. A little chaotic and a whole lot of mess involved—but beautiful all the same.

Clara’s my last remaining piece of home.

“So they think I’m an idiot? Or worse, a liar? A gay fraud? A gaud!”

“I have! What if they only hired me because I’m gay?” “You’re not gay.” “Exactly!” “Are you seriously claiming reverse discrimination? In this year of our Lord two thousand and twenty-two?”

It’s been two weeks since Clara and I made our plan that she’s dubbed Operation Merry and Gay. It was either that or Ho-Ho-Homo.

I’m either a narcissist—and can only get off using my own imagination by myself—or I’m not as straight as I thought I was this morning. Hell, an hour ago. I might have a crush on my fake girlfriend.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with me,” she whispers. “But I think I like it.” “Kissing girls?” “Kissing you,”

If I had to pinpoint it—if I was asked at this exact moment—I’d say my sexuality is the corner of Evan’s lips. It’s the gasps she makes that act as a windstorm in my chest. It’s the space between her fingers where I fit better than anywhere else. It’s all instinct here. Intuition. And I’ve been waiting my whole life for this rush. So I’m not questioning it anymore.

And after last night, I can’t say I wouldn’t rather be home right now, hibernating under blankets with Clara. Or using her legs as a scarf.

“That I’d spent my life as a half, and now I’m whole. Like I’ve been sleeping so long under a haze—an illusion of comfort—then you came in. Sunshine and golden rays of light. And you made everything brighter.”

“I actually thought there were only two kinds of love before. That it was just love like your family or romantic love. But I think there may be hundreds of kinds. Love like a new lease on life. Love like a place to exist freely. Love like being understood. Love like the contented quiet. Love like freshly baked cookies. Love like a thin veil between wishing it’d started earlier and loving the way it began.”

“It’s an LG-BLT flag, I’m told.” Daryl nods, beaming with pride. “Oh my god,” Clara mutters under her breath.