Broken to belong, p.3
Broken to Belong, page 3
“So, what else should I know about you?” Dani asked. “I think sometimes we get so used to telling our coming out stories to each other, that we don’t talk about more of who we are.”
I slowed the Ranger down and paused.
Dani looked down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No. Not at all. It’s just, I didn’t realize.” I paused. “You’re right, Dani. I get so wrapped up in the work we do here, that sometimes I don’t see past that when I tell my own story.” I looked her in the eye. “And I bet you get minimized even more with what you do—I mean, your music and all.”
She smirked at me, “Yeah. That’s true, too.” She paused a while. “Sometimes I forget, too, and I lose sight of who I really am. The core of me.”
We sat in silence for a bit, then I smiled at her. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you more about me if you tell me more about you. Something that has nothing to do with music or being a lesbian.”
Dani tried to stifle her chuckle before we both laughed.
After we stopped, her eyes met mine. "I have a tendency to dive into deep topics when I talk with people. It's just the introvert in me. I can't do small talk."
"Me, too. For sure," I said, feeling my shoulders relax a little.
We spent the rest of the afternoon together, driving around and talking more about SASH. After our ride, I closed up the Ranger in the shed, and we took our time back to the house, our hands in our pockets as we walked.
“Thanks for showing me around today,” Dani said with a crooked smile.
“Of course. And thank you for being such good company.” I winked at her before I realized what I was doing. I silently cursed as I stepped onto the front porch and went inside.
“I have to go get ready for group time. See you later?” I asked.
“Definitely.” She smiled at me again as she headed upstairs.
Three
Dani
On my first Saturday morning at SASH, I woke up early and couldn’t fall back to sleep—my new normal. I slipped downstairs, stepping lightly on the creakiest parts of the steps, and walked into the kitchen. Anita stood there, making coffee and taking out ingredients to make breakfast as she sang, her voice deep and resonant.
“You’re up early,” she said to me. “You ok, darlin?”
“Yeah, just couldn’t get back to sleep. I think I’m starting to adjust to the new time, but still not quite there.” I smiled at her as I grabbed a coffee mug. “Can I help?”
She smiled back as she handed me an apron. I put it on and pulled my hair back.
Anita pointed to a whisk and bowl with a faint smile. “So, Dani, what brings you to us this summer? You sure came a long way away, and I’m just curious how you found out about this place.”
“Yeah I guess it is kind of a long haul,” I laughed. “Someone told me about it, and it sounded like something I could have used a long time ago.” I paused and peered down into the bowl. I didn’t want to think about what happened. “So, when I decided to take the summer off of touring, I knew where I wanted to go.”
“Sounds about right—” Anita looked me in the eyes “—and sounds like the reason many of us are here.”
The corner of my lip twitched upward, and I swallowed. My eyes burned at the memory trying to surface, so I focused on scooping flour into a measuring cup.
Anita must have caught on, because she stepped over to the opposite counter and pulled up a playlist. “You like jazz, honey?”
“Hell, yes.” I grinned at her and breathed a little easier.
Soon, we immersed ourselves in making pancakes together and listening to Ella Fitzgerald. We alternated between singing along and talking about our favorite jazz standards like “They Can’t Take That Away from Me” and “At Last.” After we finished up, we brought the food to the table, and Anita smiled at me. “You’re ok, Dani. Thanks for helping me this morning.”
As she walked out of the room, I stood and gazed at the table set for breakfast. Just like for a big family, at least what I thought a big family table should look like. Sitting at a table with my sister, parents, and our extended family seemed like a lifetime ago. Or maybe more like a dream. The sound of the residents coming down the stairs brought me back to the present, and I forced a smile back to my face.
It didn’t take long for me to fall into a rhythm. My mornings were spent helping make breakfast and then going to the garden to help with any watering or weeding that needed to be done before it became too hot outside. My afternoons were spent helping to plan for the big fundraising event and getting to know everyone. My evenings stayed mostly free to do whatever I wanted, but I always made sure to make it for family dinner.
I started to get to know the kids better, and my second week, I was invited to their group meeting to hear their stories in their own words. It was the residents’ idea, and since she led the meetings, Mae asked me to come.
After we all sat down, Mae smiled at me.
“So, welcome Dani. Thanks for coming. I know everyone wanted some time to share a little more with you about why they are here.” She turned toward the others in the circle. “Who wants to share first?”
Sebastian raised his hand just a little above his knee. I wasn’t surprised. I had already started to connect with him over music and poetry.
He rubbed his knees as he spoke.
“Well, I’ve been here for a while. Longest of anyone to date. My folks kicked me out of the house when I came out as trans. They still refer to me with the wrong pronouns and my deadname. About eight months ago, I stopped trying to reach out. SASH is my true family now. They helped me find a doctor so I could start T, and I’ve almost finished college because of all their help. They really saved my life.”
My stomach tightened at hearing just a taste of what he had been through. “Dang. Thanks for sharing with me, Sebastian.”
Kyle cleared his throat and said, “I reckon I’m next.” He pushed his long hair behind his ears and then crossed his arms. “I’ve been here about two months. I lived with my grandparents, and they couldn’t handle the fact I’m gay. So here I am. Livin’ the dream.” He smirked when he finished speaking and looked down at the floor.
I kept my eyes on him for a moment, hoping he would make eye contact. He reminded me of my fifteen-year-old self, with his way of glossing over the most difficult moments with a shrug and a smirk. It’s like believing it’s possible to float just above the surface of a dark lake. No matter how hard you try, you’ll eventually sink down. At least a little, even if it’s just to swim out of it.
After adjusting her glasses on her round freckled face, Aimee spoke in a quiet voice. “My parents found a note I’d written to my girlfriend. They wanted to send me to a ‘pray the gay away’ type place, but I left home and came to SASH instead. I’ve been here about nine months. I still talk to some of my family, and I’m hoping that one of them will eventually take me in. I keep trying with one of my aunts. We used to be really close before … well, you know. Anyway, that’s me.” She pressed her hands into the sides of her chair as she shrugged.
“I hope it works out for you.” I tried to offer a smile through the feeling of nausea that had started to creep in.
Ja’Marcus spoke up in his quiet baritone voice. “I guess it’s my turn. My father is a minister, and so is my mother. They have their own church. They’re real traditional. Like I mean—” Ja’Marcus stiffened himself up and straightened an imaginary tie, then shook his head and smiled. “Anyway, I started questioning if I was gay, and that was enough right there for them to lose it. But then I had to go and argue about what the Bible does and doesn’t say, and well, it didn’t end well. So I’ve been here … How long have I been here?” He laughed.
“Seven months,” Mae answered softly, smiling.
“Yeah, seven months. It’s been real helpful. And I got some good counseling and some time to sort through everything to figure out who I really am. It’s good.”
I smiled at him and nodded.
Lastly, Sarah Beth, a young athletic girl with sandy hair shifted in her chair, looking down. “I was on the soccer team in high school, and I was going into my junior year, voted team captain. Then it all fell apart.”
The room grew quiet, and Sarah Beth’s face reddened as she swallowed hard and held her arm across her body. I held my breath.
“I fell for a girl in my art class.”
Shit. The room felt too small.
“We went for a hike at some falls near our school, and we kissed at the overlook. It was the most amazing feeling—like the most me I had been. But, I didn’t know a guy from school was nearby, and he took a picture and showed it to my parents.” Sarah Beth clenched her fists.
“My dad said some really shitty things to me, things that still make me want to punch a wall. I was basically homeless for a few weeks before I came here. I’ve been here a year, and I’ll be here ‘til I go to college, I guess. I’m just glad I found out about this place when I did, cause I was starting to lose hope. But y’all really helped with that.”
I swallowed hard. When I got kicked out of my house, it took a while to find my bearings. One night after waiting tables, I drove back to my old neighborhood by accident. It wasn’t until I pulled onto the road where I once lived that I realized what I had done. Somehow I felt the same way just then. Sarah Beth’s story hit close to home. Too close.
My eyes stayed on Sara Beth catching her breath and wiping a few tears away as the others looked on and Ja’Marcus held her hand. I had to focus on the people around me, not where I had been.
Mae reached for a tissue box to pass along, then glanced over at me. I looked down for a moment then back up at all the residents.
“Thanks for sharing with me everyone. I mean it. I know how hard it is to trust other people, especially when you’ve been hurt so deeply like this. It means a lot to me. So, thanks.” I gave a half smile and felt my forehead burn.
“Let’s call it a day, everybody. Thanks again for being so open. You all are incredible. See you at supper.”
Everyone stood up, and I hugged the residents as they left and thanked them again for sharing their stories. Once they were gone, Mae walked over to me.
“Thanks for coming and for listening. I know how much it meant to them. They haven’t exactly felt heard outside of SASH.”
“Yeah, I got that,” I shifted my feet and pushed back my hair.
Mae looked at me for a minute. “Hey, you want to go walk for a bit? We have about thirty minutes ‘til supper time.”
“Maybe some other time? I don’t want to make us feel rushed.”
“Well, how about later? I can stay a while longer than I usually do.”
I looked back up to make eye contact. I thought about my conversation with my sister and my need to find something to help me not get stuck in my head. “Ok. Yeah, that sounds nice. I think I could use a walk.”
“Ok, then. It’s a plan.”
Mae
Dani’s eyes gave it all away. I knew the look well, after working with so many people with difficult stories. I knew that she was affected by what she heard in group. I also had a feeling that the next few weeks were going to be more challenging for her than she had probably imagined.
We headed out the back door just after supper. The sun had started to sink in the sky. After making our way past the garden, we stopped at the edge of an open field, and we rested at a wooden fence, tattered but still sturdy. The barn swallows swooped in wide circles overhead while dragonflies darted and danced nearby.
“So, are you ok?” I asked her. She looked off into the distance, biting her lower lip.
“Yeah, I think so.” She leaned against the fence and continued to gaze across the field. “It’s just a lot to hear at once. And it reminds me of where I’ve been. And why I chose to come to SASH this summer.”
“Yeah.” I sighed and leaned on the fence next to her. “It reminds me of why I’m here, too. Even though it’s for different reasons than a lot of people, it’s still a painful one. And that pain feels fresh sometimes. Like tonight.”
I looked back over at Dani, a question continuing to bubble up to the surface of my mind. What happened? I wanted to know what was behind her withdrawing, the mystery behind her emerald eyes. Instead, I bit my lip. I knew better than to push. I also didn’t want to say more. It had the power to send me spinning and add to what Dani was already carrying.
“How do you manage?” The lines in her forehead creased as she asked. “I mean the pain, when it feels fresh like this?”
I fixed my eyes on the trees across the pasture for a moment. “I walk. I write. Sometimes, I talk it over with Anita or Rachel. And sometimes I have to get away, go back home for a few days, or at least a weekend.” I turned toward her again.
“That all sounds good,” she said with a deep breath before she turned to face me. “I think I’m having a hard time figuring out what to do because it’s kind of like being on the road for me right now, you know? I’m not home, and I can’t retreat to my own space in the same way. But it’s also lonelier than the road, ‘cause I don’t have my crew or my band. I could call my sister, Jen. She’s great, actually. But …”
“It’s not the same,” I offered. Dani nodded her head, and her hair fell forward, so I couldn’t see her eyes for a moment.
She pushed her hair back from her face and held it there with one hand before blowing into the air. “I knew this was going to be hard on me. I just didn’t expect it to be this soon or this much.” She paused and then slid her hands into her pockets and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry, Mae. I don’t mean to unload on you. You carry enough with working at a place like this.”
“Hey, don’t worry about that. I figured you needed to talk. That’s why I asked you to walk with me. It was a hard afternoon.” I looked at the sky and took in the changing light. That golden part at the end of a lingering day had always been my favorite time, and the days were starting to get long enough so I could catch it after work.
“Thanks for understanding,” she looked at me with a half-smile. “I guess we should head back soon.”
I realized I had lost track of time. “Yeah, it’s probably a good idea. Follow me, and we’ll go around to the other side of the field. It makes a big loop back to the house.”
We made our way past a grove of oak trees decorated with Spanish moss, and the air became cooler in their shade. Then we walked along an old fence line, replete with blooming wild blackberries. We continued along for a few more moments before Dani stopped.
“What is it? Are you ok?” I asked her.
“Yeah, but what is that incredible smell?” she laughed.
I laughed, too, and took a few steps to get to the fence line. “Honeysuckle.” I pointed out the vines with fragrant yellow and white blossoms. I plucked a couple clusters of flowers and walked back over to Dani. I handed one to her, and she inhaled the scent, closing her eyes.
“That’s amazing,” she said as she looked it over.
“Well, you should try it.” I opened my hand, and she passed the flowers back to me. I stepped right next to her and held a flower up as she watched, her eyebrows sinched together. I pinched the green ball at the end of the flower and drew out the center stem, bringing a small drop of clear liquid to the base.
“What now?” she scratched her cheek and smiled.
“Just a Southern thing,” I said as I held the base up to her mouth so she could taste the nectar. She paused a moment and then placed her lips on the blossom.
Her eyes lit up as she tasted it, and she relaxed her face. “That’s nice. Thanks.” Her breath fell on my hand, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. I pulled my hand away and handed her more flowers before we stepped back on the path.
We both held honeysuckles to our mouths, enjoying those tiny droplets of sweetness as we strolled a little while longer in the fading evening light.
Soon we came close to the house, and we stopped at the back yard.
“Well, this has been the sweetest—pun intended—walk I have been on.” Dani winked at me and then became quiet. “In all seriousness, thank you. I really needed that.”
“Of course.” I crossed my arms and shifted my feet. “You know? Maybe we can make a habit out of it. At least while you’re still getting used to being here.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or take away your time.”
“It ain’t no nevermind.” I responded, and she threw her head back in laughter.
“That must be another Southern thing,” she finally said.
“I mean don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” I laughed as I touched her arm.
“Thanks, Mae. I really like that idea. I think it would help.”
“Then, it’s a plan.” I patted her back, and we walked back up to the house.
As I rode my bike home that evening, I drove past a mess of honeysuckles, and when the scent hit my face, I pictured Dani, drinking the nectar from the flower. Her lips close enough to feel her breath on my hand, and me close enough to her to take in the scent of her hair, sandalwood.
I struggled to keep my mind on the road before me. My mind turned from Dani to the summer before with Heather, then back to Dani’s warm smile.
When I got inside my house, I turned on some music, and Eva Cassidy’s “Time After Time” played as I put pen to paper again, hoping that framing words around my thoughts would offer me some clarity.
Four
Dani
Walking with Mae soon became a normal part of my day—my favorite part, not just because it allowed me some time to sort through my thoughts, but more because it eased my loneliness. It had been a long time since anything had the power to break through that haze, and I looked forward to every evening as we made our way through the fields and beneath the trees, getting to know each other a little better.
