Daphne’s POV
S4
You’ve known him since you were eight. Since the day after his family moved
into the big brick house three down from yours. Since the moment he walked into
your front yard and asked if you liked Barbies. Since the summer he left dirty
little handprints on all of your pretty dresses in the most asexual way.
You know him now better then you know yourself and considering the multitude
of layers that have developed, sweet and thin and brittle like a flaky biscuit,
that is quite a feat. You fancy yourself an easy person, a laid back person,
a what you see is what you get and you can take it or leave it person. Justin’s
not that way at all. He’s mystery shrouded in pent-up aggression laced in secrets
and tied with a double life. But, he talks to you and you listen. He’s always
talked and you’ve always listened.
He called today to tell you there would be people in your apartment. You bit
your lip and nodded though he couldn’t see you through the phone. You knew everything
and nothing was wrong at the same time.
Massive amounts of shaved hair and righteous indignation were waiting on your
welcome mat. There was a boy with an attitude that didn’t fit his pretty face
and a flock of followers that made your gut churn. You hadn’t seen a herd of
sheep quite that white and wandering in a long while.
You wondered if there would be ammunition and how often it would misfire.
You took your incredibly heterosexual self into your bedroom and shut and locked
the door, more to keep yourself in than to keep the pussies in pink out. You
put oversized headphones on your ears and listened to fucking Hillary Duff because
it was the straightest CD you owned (and really, if anyone asks, you don’t own
it).
Minutes turn into hours and your thoughts start to blend and break. You remember
pieces of days and months of years when you were his whole world. A time when
you were the only person on the planet who knew Justin Taylor was gay and it
was a secret so precious that you only wrote about it in your locked diary (the
one you hid under your mattress) and even then the words were in code.
Now he’s out and he’s proud and he might be the most openly gay mutherfucker
you’ve ever met, but damnit you love him for it. You want him to grow and flourish
and make the world a better place for every gay person, and you’ll help him.
You find yourself more concerned about his rights than your own. And last time
you checked you were black and you were a woman and you’re not sure if your
double minority status beats out his single, more taboo, minority status…but
you think some days it does. Though honestly you don’t keep track of these kinds
of things because you’ve know him since you were eight, since the day he moved
in to the house three down from yours, since the summer he chased you through
backyards moist with heat and tickled you until you turned pink. And back then,
you loved pink.
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