Tiffany Scandal - Jigsaw Youth

“Well. . uh, no?”

The three girls were studying me.

“What did you feel?”

“Nothing really. It was kind of boring.”

“Did you just lay there?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Did you try to get into it?”

“Well, yeah.” This was a lie. I didn’t know what I was doing.

“Did you want to have sex with him?”

“Well, sure. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Just because he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean that you have to have sex with him.”

“Yeah, look at how long you’ve been with Mensa and you never slept with her.”

The three of them laughed.

“Man, no seriously. You had sex and it was bad. Girl, that ain’t good. You gotta get yours too.”

“Do you know what works for you?”

I didn’t know what to say. These girls knew so much. I knew almost nothing.

So I shrugged.

“Do you touch yourself?”

I turned red.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone does.”

Serena raised her hand. “I did it before I got out of bed this morning.”

I saw how casually everyone nodded. So I eased up.

“So when you touch yourself, you usually do it until you feel so good, then it’s done, right?”

I nodded.

“What gets you in the mood and what do you think about when you do it?”

I stared at the concrete and said “boobs.”

Then I felt embarrassed.

“It’s okay. Boobs are cool. I like boobs, too,” said Val. The others agreed.

“Do you think about boys? Like, imagining them naked?”

“Not really.”

“Have you ever looked at a boy and felt the same tingling feeling as when you look at women?”

“Not really.”

“Dude. Maybe you’re a lesbian.”

Hearing it like that, I felt like I’d been hit with a semi-truck. Every other time I’d heard that word, it was always negative. Like it was something to be ashamed of, something wrong, raunchy. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with being queer, but I’d never thought I might be.

They came together and hugged me. I didn’t say anything. I was processing.

I felt ridiculous, almost stupid for not thinking it was a possibility.

Mensa was sitting on my porch when I got home. As soon as she saw me, she got up and gave me a hug.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been in a bad mood. .”

“I think I’m gay,” I blurted.

She pulled away. “What?”

“I might be a lesbian.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t think about boys in that way. When I. .”

“No. Stop. Just stop.” She was standing a few feet away from me. “I have to go.”

“Oh.”

I watched her run away from my house.

Mensa wouldn’t even acknowledge that I existed for a week. Everything had turned upside down, seemingly overnight. It hurt that she rejected me. She was my best friend, someone I told everything. We’d even look at pictures of women together and talk about the ones we liked and why. Now that she knew what that meant, she didn’t want anything to do with me. I didn’t understand.

Eventually, I stopped her in the hall.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Mensa rolled her eyes and tried to walk away. My best friend for thirteen years, gone.

I got in front of her again and pushed her.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Get away from me, you fucking dyke!” Eyes wide, hating.

I couldn’t breathe. Like I’d been hit in the stomach.

She was looking at me like I was a monster.

People had stopped to listen. Someone in the hall said, “Called it.”

I walked to the nurse’s office and told her I wasn’t feeling well. I spent the afternoon on one of the cots until school was over.

I kept seeing Mensa’s face in the dark. Hearing what she said to me over and over. It was like I wasn’t even the same person to her. But I was me. It made me scared of what my family might think. I cried quietly and decided I wouldn’t talk about it.

At nineteen, I went on my first date with a lady. It was exciting when she kissed me.

We moved in together three months later. Since we were both off at college, neither of our families had learned about the extent of our relationship.

During weekly calls to my relatives, I’d get questions about school, whether there was a special someone in the picture yet. I always gave the same answer. School is great. I’ve been too busy to meet anyone. A few months into school, one of my uncles switched things up on me. “How’s Paige?”

“She’s good.”

“School going well for her?”

“Yeah.”

“You happy living together?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“You guys got a studio apartment, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Share the same bed?”

“. .”

“Hey, hold on. Your grandma needs help lifting something. You take care, okay?”

I hung up the phone and told Paige I was sure they’d figured it out. We spent the night on the living room floor, touching in the dark and talking about whether we’d be able to tell our families. It didn’t feel great lying, like we were supposed to be ashamed more than we were allowed to be in love.

But eventually the call happened:

“Hi, mija . What’s up?”

I told her that classes were going, where I was working. That, no, there wasn’t a boy, but. . “I have a girlfriend.”

There was no sound from the phone, except a creaking that got louder the longer we weren’t saying anything. Immediately I thought of Mensa, the way she hated me when I told her. The way I was afraid it would happen now, over the phone.

“Grandma, are you still there?”

A deep breath.

“I think something is burning in the kitchen. I have to go.”

“Oh, okay. Love you.”

Click.

There was a while no one called me, and when I’d call, it’d just go to voicemail.

Paige’s mom cried when she told her, but her parents were supportive. They wanted her to know they loved her, no matter what. Her brother wanted to know more about me, and when he saw a picture of us, he commented that she had good taste. Hearing that, I thought, At least one of our families is okay with it.

I was surprised to get a call from the same uncle who’d figured it out. My Uncle Tito.

“Ella, your cousin Nacho just got married. They’re having a party at the house. They want you to come. Bring your girlfriend.”

I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t.

“Ella, I can hear you breathing.”

“I thought the family wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Nah. I think abuelita took it a little hard, but she’s old. It’s hard for old people to understand things these days. You’re still family, you know?”

I wondered if he could hear my smile.

We packed for the weekend, bracing ourselves for the drive, and the questions or judgment that might have been waiting.

When we pulled up in front of the house I’d grown up in, there were colorful lanterns and streamers all over the place. Children that could have been dressed for mass were chasing each other around. Adults stood in small huddles, talking, having a good time.

Paige and I stood at the foot of the driveway. We’d worn the same dresses in different colors. Orange and black.

I gripped her hand tightly, imagining everyone turning to us, scowling. The children throwing rocks. The adults with torches, pitchforks, calling us monsters…

I shook my head, remembering to breathe.

“Ella!”

One of my little cousins ran up and gave me hug. Her little arms wrapped around my thighs. Other kids came running and surrounded us. They led us to the backyard, where more relatives were. The music was loud and people were dancing. People I hadn’t seen in years approached and told me what a beautiful woman I’d become, saying Paige and I suited each other. They took pictures and posed with us. My Uncle Tito was drunk and invited her to dance, because any lady that wanted to date me had to know how to dance. And she did. I watched some of the kids hitting a piñata that seemed unbreakable.