Page 54 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“The first national march for lesbian and gay rights,” Diamond says. She speaks with a smoker’s rasp, her presence demure but undeniable. “They’re saying over one hundred thousand people turned up, from all over the country.”
“Y’all remember what they did to Harvey Milk,” Cyrus says, looking around as people nod and tsk. “That shit cannot stand. The people learned that day!”
One hundredthousandpeople? Neese can scarcely imagine a mass like that, moving through the wide streets of D.C., demanding—what? Recognition? Respect? Whatever it is, she is now sad to not have been a part of it, though it’s equally difficult to picture herself within the chanting, passionate throng.
“We met some bomb people there,” Blue continues. “People from all walks of life, every age, color, belief system, you name it. But finding other Black people was our main mission.” A few noises of appreciation, understanding. “This movement has to be bigger. It has to be.”
“So? Did you?” Audrey asks eagerly.
“We did.” Cyrus frowns, looking over at Blue. “And it showed us that we need to get organized here.”
“I know,” Blue agrees. “We do. But yes, we’re out here, and things are shifting. Slow as hell, but it’s happening. And we’re gonna stay connected and see how we can build. For now, I want to see what we can build right here, on Howard’s campus.”
“With—” Aja pauses, looks around the room to take a brief, silent inventory. “All nine of us?”
“Yes!” Blue urges. “It starts with nine. We’ll grow. But we have to let people know we’re here.”
Slow fear like bile rises in the back of Neese’s throat, even as the hairs on her arms stand at attention. The room goes silent as everyone digests Blue’s emphatic words, the truth ringing beneath them. Without forward momentum, Lambda is merely a biweekly social gathering. Which is, apparently, inadequate. But—“Is that safe?” she can’t help but ask, and is heartened to hear one or two murmurs of agreement.
“Safe?” Cyrus snorts. “Probably not. But what doessafeeven mean for people like us, if no one stands up? Invisible?”
“What are you proposing, though?” Aja asks, cocking an eyebrow. “Whatexactly?”
“Well, we don’t know what,exactly.” Blue chews the corner of her lip, pensive. “There’s still so much we need to learn about how to properly organize. But we wouldn’t be the first to do it, even if we’re the first to do it here. And I want to be a part of that. Figuring out what can happen here to make life better and safer for all the little gays coming up after us.” She looks around at each of them, and Neese can feel it, the sea change, a collective inhale as they are all tacitly inducted into something larger than themselves. “Don’t you?”
Audrey’s knee bumps against hers, a deliberate press. Clamping down a giddy smile, Neese nudges back.
“I’m a little nervous,” she hears herself say, a multilayered truth she can’t take back, once uttered. “But yeah. I want to.”
“Me too,” Audrey pipes up. As the others follow suit, Blue listens, her smile widening, eyes aglow. She looks over at Diamond, at Cyrus, then at everyone else.
“Alright,” she declares. “First things first, y’all.” Reaching intoher bag, she extracts a folder and opens it, revealing a stack of pages. “We need to get officially recognized as a student organization.”
“So, you’re heading home this weekend, right?” Neese asks. They’ve just left a local coffee shop not far from campus, for a welcome change of homework scenery. Around them, fresh snow drifts from a muted gray sky, a slow release after a long-held breath. Her winter coat is long and cherry red, a vibrant thing against the backdrop of faded brick, ashy concrete.
“Yup,” Audrey says, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside her. “Taking the train.” She smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fifteen hours alone with my thoughts.”
“That’s a lot of hours.”
“And a lot of thoughts.” A pause. Audrey seems to be studying Neese’s boots, which are a bit scuffed at the toes. “Probably most of them about you.”
The everyday hustle around them diminishes to insignificance, the jingle of shop doors opening and closing, the groups of students laughing to each other as they pass them on the sidewalk, the occasional honk of a horn as cars navigate the powdery streets in lower visibility. It’s a precious, shining moment that Neese wants to preserve in a glass jar, press and extend like taffy, examine from every angle, reliving the surprise of such a confession again and again and again.
“What?” she says, happiness rising like a bubble in her throat, threatening to float her away. She edges closer to Audrey, the stronger gravitational pull, delights in those deep brown eyes finally moving upward to meet hers, challenging and fond.
Her voice is soft. “You heard me.”
Neese has nothing to say to that: Shedidhear her, which is exactly why she wants to hear it again. Her eyes trip down to Audrey’s lips, clear and brazen, her mind spinning with giddiness and long-suppressed want. “I…”
“Neese.”
Their eyes meet again. A question, a response. An understanding.
“My roommate is away for the night,” Neese offers. “And I…” She casts around for a few seconds, distracted by the small plume of Audrey’s breath in the frigid air. “I’ve been trying to hang this poster above my bed, but it’s more of a two-person job.”
“Ah.” Audrey nods sagely. “Need some help?”
Her yes rides the wave of a low chuckle, prompting a sideways grin from Audrey, lips twitching against an answering laugh. Neese savors this moment too, her own mirth a sweetly held note.
