Page 57 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“Let’s just hold a member drive on The Yard,” Val suggests, shrugging. “I see other clubs do it all the time. I know we’ve been on the down-low for safety reasons, but maybe it’s time to put our money where our mouth is.”
“There’s more safety in numbers,” Rashad agrees. “Therehaveto be more of us on campus.”
Neese listens as the others parry ideas back and forth, feeling both energized and out of her depth. If the university refused their first attempt to ratify their organization, wouldn’t continuing to meet and press for more members signify some sort of rebellion? Neese is far from the days of getting an irate phone call home to her parents for misbehavior, a consequence she associates with the petty mischief of high school, but would this rank proportionally higher in terms of on-campus misdeeds? Why is she so hung up on this, anyway? Shouldn’t she be more concerned with being a part of the larger movement that her brave schoolmates are leading than with her own family’s reaction to her being gay? How can she reorganize emotional priorities when fear has been a guiding factor for most of her life?
“What do y’all think?” Jordan asks, looking at her and CeCe, interrupting her increasingly panicked train of thought. “Aboutrecruiting younger students? Are there other things we should take into consideration?”
CeCe glances at Neese, looks around at the expectant faces. “Well…if this hasn’t been thought of already, maybe someone who’s good with words can write something forThe Hilltop.Like a personal essay?”
“An op-ed!” Cyrus snaps his fingers at CeCe, pleased. “Shit, a reported piece! We need all the press.”
“Why stop there?” Diamond wonders. “ThePostis right here. They were all over the march in October. Howard University suppressing Black gay students trying to organize and break new ground? Let’s give them the real low-down.”
There’s a momentary hush, another near-tangible shift as the weight of their shared endeavor triples. The silence is broken by the door opening: It’s Audrey, more wan and exhausted than Neese has ever seen her. Her brows furrow in confusion as she takes everybody in, and then her eyes fall on Neese, her expression softening.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, closing the door gingerly behind her. “What’s going on?” She glances at Blue and Cyrus. “Did you hear back from the dean?”
“Yes, and it was about what we expected,” Cyrus said. “Stop hovering, girl, sit down. We’re making plans. We’re not going out that easy.”
“You okay?” CeCe whispers as soon as Audrey brings a chair over to where she and Neese are seated. Audrey shakes her head, leans in to hug them both. Neese takes the liberty of holding her close for an extra second or two, trying not to be too obvious about inhaling that particular sweet and slightly nutty scent that she’d been dreaming of for the past two weeks—surprised to feel Audrey clinging just as tightly back.
Neese weathers Audrey’s silence over the next few days, even and especially during Language and Comp. Seated beside each other but not exchanging the small glances and notes that have been sustaining so much of their growing connection. She doesn’t quite understand what is going on with Audrey but imagines it has something to do with her visit home. She tells herself she won’t pry.
But the following week, Neese takes a wild leap of faith and sketches a small heart in the corner of her notes, then subtly slides the notebook in Audrey’s direction. Keeping her eyes squarely on their professor, Neese watches from her periphery as Audrey looks down, huffs a small almost-laugh, and then outlines the shape of the heart with her ballpoint pen, thickening the curved lines, slightly lengthening the points.
For now, it’s something.
Neese decides to show up at Audrey’s door with dinner the following night. She won’t press for any answers Audrey isn’t willing to share, but simple care and quiet company is something she’s more than happy to offer.
For all her boldness on the way over, as soon as Audrey opens the door, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, bleary-eyed and blinking in curious surprise behind thick glasses, Neese blanks on the smooth opening salvo she’d rehearsed for the past fifteen minutes.
“Hi?” Audrey says, shaking her head minutely in puzzlement, then noticing the trays stacked in Neese’s hands. “Um, what’s this?”
“Food. I thought maybe you—” Neese takes a breath. “Have you eaten?”
Audrey’s eyes find Neese’s again, and for the first time in a while, there is something like a smile, no less warm for its hesitance. “That’s so…You didn’t have to do that.” She leans againstthe door, drawing her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and regards Neese with such frank fondness that Neese can only shrug in agreement, her coherence momentarily scattered.
“Well.” She never wants Audrey to stop looking at her that way, but she can’t quite meet her eyes, either, warmth crawling up her neck. “Here I am. You don’t have to eat if you aren’t hungry,” she adds, as if anybody needs her permission to eat or not.
Thankfully, it’s this that splinters the tension, pulling a short laugh from Audrey as she eases off the door and opens it wider, gesturing Neese inside. Not much conversation follows, which doesn’t surprise Neese—Audrey is under deadline and obliged to return to her paper, and Neese has brought a textbook for some assigned reading—and still, seated side by side on the narrow bed, the quiet sounds of their chewing, pages turning, pen scratching paper, the occasional quick remark or shared smile: It’s a balm, this new unfurling, quiet and tender.
“Thank you,” Audrey whispers at their parting, into a tight embrace that leaves Neese weak-kneed and gooey. “I’m glad you came over.”
Neese presses in closer, sweeping a hand up and down Audrey’s back. “Of course.”
“When I went home,” Audrey begins haltingly, seemingly content to remain locked in Neese’s arms, resting her head against Neese’s shoulder, “my mother asked me straight up, during dinner, if I was…” Her voice grows quieter, nearly a whisper. “If I was a deviant. Her words. I’ve never seen her or my dad look at me like that before.”
Neese listens, focusing on continuing her hand’s soothing movements, sympathetic horror rising like bile in her throat.
“It was what I expected, but not when I expected.” Audrey groans softly, burying her face in Neese’s neck. “At least theydidn’t kick me out, I guess…And I’m sorry, if this is too much for you, I get it—”
“It isn’t,” Neese can’t help but interrupt, meaning it. “You can tell me whatever you want, whenever.”Let me hold the center.“You aren’t scaring me away.”
“Okay,” Audrey breathes. “If you’re sure.”
Neese nods, reveling in their closeness, breathing Audrey deep. She isn’t alone in this, maybe she never will be again. Their cheeks brush as they both hesitate to pull away, and like a moth to a flame, their lips find each other’s, moving slow and sweet. Neese pulls away, but only far enough to rest her forehead against Audrey’s, unwilling to push, sensitive to her tender pain. They breathe together that way for a little while, and then part. Despite the turmoil on Audrey’s behalf still roiling in her chest, Neese can’t be sure her feet touch the ground the entire walk back to her dorm.
The first Lambda Student Alliance member drive is an undeniable success.
