Farmgirl

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I wiped away my tears and inspected my reflection in the mirror. I looked relatively normal, and definitely not like I'd been sobbing for the last half hour. I tucked a curl behind my ear, smiled into the mirror, took a deep breath, and almost started crying again. Choking down the sob, I forced myself to not think about anything of what had just happened. Instead, I pulled a smile onto my face again, and went downstairs to see my grandma who had, in fact, showed up.

The minute I was off the bottom step, I was immediately enveloped into a hug. My grandma smelled like old fashioned perfume and baked goods. I was not surprised to glance over and spot a platter of cookies.

"Thanks for coming, Grandma," I said. She beamed at me. Soon we were seated, me, my mom, and my grandma. We began to eat, and made small talk the whole time. Grandma was my dad's father, so it was really nice of her to come over, even though Dad wasn't around anymore.

Throughout the appetizer and the entrée my mom kept glancing at me, as if asking me when I was planning on doing it. I bit my lip. I'd nearly forgotten I was planning on coming out to my grandmother. I groaned internally. I didn't need anymore emotional baggage today, but I doubted my grandmother would write me out of her will or something. Right before dessert came out, I spoke up.

"Grandma, I've got something to tell you," I said, immediately wishing I could take back the words. My mind went into panic.

"Yes, dear?" she asked, looking up at me.

"I - um, I - it's just that, ah, I like girls. And boys. I'm bisexual." There was a stunned silence. I felt the primeval instinct to flee the scene, run far away and never return. Grandma stared at me. My mom stared at her. Everyone was waiting for her reaction.

"Oh," she said, frowning slightly. I raised an eyebrow, sneaking a look at her. She looked puzzled. "So you like boys, as well, then?" She asked. I nodded slowly.

"Yeah, boys and girls, Grandma," I said hesitantly.

"Well, that's alright, then. Make sure you find yourself a nice respectable boy, when you grow up." My grandmother went back to eating her meal. Anger fizzled up inside me, but I forced it down.

"I'll go get the desserts," I said, and hurried out of the kitchen. I quickly went into the bathroom and locked the door. I gripped the edge of the sink, tears threatening to spill out of my burning eye. I let out a quick sob, then shut myself back up. I took a deep breath, double checked my reflection, and walked out.

Grandma left about an hour after dinner.

"Drive safe!" My mom called from the porch, then came in. Her cheeks were pink from being out in the cold for even a few minutes. I looked at her gloomily, my false happiness gone. She took one look at me before exclaiming that it was time to watch all the Thanksgiving holiday specials.

We settled ourselves on the couch, one giant bowl of popcorn between us. I sighed and covered myself in the warmest blanket I could find, trying to remind myself that the world wasn't over, and I could continue on with my life. But even later, as I got into bed, I couldn't shake the memory of Abigail's lips on mine, and the warm feeling it created in my stomach.

"Oh my god," Sierra said. It was Monday morning, and we were on the bus.

"I know," I said with a sigh, "I know, and it really sucks."

"But you kissed her? For real, an actual kiss, not on the cheek or anything?"

"Yes, Sierra, an actual for real kiss."

"And then you came to your senses."

"Something like that, yeah." I was embarrassed but I had told Sierra exactly what had happened Thursday afternoon.

"Wow..." Sierra murmured.

"Oh, yeah, and I came out to my grandma." Honestly, I'd almost forgotten. But not quite.

"Seriously? How'd that go?"

"She wasn't pissed, but she'd rather I marry a 'nice respectable boy' when I grow up." I grumbled.

"Ugh, sorry. Maybe you just should've told her you were a lesbian?"

"And then if I did end up marrying a guy, they'd all talk about how they knew it was "just a phase" and everything. Plus, I don't feel like hiding who I am."

"That's fair. Oh, hey, have you heard about the dance?" Sierra asked.

"The what?"

"Ooh, you haven't heard? The school's decided to have another dance this year, a little less formal than homecoming and prom, but not, like, casual, and anyway, it's gonna be a Winter Holiday dance, since obviously it can't be a Christmas dance, although essentially that's what it is."

"Really?" I asked. "I'll have to think about going, I guess." Sierra studied me, and decided to say no more.

The next two school days blurred by until rather suddenly it was Tuesday afternoon. I looked at the clock and realized it was two p.m. on Tuesday. Abigail had previously told me she was never around at two on Tuesdays, because that was when she cleaned out the chicken coop. I stared at the clock for another minute before grabbing my jacket and my bag and heading outside. I still needed to visit my beloved woods, even if I was trying to avoid the people on the other side.

I'd settled down in a cozy pile of leaves to begin sketching the tree in front of me when a voice behind me cleared their throat. I recognized the voice and panic flared up in my brain as I scrambled to stand up and face them.

"Andrew," I said. I couldn't force any joy into my voice.

"Meredith," he began. "I have something really important to tell you." I noticed one of his hands was behind back, trying to look casual, but I could see some flower petals peeking out from behind his shoulder. I grimaced.

"Andrew, I'm really not in the mood to hear-"

"Meredith, please, I've just got to tell you that I-"

"I know." I said. It came out harsher than I meant it to. I buried my head in my hands for a moment. "Look, Andrew, you're really nice and all, but I don't like you in that way, okay? I'm really sorry." I said. He stepped towards me, instinctively, I stepped back.

"Meredith, if you could just try, then, maybe-"

"Andrew, I'm sorry, I already broke my heart once this week, I'm not in the mood to jump into a relationship. Don't make yourself be my rebound or something. I am not interested." I said, close to yelling. Andrew looked slightly abashed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his face growing red. "Have these anyway," he said, thrusting the flowers towards me. They were all violets, my favorite flower, and I could almost appreciate the irony of being given flowers generally associated with lesbianism by a male. Almost.

"Andrew, really-"

"Just take them, please. I don't want them sitting around to remind me all day of..." Andrew didn't finish his sentence, thankfully. I wasn't sure what I wanted to hear. I took the flowers.

"I'm sorry," I said again, my voice small.

"I'll see you around," he said, turning away, and left. I stood there, alone, holding a slightly crushed bouquet of sapphic flowers, and an even heavier heart than before.

🍂🍂🍂

Andrew's heart was broken. There was simply no other way to put it. Although his father had always drilled into him that he should be an emotionless, strong man, what Andrew was feeling was definitely a strong emotion. He was heartbroken. He was upset, he was mad, he was resigned, and he didn't understand. He was sure if he'd just plucked up the courage to ask, it would've gone fine. He'd never really thought of what she'd answer. He'd always thought they'd had chemistry and all. He was always just so worried about finding the courage to ask, he never thought about the consequences of asking until they were staring him in the face.

Andrew locked himself in his room and sat on his bed. The sun was going down, and his room growing dark, but he didn't care. Under the cover of darkness, he could finally cry.