Rosie's Diary

I Will Not Hate Myself

January 15, 2000 - 4:17 am

I am gonna keep saying this.

I. WILL. NOT. HATE. MYSELF.

Yes, I'm in love with June. Yes, sometimes I think the feeling is mutual. Yes, we were drunk again tonight. But she....

Okay, tonight at the party she tried to kiss me and I stopped her like an idiot.

LIKE AN IDIOT!

I just got home and even though it's 4 in the morning, I can't begin to think about sleeping. You don't know how many times in the past few months I've come here to share and then chickened out. I've been scared to think about it, sometimes even crying at weird times like in the middle of class. But when I stopped June from kissing me tonight, the tiniest voice in my head said, You're gonna start hating yourself. It was the same little voice from my birthday night. And I immediately was like, NO I won't. But...I think I already hate myself a little bit. So I'm gonna be brave and admit ALL the shit I've been holding in. Here goes.

I can't be in love with June. Because of Aunt Conny. . .

When I was little I saw AC almost every single day of my existence, even if she dropped by the house just to say hello. The only time Aunt Conny wasn't around was for a week at the end of spring, and as a kid, I knew when this week was coming instinctually. I'm sure it was because I sensed AC's excitement. Even though I was only 4 or 5 I remember her getting . . . I dunno, rambunctious, like she was about to get a surprise.

And so, when I felt the week approaching, I would say to AC, "Are you going to leave us and be happy soon?" Aunt Conny would give me a big smile, then wink at me and say, "Yeah, baby," real low like Barry White, and I'd smile back, feeling good 'cuz I knew she was gonna be happy. Every year it was the same.

Now, when I was 8, I had this bird named Whitley Gilbert. And AC was the only one comfortable with me letting Whitley fly free. We'd take her into my room and Whitley would hop on the bed and the bookcases, exploring all levels of the room, stretching her wings wide, enjoying her temporary freedom. Mama wouldn't dare touch Whitley. She said, "Birds are beautiful, but dirty creatures." And I didn't want Daddy anywhere near her because I was certain he'd squeeze her too hard. But AC would pluck Whitley from her perch with such care. That little bird would chirp and hop around on AC's hand like they were best friends. Wow . . . it's crazy I remember that.

Okay, so on this particular day we're hanging out in my room letting Whit fly around. And AC is full of laughter and I sense her happy week is coming. But I make a mistake. I wait until we are all sitting together at dinner to say anything.

"Hey, Aunt Conny? Are you going to leave us and be happy soon?" Dinner crashes into silence. The refrigerator seems to be the only living thing in the house and it hums with the satisfaction of finally being heard. Mama stares at me as Daddy's eyes burn a hole into AC's forehead. His face is . . . I don't know how to describe it exactly. He's not himself anymore. AC stares right back at him, but she looks . . . wounded. She looks physically hurt. We all sit there in the horrible moment that feels like forever.

Then AC looks at me, but like, turns her chair to look right into my face. She says, "Yes, I go on vacation every end of Spring, baby. That's all." She bumps her forehead to my forehead. And usually I love a good forehead bump, but I don't let it distract me. I understand she is pretending to be okay when actually she's afraid.

Confusion buries me alive. If she was just going on vacation every year, why hadn't we talked about them before? Every time me, Daddy and Mama drove down to San Diego we gave her a full report. So why hadn't I heard anything about hers? And more importantly, what on earth was Aunt Conny afraid of?

Of course, this traumatizing family event is never spoken about again, which is absolutely the healthiest way to deal with it. Syke!

CUT TO: Next Spring. I think Aunt Conny's vacation is coming but I don't have verbal confirmation. Whitley Gilbert is dead (a sudden tragedy, the details of which HAVE YET to be explained to me), so AC and I aren't spending any time together in my room like we used to. I'm certain we have to be alone before I can ask and every time I build up the courage to whisper in her ear I panic at Mama's sudden appearance. The more I want to know about the vacation, the more Mama seems to be watching us. I am beside myself worrying I won't be able to ask about it. I believe it's my duty to ask, and if I don't, it will all fall apart and AC won't get her week of happiness.

At long last, I get my chance in the backyard. Kippy (Whitley's replacement) is still a puppy-- all paws and no brains, licking and sniffing. AC drops by and as soon as she comes outside to play with me and Kip I know my time has come. Kip is already in her arms and she's wrestling with him, trying to keep his wet tongue from grazing her lips. With all the desperation a 9-year-old can muster, I crawl the 2 feet across the grass to AC and whisper my burning question in her ear. "Are you going to leave us and be happy soon?"

AC pulls back grinning and winks. "YEAH BABY!" It's the loudest she's ever said it. Deep voice booming into the silence of the summer afternoon. And we start laughing, full on, belly shaking, laughter with Kippy falling over himself between us, trying to join in on our fun.

Mama comes to the screen door and asks what we're laughing about. I look at AC and she says without taking her eyes from mine, "Kippy farted!" Then we both burst into laughter again. It's heaven right there in our backyard. Me, Aunt Conny and Kippy.

Of course, I'm cheerier than ever after getting the question off my chest. Things were forever settled and the world was as it should be. She stays for dinner and everything is normal. When we're done, I tell Mama and Daddy goodnight and give AC a forehead bump. "Remember everything about your happy vacation so you can tell me, okay?" We aren't at the table with my parents, but one of them must have overheard me. I go to bed and everything seems okay until I get up later to get a glass of water. I'm in the hallway when I hear Daddy say at the kitchen table, " . . . and if she still chooses to burn in hell, going on trips with this friend of hers, so be it. My conscious is clear."

And Mama goes, "Um hm," in her disapproving of what some of the girls wear to church way.

Daddy says, "I told Constance her relationship with this family would be one of God or nothing at all, and she chose the devil."

I tiptoe back to bed, parched, literally thinking AC had started following Satan.

*          *          *

(◕ˬ◕✿)

To all my fellow lezzies, gays, queers, pans, aces, transqueens, kings & everyone in between. I see you. <3

Twitch: twitch.tv/heyjaiem

Podcast: creative4evr.com/listen

Rosie's Diary. Copyright © 2013 Jai//Em

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.