Mark My Words

30 | Awkward...

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"So... Lieutenant Spencer is actually a woman?" Sami said the next morning, Starbucks straw centimeters from his lips. He turned to look at Rosalie, eyes narrowed. "That seems like a weird thing to hide."

"I wouldn't say she was hiding it," she insisted, and looked awkwardly to the side with a shrug. "She just... didn't correct anyone. I don't think it's that weird."

"It's weird, Rosalie."

"Okay, but that's just because gender is important to you and I guess it's important to me, too. So yeah it'd seem weird at first," she insisted.

"You're starting to sound like Joanna, no offense," Sami snorted, and took a sip of his Starbucks. He shook his head and lowered the cup to his cupholder. The red light turned green then, and he started the car forward with a soft jolt. Rosalie frowned at the windshield.

It was difficult hiding those things from Sami, because next thing she knew, Sami was rolling his eyes with a sigh. "I'm not trying to undermine your crush or whatever," he said.

"I know. And I think it's important to be honest about what you think of Joanna," she said.

"Why, 'cause you plan on dating her?" he said, and Rosalie didn't say anything. "Is this you just not correcting people?"

"Sami..." she groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead. She could feel the argument starting, and the heat of getting worked up swelled red against her cheeks. She puffed them out in frustration and let out a deep, annoyed sigh.

"I mean, I asked you what you thought of Isaiah—"

"Well, I don't really know the guy, and you don't know Joanna, so can we just leave it at that?" she said. Each word felt like venom on her tongue, and she could feel the numbness spread to her fingertips. She sucked down a mouthful of iced coffee as Sami pulled into the Bradshaw parking lot.

The moment he pulled up, Rosalie went to escape, but he punched the lock button. When she unlocked it, the door clicked shut on her again.

She whipped around to tell him off, but stopped at the dreadful look on Sami's face. She withered instantly, shrinking in her seat. The heat swelled in her face further, but it felt worse this time. It felt like shame.

"We've never fought about this before," he said.

"That's because we've never been interested in anyone before," she remarked, wishing she could make the words cut. They came out soft-spoken and timid, because she didn't want this argument to fester any longer. "I like Isaiah. You know I do."

"Yeah. And honestly if you said he gave off shitty vibes I'd listen to you, but you aren't listening to me," he said.

"It's different—"

"How is it different—"

"Because I like guys and girls. I get Isaiah as boyfriend material. You don't get to say you understand Joanna as girlfriend material," she said.

"Gender has nothing to do with it, Rosalie—"

"It does, doesn't it?"

"No, because if a guy did the things Joanna did, I'd think he was a self-centered social justice asshole."

"You don't get to call feminists social justice assholes. If Joanna thinks someone's stepping out of line she calls them out. Why is that a bad thing?"

"It's weird, you know? Like, why start fights about that shit? It just makes everyone uncomfortable."

"What's wrong with feeling uncomfortable if it's the right thing to do?"