Someone Willing to Stay

They Should Shower

     Riley finds me standing in the middle of the school's now empty parking lot. She had to stay after for Debate club, practice lasts for two hours. I've been standing in this spot for two hours. My arms are crossed over my chest, I'm shaking, and there are tear stains covering my cheeks.
     "Ni-Ni? What's wrong, what's going on?" She puts her hand in my shoulder and turns me toward her, but I can't speak. I can't tell her what's wrong.
     I can't tell anyone anything. I'm pathetic. They wouldn't understand anyway. They wouldn't get how I need Adam in my life, we've all been given the speech about speaking against violence in the home. They wouldn't get how I'm so afraid to even breathe the wrong way in fear that they'd all leave me.
     "Ni-Ni, snap out of it, we have to go to Claire's. She's having some kind of crisis."
     It's five o'clock. I'm an hour late. Adam will kill me. But Claire needs me.
     "I lost my keys." I whisper.
     Riley holds them in front of my face along with my backpack, "I was grabbing some gum from your locker and I noticed you forgot everything. What would you do without me?"
     I take the items from her hand and she pushes me towards my car, "Let's go save Claire."
I shake my head, trying to get myself back together. My friend needs me. I can't keep focusing on my problems. I can't keep being selfish.
Riley is already in her car starting the ignition, so I do the same.
      I follow her dark green Chevy down the road, focusing on the license plate. Focusing on keeping my distance to avoid a collision. I should be keeping my distance.
     Claire lives maybe five minutes away from the school. Although all three of us make fun of the families who live on Yellow Brick Road, Claire is just as well off. Her house is amazing, although she doesn't appreciate the mile long driveway she has to walk down to check the mail. It has three stories, six bedrooms, three bathrooms.
     She doesn't even notice how much her money impacts her lifestyle, which is a good thing I guess.
     Riley and I get out of our cars simultaneously and run up to the pillared porch, not even ringing the doorbell before barging in.
     We don't have to marvel at the linoleum flooring or winding staircase, we've seen it dozens of times. We run up the stairs and down the hall way, bursting into Claire's bedroom.
      Peach colored walls, covered in pictures of Riley and I, her parents and her, and posters of too many different celebrities to count.
     She's pacing around her room, passing her walk in closet without opening it for Riley to go through like normal, and walking by her canopy bed where she normally sits to watch Netflix on her laptop.
     "Claire?" I ask.
     "I'm normal. I'm normal, right? I'm a decent amount of stupid, the perfect amount of blonde, and my parents give me everything I ask for. I'm normal." She mumbles.
     I look at Riley who shrugs.
     "I don't have any secrets because," she looks up at me and Riley, "I tell everything to you two. Except one thing. One thing I haven't told you since I was like seven. I've keeping this from you since I was seven."
     She breathing heavily, still walking back and forth across her room.
     "I can't keep this from you, but I have to because you'll think I'm weirder than everyone else already does. And I know how weird they think I am."
     "Claire"
     "But I'm Catholic! I can't have this secret and be Catholic. I can't." Her voice breaks and she stops with her back turned to us.
      "I can't have this secret anymore. I need it to go away." She sobs.
     I walk up to her, putting putting my arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer to me.
     She breaks down in sobs, "I'm normal."
     "What's wrong, Claire? You know you can tell us everything." Riley asks softly.
     "You won't look at me the same."
     "Claire, no matter what," I smile, "you will always be a stupid, blonde, normal, Catholic to us."
     She laughs and wipes away her tears.
     "What's wrong?"
      Claire takes a deep breath and steps away from me.
      "I like boys. I mean I like them, but I don't. I like to talk about them because that's normal. But I don't like looking at their abs or sweaty skin, that's not hot, that's gross, they should shower-"
     "Claire!"
     "I'm gay!"
For a moment no one says anything, no one even breathes. Claire is biting her lip in anticipation. Riley is standing there with her mouth open. And I've never been more relieved.
Claire is gay. She's not dying, she's not moving to a different continent.
"You like boobs," I laugh, "that's it? You don't have cancer or need surgery in your brain? You like boobs."
She looks at me, Riley shuts her mouth, and all three of us burst out laughing.
I'm holding my stomach, my ribs are aching, and Riley is snorting, Claire has fallen on the floor rolling around on the white carpet.
I lay down next to her once she stops and Riley lays down on the other side of her.
"I like boobs." Claire says.
"You like boobs." Riley confirms.
And everything is okay. We'll get through it together.
      I gasp and turn my head to look at her, "Do you like Danielle?"
     "Who's Danielle?" Riley asks.
      "It's Robert's sister. And she just so happens to like boobs also. Especially mine." Claire smirks.
We all laugh again.
"So does this mean we can't talk about how hot the Supernatural cast is anymore?" Riley asks.
"No, they don't count as gross sweaty boys," Claire clarifies, "they're gorgeous men. Who also like hot girls."
My best friend is a lesbian. And I've never been more relieved.
She has a secret too. A secret that could change her life, but she told us. And we're still lying on the floor talking about Supernatural. We're okay.
Secrets don't always tear apart lives.
"I'm glad you told us, Claire." I say, reaching for her hand and holding it in mine.
She squeezes it.
"Me too."
"Claire, what do you think of my boobs?"
"Riley!"