we will carve our place
into time and space
we will find our way
or we'll make a way
e l e v e n
Rosa and I are modelling clothes in the dressing room of one of our favourite clothing stores. I missed this. It feels like years since the last time we did a day out.
"What are you wearing to the concert?" she asks, which is her way of indirectly saying Aaron told her I agreed to go.
"Um," I say, turning around in the dress I'm currently wearing. The skirt has a subtle flare, falling mid-calf. Classy. Something to wear to dinners with family friends.
Rosa is in her own jeans, and trying on tops. She tugs at the straps of the crop top, pulling a face when they dig into her shoulders again after she lets go.
"I think you'll get to meet Tristan before it starts," she says. "You, Alex, Rohan, and the other one. I don't know her."
I'm a little bit giddy at the prospect of meeting t r i s t a n m a l l o r y, if i'm being honest.
"He's a real sweetheart, my cousin" she says fondly.
"I thought he's Aaron's cousin," I say.
She makes an affronted sound. "Technicalities. We're all family!"
Oh, Rosa. "Right."
"So," she says, her tone less jovial. "Is your family still... I mean, about Aaron."
I sigh. "Yeah. Yours?"
She nods.
Both our families have... certain criteria for any boyfriends or girlfriends brought in. Specifically, similar cultural and religious backgrounds.
"I don't want that to be such an important thing," I say. "But it is, to them. I don't understand why."
Pushing boundaries. Without pushing boundaries, change did not occur. And without change, there was no progress.
She smiles at me, a little sadly. "I know what you mean."
And I remember the day she'd told me she was bisexual.
YOU ARE READING
green light
Short StoryOn depression, and recovery. ❝Perhaps this is our kingdom, perhaps our crowns are the green specks of light that fall into our hair. And perhaps this is our fantasy, and perhaps we have no crowns but collars, collars that bind us to our differences...
