Ana's Vow

She didn’t know what she was doing until she had bitten her nails almost down to the bone. I couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as Giselle nipped at her cuticles, the aura around her more horrifying than I could explain in my mind. She needed a true distraction.

That night, I drink my first shot of alcohol. Giselle is beside me at the bar, crying into her hands, and I wish I could hug her as she hiccups. 

“A-Ana, what am I going to do?” she wails, her voice barely audible over the roar of the music around us. “My parents hate me now! They’ve practically disowned me!”

“What do you mean?” I blink. “Giselle, you told them you’re…?”

“Yes!” She crosses her arms. “I told them I’m gay! And now they hate me!”

“Why would they hate you? That’s ridiculous!”

“They want me to give them grandchildren, I guess…” Giselle sniffs, picking at the bandages on her fingers. “I just… I want to marry a girl and they think that that immediately makes me infertile. They told me that I cannot come into their household as long as I have… this disease.”

Despite Giselle and I having been roommates for a long time, my heart has never broken for her like this. She’s had boyfriends before, but I could tell she didn’t really like them.

“Come on, sweetheart.” I straighten my spine. “We’re going to get back at them for being such imbeciles.”

“You’re not going to hurt them, are you?” Giselle whimpers. Despite being 22, she’s still incredibly sensitive and balks at any form of violence, even when it comes from a place of good intentions. 

“No, no, of course not.” I look her over for a moment as I detect the fear in her tone. They made her cry. They won’t accept her for who she is. Like me. Giselle doesn’t know this, but I used to be judged as well. My church kicked me out when they found out I was part of the LGBT community and I joined a more accepting one when I turned 18. I’ve attended pride parades, but I am scorned by some who know me and the deeply religious. How can I tell my best friend since birth that it’s only going to get harder?

The bartender raises an eyebrow at me as he hands me the bill for mine and Giselle’s drinks. “Need me to call a cab for you two?”

“We can do it ourselves.” I pat Giselle’s shoulder and stand up. “Come.”

She pulls her messy auburn hair out of its ponytail as she unsteadily gets up from her chair. “I can drive.”

“We’ve both been drinking and are in no position to be on the road.”

Giselle scoffs. “You’re not my mother.”

“I’m a few months older than you.” I fight back the urge to add a joke to that sentence. “And I just want to keep you safe.”

“But Ana!” She rolls her eyes, but follows me out of the bar. Once I book an Uber driver for us, I pull Giselle close to me, rubbing her shoulder soothingly.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m not letting you go,” I coo, tousling her hair.

Look at me, acting like I’m in love with her. 

That single thought has me rattled. What the hell? I am a walking cliche if I’m even thinking about it. But I cannot get it out of my head. The way Giselle feels against my body, the way I tower over her, 5’11” to her 4’6”, her head pressed against the valley of my breasts, the smell of her lavender-scented conditioner…

Damn it, Ana!

I don’t realize until she yelps that I’m squeezing her like a lifeline, practically lifting my friend off her feet. Instead of trying to squirm away, she clings to me like a koala, almost weightless. For a moment, I want nothing more than to hold her forever.

Then I realize where we are and quickly put her down. “That’s enough, Giselle. You’ve had too many drinks.”

“No I haven’t!” she squeaks. “Look at the receipt. I only had two and I know my tolerance is higher. Why can’t I hug you?”

“Because…” I swallow. “Friends don’t hug each other for this long.”

Giselle sighs. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

“Why? You’re making this a bit weird for me.”

“It’s cliche, isn’t it?” she grumbles, unhooking herself from me. “Ana, your parents have always supported you and I’m the one who’s scorned. We’ve been best friends forever and you… you don’t feel like I do.” Giselle shakes her head. “Forget it. I’m going to a hotel.”

“We have an apartment.” The gears are turning in my head as I contemplate her logic. “Wait, you…”

Her chocolate eyes meet mine and I see tears in them once more. 

“Giselle…”

“Don’t, Ana.” She turns away. “Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you don’t feel this way, I’m fine with it. But don’t also expect that things will remain as they were.”

I’m paralyzed as the Uber I ordered pulls up and she takes it, forcing me to call another. I arrive home in a daze, unable to sleep. One way or another, I drift off and wake up the following morning with a massive headache. Giselle still isn’t home.

“What is going on with me?” I shout angrily, knowing full well no one could hear me. “Why am I so worried when I have feelings for her too?”

As if my outburst has triggered it, my phone suddenly rings. The number is unknown, but I pick it up anyway and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Is this Ana Ramirez?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“I am Giselle Kim’s father, Lucas. I would like to know if you would hand the phone to my daughter so I may speak to her.”

“She’s not here.” My eyes narrow unintentionally. “And I don’t know if she wishes to speak to you, what with how you’ve been treating her.”

His voice becomes a bit sharper. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean! You’ve been acting like she has a disease.”

“Oh, you’re talking about that homosexual phase she’s in?”

“It’s not a damn phase, Mr. Kim!” I feel my face grow hot. “She likes girls. Accept it. She loves girls and I love her.”

He huffs. “It’s only a phase. You’re merely confusing friendship for love.”

I hang up immediately, breathing heavily as one thought begins to circulate through my head. I have to find her. I have to. I need Giselle.

Even after firing off a text to her, she doesn’t answer and I rush to my car, almost tripping over my own feet.

My phone rings once more and I grit my teeth, ready to tell Giselle’s father off again, scream at him for daring to disrespect his only child…

It’s 911.

I freeze, breaking out into a cold sweat as I lift the phone to my ear. My family? My sister? My brothers? Did something happen to them?

“Ms. Ana Ramirez?” 

“This is she.”

“Are you the emergency contact of Ms. Giselle Kim?”

I could barely hold my phone as I hear what I dreaded to hear, that Giselle had been rushed into the hospital after being found with self-inflicted wounds.

And I know it’s my fault.

The old cliche.

But it’s not just a cliche anymore. I slowly begin to grasp that this is real, that Giselle likes me, that her parents won’t accept her for who she is, and that she wounded herself because there was no other way that pain could emerge. Giselle is too proud to admit to any of her friends that she struggles with her emotions and now, I’m the only one who can help her.

Not everyone’s story ends in a fairy tail, but maybe ours can.

The cold outside bites at my skin as I get in the car, thanks to the cursed Maine weather we always have, but I can’t think about it. I can only think about my best friend, who could become my girlfriend if she survives and I play my hand carefully. I can hardly breathe as I start driving, knowing that Giselle’s wounds are extensive and that if I don’t get there in time, I won’t even get to say goodbye to her if she dies.

I don’t know how much time it takes, but I only pay attention to the moment when I pull into the hospital parking lot, almost forgetting to lock my car before I rush in. “Giselle!” My vision blurs as tears form in my eyes.

“Ma’am, ma’am, please calm down…”

“No!” I turn on the nurse who’s appeared beside me, trying my best to stop shaking. “Where’s Giselle?”

“Giselle Kim? I just came from her room, but I don’t know if she’s yet cleared for visitors.”

“Please…” I take a deep breath to keep myself from breaking down right then and there. “I need her. If she’s dying, I at least need to say goodbye.”

“Fine, but…”

I’m gone from her side before she can say another word. Checking the receptionist’s list (it’s not important how legal it is), I find Giselle’s room and head in that direction, my heart beating so loud and fast I swear every patient in the hospital can hear. 

“Ana?”

I hear her before I see her and the scene steals the breath from my body. In truth, Giselle doesn’t look too bad, but her arms and torso are bandaged and she looks very weary.

“Oh, Giselle, I’m so sorry!” I rush to her and grab her hand tightly, kissing it with the gentlest of care. “I never should have drove you away!”

“Ana… I love you.” The pleading look in her eyes startles me. “Don’t leave me again.”

“Giselle, why? Why?”

“I couldn’t take it anymore. With the universe against me, your love is all I have left.”

“But I do love you. Don’t you see?” Cognisant of the breathing tube in her nose, I kiss Giselle’s cheek, tears beginning to show visibly. “I’ve loved you forever.”

“Liar.” She shudders. “You haven’t really loved me…”

I softly kiss her lips. Or I try to, anyway. I’ve never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, so I have no idea how to kiss. Instead, I end up landing a small peck on the corner of her mouth, making her giggle slightly at my attempt.

“Ana… you better not be playing with me.” Her face is serious. “You know I’ve been dangling by a thread. I’m not trying to force you into anything, but I need to know you actually want this.”

“Giselle, you’re my everything.” The words pour out like a waterfall and I need to say them. They feel like something I’ve needed to say forever and have been too cowardly and prideful to admit it. “Please don’t leave me. I need you. I couldn’t breathe when I found out you’d been hurt today and I almost crashed my car. Look… I love you.”

My face grows hot and almost instantly, I mentally kick myself for turning into the sap that every romance movie corker has used. But then that kick is reciprocated by a feeling of protectiveness, a feeling of not giving an F about what others think. I know I need her and I don’t care what it makes me.

“I love you,” I repeat.

It feels right.

And that is why I stand with you all today, to finally say it.

I turn to Giselle, in that beautiful white dress of hers.

“Ana Ramirez, do you take this woman, Giselle Kim, to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”