Solidarity

“Five minutes!” Mel called, both to those who could hear her backstage and over headset. A chorus of “thank you, five” returned to her.

“Thanks, Anteater,” Steven said over headset. They’d all given each other nicknames on headset. Mel was fond of hers. It had even come with an opening night gift from Steven of a stuffed ant (Mel suspected an actual anteater stuffed animal would be hard to find). She and Steven had become fast friends. Mel was a few years ahead of Steven, so they didn’t have any classes together, but they both loved theatre. “A gay man and a lesbian, a match for best friends made in heaven,” she thought. Steven told Mel that coming out was easier after seeing how out and happy Mel was and how beloved she was by the theatre department. That had warmed her heart and inspired a joke between them. Anytime they saw each other in the hallway, they shouted, “Women who love women and men who love men solidarity!” and high-fived each other. She loved having queer friends. For a high school theatre department, they had shockingly few queer kids. Or at least openly so. It severely limited her dating options, but she was just happy being with her friends. Not having a girlfriend didn’t bother her.

Mel called places and a nervous hush fell over the actors and crew members, if not the audience yet. She turned on her headset so that everyone could hear her. “Break a leg, everyone. It’s been an honor working with you.” 

“You dying or something, Mel?” the lighting crew head asked in her ear. 

“No, just sappy. Maybe I’m menstruating. Or maybe,” she turned so she was facing away from the actors backstage, a modicum of privacy preserved to just the headset group, “I just love you all.”

“Mel and all of us, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” the stage manager Fred sang. 

“Can we get this show on the road?” 

“Yes, Ms. Crenshaw,” Mel said, a little embarrassed. “Everyone ready?” When everyone had given the okay, she announced, “Let’s start. Fred, do the announcement to the audience.”

Though Fred’s voice cracked horribly when telling the audience to silence their cell phones, the first act of the show went off without a hitch. The audience laughed and clapped at all the appropriate times and their energy spurred on the actors. It was a sight to see. She wanted to share it with Steven. 

She had to make a big set change during intermission and didn’t have time to go up to the lighting booth. Just before she finished, she saw Steven come through the stage left door, looking nervous. She let Sonia take the last chair onstage and went to Steven. “Are you all right?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.” She had never seen Steven look this nervous.

“Now? Two minutes before act two? I mean, hold on, that’s not very supportive. If it’s important, of course I want to hear it.”

Steven leaned in and whispered, “I’m a lesbian,” in her ear. Before Mel could say anything, Steven turned and ran out the door, presumably back to the light booth. By the time Mel got her headset back on, Steven sounded cheery and unaffected, making a joke about the show’s lackluster act two opener. She got out her phone, “I’m sorry, what was that?” she typed. No response before the places call and Mel had to ensure everyone was in the right spot. 

Was this a solidarity thing? An extension of the women who love women line? Mel didn’t think Steven was the type to throw around something like that for a laugh. Sure, they’d all partaken in thespian/lesbian jokes, but Steven had been too genuinely nervous for this to be a joke. 

Maybe “lesbian” was just code for “likes women.” But even then, liking women didn’t make Steven a lesbian. Unless…

“Oh!” she texted Steven.

“Yeah,” she texted back. “Pretty much.”

Mel knew she was busy and couldn't text much during act two, but it was hard to not think about all of the questions she had. Was she the first to know? Did she want to go by a different name? She'd been switching Steven's pronouns to "she" and "her" when she thought of her, but was that even correct? She'd always liked men before so was she a lesbian or bisexual or something else? Mel thought it was probably best that the show was going on to keep her from bombarding Steven with all these questions at once, but as soon as the curtain came down on the end of act two, Mel cheered with the group as they came off (an opening night tradition) and then raced to the light booth. She had family coming today, but they could wait.

She entered the light booth and found Steven sitting on the floor, looking melancholy. She slunk down to the floor to join her. She wondered what question she should ask first. Instead, she said, "I'm a lesbian too."

"Yes, Mel, I know. We're very clear on that. And I don't know, maybe I'm bi. I've liked men before but..."

"You like women," she ventured.

"Yeah."

"So do I."

"Uh huh," Steven said, the slightest hope in her voice. Mel prayed she knew what that hope was for.

"Look, I had an 'Oh!' moment when I realized what you were telling me. But then I had another 'Oh!' moment when I realized something else."

"What's that?" Steven asked. Mel knew she was dragging this out, but she also didn't want to rush the moment.

"Will you go on a date with me?"

"What?" Steven said under her breath. Not like she was unhappy, but like she couldn't believe Mel had asked. "Are you just saying that because we're both women who love women?"

"No," Mel said flatly. "I'm saying this because...because I think I've had blinders on. I think I've had a crush on you for some time, I just didn't realize you were an option. But once you told me you were a woman, it clicked. My feelings for you have been not-so-platonic, I just ignored it. Until now. And I don't want to ignore it anymore. So, will you go on a date with me?"

"Yes," Steven said, breaking into the sweetest smile Mel had ever seen. "Women who love women solidarity?"

"Women who love women solidarity," she said, but took Steven's hand in hers instead of high-fiving her. This was better.