The Battle of Love

I came out to my dad yesterday. A southern boy, growing up in Kansas, he'd worked in the fields since he was six. His dad beat him with a whip whenever he misbehaved. He went to church weekly but prayed daily. He'd briefly gone to school, but had dropped out when money was tight. And now, he was single, my mom having left him when I was four.

I've been in love with her--Maria--for a few years. Ever since my crush on her began in sixth grade, I'd known that I'm gay. I'd never have thought that she was, too. And especially not that she liked me--an average girl with above average intelligence and a love of all things English.

We'd been talking a bit on the first day of sophomore year about school (Which teachers do you have?) and boys (Who do you like?). We both admitted that we've never had a crush on any boy ever. I told her of my profound hatred of their stink, their manners, and their crudity. I left out my gay-ness.

Maria nodded. We were in-between classes, so we had to part.

"See you at lunch?" Maria asked.

"See you then." I replied, trying to play it cool. Internally, I was jumping up and down, my own version of a happy dance on repeat. 

All through fourth period science, I daydreamed about Maria--about her smile, her laugh, her extroverted personality. When my new teacher, Ms. Kowzacki (or was it Komacki?) asked me to get the textbooks for everyone in the class, I didn't hear her speak. Instead, I was off in a different world--a world with Maria.

"What are you smiling about, Ms." she looked down at her list. "Brassard?"

I wiped the grin off of my face. "Nothing. I was just, uh, thinking about. Never mind." I shook my head quickly, as if to rid all thoughts of Maria from my mind.

"It must have been very interesting to interrupt a lecture on how to properly behave in my class." Ms. Kowzacki (?) said. "You already broke rule number one--pay attention to what I say."

The class snickered, glad for someone else to be the target of Ms. Kowzacki's mighty rage.

Class was dismissed a few minutes later, and it was finally, finally time for lunch. With Maria!

I grabbed my backpack and raced to the other side of the school. I groaned as I saw the huge, winding lunch line. It went past the salad bar, around the stage (Our school didn't have a budget for a separate cafeteria and auditorium, so we had a cafetorium.), by the windows, and ended up smack dab in front of the entry doors.

I was preparing to spend my lunch period waiting for sustenance when I heard my name.

“Grace? Grace!” I tracked the shout to straight ahead. A waving hand accompanied the voice.

“Maria!” I yelled back. 

“Come here!” I could barely hear her through the chatter of a couple hundred high schoolers, but her pointing--first to me and then to herself--clued me in.

“Coming!” I hiked my backpack higher up on my shoulders, wiped my sweaty hands, and bumped a few angry teenage boys as I made my way over to Maria.

“Hey,” she smiled when I reached her. “How does the front of the line feel?”

“Great. Thanks.” I said. I meant to say, So much better than the back. And I love the wait time! But monosyllabic words were my only response.

When we finally got the food, Maria and I talked and talked. It was mostly her doing the speaking and me doing the nodding, but I was able to add in a few words every so often.

When lunch ended, I could tell that we were both disappointed to have to separate.

“See you tomorrow.” Maria said, waving goodbye.

“See you.” I grinned.

Three weeks later and I had yet to admit my feelings for her. It was after school, and Maria had invited me over to her house for study time. We had big tests coming up in half our classes, and neither of us wanted to fail then.

I arrived home half an hour after dismissal from school. As I walked upstairs to my bedroom, Maria texted me, Be there in an hour. My older sister’s driving. 

I shot back a quick reply, then raced over to my closet. I wasn’t very fashion-conscious, but even I knew the basics. I grabbed jeans, a comfortable t-shirt--devoid of text--, and my makeup palette. I used it to apply a variety of shades to mimic my skin tone, then dabbed on concealer for my recent breakout, and ended with a rosy lipstick, which I had found under my bed a few minutes before.

I spent the next hour pacing around my room, too nervous to sit down. By the time Maria’s sister drove up, with Maria in the front--a few minutes after her promised time--I was a wreck. If not for her sister’s nearness, I would have kissed her right then. And then I would have run away out of embarrassment. 

I wanted to sprint over to Maria, but I knew that I couldn’t; it would be too obvious. Instead, I walked over to the car, attempting to slow the pace of my heart. The car ride was about five minutes long, but it felt like five seconds. All too soon, I was at Maria’s house, and it was time to study. With her. Alone.

As I exited the car, my heart began to race out of extreme nervousness and anticipation. 

“Let’s go,” Maria told me as her sister drove away.

I nodded. Speaking was impossible.

As Maria opened the door to her house and I entered, her parents greeted me with warm smiles. “How nice to meet you, Grace.”

“Thank you, Mr. and Ms. Garcia.” I could easily talk to them, but with Maria it was as if my tongue refused to form words.

They both smiled at me, grins stretching from ear to ear. “Such a pleasant friend.” Her mom said to her dad.

I smiled. “Such pleasant parents.”

We left the foyer, and Maria urged me upstairs. I was going to see her room!

She gave me a quick tour. Her room was simple but elegant. Lace curtains hung in front of her windows; the walls were painted a pale yellow; she had two twin beds, both with light blue comforters. Unlike my own, hers was messy; her phone was unplugged from its charging dock; her closet doors were open, revealing a department store’s worth of clothes; she had a makeup set on her desk, tubes and compartments falling out. I didn’t mind; in fact, I loved it. It seemed so Maria: beautiful but disorganized.

As I finished admiring her room, I realized that I had failed to remember my studying essentials. “Maria! I forgot my textbooks.” I groaned, face in hands.

“That’s totally fine,” Maria assured me. “I’ve got some spares.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much!”

She smiled at me, tucking a stray hair back into formation. “Come on, let’s study.”

“Okay,” I grinned. I was spending time with my crush, here, in her room!

After settling down, books in hand, we spent hours studying. It was more of talking, really, which was fine by me. I already knew the subject material as it was. By the time we got around to English, my heart was pounding incredibly hard. I hoped that Maria couldn’t hear.

“Between you and I, this is my favorite study session ever.” Maria admitted.

“It’s actually ‘between you and me,’” I corrected, smirking slightly.

“You are so cute,” She said, grinning.

Just as I was about to reply, she leaned in, her face close to mine. By this point, my heart was beating so intensely that I thought it would rip out of my chest. If it had, I would’ve handed it to Maria with an I love you note attached.

With a tilt of her head, she asked me if I was okay with being kissed. I nodded, giving my consent. She leaned in closer and closer. As our lips met, I felt a burst of electricity, like I had been struck by a bolt of lightning. If so, then it was the prettiest, most beautiful lightning in the world.

I felt a sense of urgency as her plump lips touched mine. I wanted more. As if I was controlled by an outside force, I aggressively kissed her, my teeth nipping her cheek in the process. Surprised, she startled for a second, but quickly kissed me back with even more force than I had. It was a show of strength, my mouth against hers. We fought for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds, a battle of love. By the time we pulled away, breathless, faces flushed, we had ended in a tie. 

We giggled simultaneously, unable to look at each other. As we began to return our gazes to each other, our conversation returned.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Maria said.

I laughed. “I thought it was obvious.”

And with that, we kissed again. It was lighter, softer this time and ended quicker than before. Like earlier, our faces were flushed, but this time, it felt as if we had been kissing for forever. It felt natural and seamless.

Incredibly comfortable with each other, we talked for hours, laughing every so often, the textbooks forgotten. It was a glorious day, something I’d hold in my memories forever--and not just because it was my first kiss. There was something about Maria that was so wonderful; that pulled me to her, like she controlled all of the gravity in the world.

*

Our relationship had been going on for a couple of months. We’d kissed, talked, laughed, and kissed some more. Everything was wonderful; Maria was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

As we were walking home from school, Maria stopped.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Oh, it’s just, um…” I’d never seen Maria so nervous. She was calm and collected all of the time. “Do you, uh, want to come over and have dinner with my parents today?”

“Today? Wow!” I thought about it some more. “Would we tell them, you know, about us?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I think they already know, but I’d rather tell them directly.”

“Cool, cool,” I said, attempting nonchalance. “Ok, fine. I’m really nervous.”

“About telling them?” Maria asked. I nodded. “Would a kiss calm your nerves?” I nodded again.

She leaned in, and I did, too. Our mouths brushed each other, then sank deeper and deeper. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. It was glorious. When we split apart, I took a breath, allowing air to go back into my lungs.

“That was amazing.” I told her.

She laughed. “Now how do you feel?”

My only response was taking her hand as we walked down the street.

A couple of hours later, it was time for dinner with her family.

I was at my house and she was at hers.

I heard a ping. Ready? 

I’m so nervous, but let’s do this! I replied.

Look out the window, she told me.

I did so. Outside my bedroom window was my wonderful Maria, flowers in hand.

I gasped, then raced downstairs and exited the house. Luckily for me, I had already dressed, thank goodness.

“These are for you,” she said, handing the bunch of flowers over to me.

“Thank you so much!” I gasped again. These were roses, the flower of love.

“I knew you loved them, just like I love you.” Maria responded.

I nodded happily and we began to walk to her house. The next half hour was long and short at the same time. I was nervous about meeting Maria’s parents, but anything with her felt like it had only lasted a few minutes.

“Welcome, Grace. A friend of Maria is a friend of mine.” Maria’s mom said warmly as we walked inside.

Spaghetti and meatballs were on the table, along with garlic bread and Caesar salad. Silverware was placed in front of each spot.

“Come sit, girls,” Maria’s dad said as he took off his apron.

We did. The meal was wonderful. We talked for over an hour. By then, I could see that both Maria and I were very nervous. She whispered now in my ear as her parents announced that dessert would be coming out shortly.

“Mom, Dad,” Maria said, gulping. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yes, honey?” Maria’s parents--whom I’d found out were named Peggy and Robert-- winked at each other. “What is it?”

I squeezed Maria’s hand under the table.

Maria paused for a bit, then blurted out, “I’mgayandsoisGraceandshe’smygirlfriend.”

“I know, sweetie.” Peggy said, and Roberto smiled.

“You...you do? I mean I thought you might but I wasn’t sure.” Maria said.

“I’ve known for a while now,” said her mom.

“And you’re...you’re okay with us?” On the last word, Maria’s voice raised an octave higher than normal.

“Of course,” her mom responded. “Grace is an amazing girl, and I’m so grateful that I have a daughter with such a wonderful girlfriend.”

Her dad chimed in. “I love you and whomever you love. I am so lucky to have you as my daughter.”

“Thank you,” Maria and I said simultaneously.

“Jinx!” we blurted, laughing.

And with that, our conversation returned to how it was before. Throughout dessert and afterwards, Maria and I gave little I love you hand squeezes to each other.

By the time dessert ended and after we’d cleared our plates, I had to say goodbye to Maria.

At the front door, we said our goodbyes. 

“Wait,” Maria said, stopping me before I left her house. “Don’t you want a goodbye kiss?”

I grinned, and then we kissed. It was a wonderful sensation, being free and open around others. Our kiss was long; it was short; it was fast and it was slow; it was Maria, and it was me; it was us, together.

By the time our kiss ended, I had to get back to my house. 

“See you soon!” I told Maria.

“See you,” she smiled.

And with that, I walked home, the biggest grin stretching from one side of my face to the other.

*

Let’s tell him, I texted Maria a few days later.

Without me having to say who “him” was, Maria texted back, Does tomorrow work? It’s a Saturday.

Sounds great, I told her. I’m going to say that you’re just a friend coming over for dinner.

Okay, Maria responded. But we’ll be fully out tomorrow.

If everything goes well.], I replied.

I’m sure it will. :) Maria texted back.

It was hard for me to sleep that night, my thoughts racing. If all went well, it would be the best day ever. But if it failed--if my dad didn’t accept me for who I was--then the day would be ruined. After several hours of tossing and turning, I eventually went into a dream-like state and was able to get some much-needed rest.

I was so exhausted that I woke up at noon the following day. My dad and I didn’t talk all day, but it didn’t matter to me. I knew that today was going to be great. I could feel it in my heart.

By the time dinner rolled around, I had spent hours picking out the right outfit--casual but not too casual--and the right makeup--pretty but not overdone.

Maria arrived promptly at 6:00--a first! My dad instructed us to sit down, and he set the food on the table. Maria and I laughed--it was spaghetti and meatballs, just like at her house. It felt to us like a good omen; we knew that this dinner was going to go just as well as the last.

We spent hours talking. My dad was quiet, like always, but I could tell that he enjoyed our communication. When dinner ended and plates were cleared, Maria squeezed my hand as if to say, It’s time.

I was nervous, but I knew that this was the right moment. It was now or never.

“Hey dad?” I called.

“Yeah?” He wondered, answering from the kitchen.

“Would you, uh, mind coming back to the table?” I asked him.

“Not now, but in a few minutes,” he replied.

“Please,” I begged. “It’s urgent.”

Thirty seconds later he was sitting at our dining room table. 

“What did you want to tell me?” He questioned.

Right then, my heart started pounding. It was almost like Maria had a sixth sense, and she squeezed my hand under the table. I felt better immediately. My heart was still racing, my palms were slick with sweat, and I was still incredibly nervous, but it was much improved.

“Dad, I-I have something to tell you.” I said. He urged me on with a nod. “Maria is my girlfriend.”

My dad’s face turned beet-red. “What did you say?” It was rhetorical, so I didn’t answer. Instead, I shrank backwards. “My daughter, a dyke! Get out! Now! And stay out!”

I scrambled backwards, taking Maria’s hand. I knew that my dad meant it. He always meant what he said.

When we got outside the house and walked past a few others, I broke down in tears. 

“Maria, I’m homeless. He won’t let me back. No matter what I do,” I cried.

“You can come live with me. My parents would love to have you,” she offered. “And I would, too.”

“You mean it? Like really mean it?” I asked.

She nodded, causing my face to light up. 

“Thank you, thank you.” I clasped her hands.

“No, thank you.” She threaded our fingers together, and with that, we walked away.

With Maria’s hand in mine, I knew that everything was going to be okay. I may have lost a bit of love, but I’d gained some of my own.