Leviticus

In Leviticus, the sexual relationships between two people of the same gender is condemned. I, a sixteen year old girl, was going to hell.

Celeste was beautiful, but not in the way that artificial things were beautiful. She was more like a Monet- quick brush strokes and messy, curly blonde hair, wide eyes. The ways he smiled reminded me of The Birth of Venus, the petals of a rose opening in slow motion.

She had said, “You can kiss me, you know.” Over text, and my heart had beat out of my chest. I had wanted to. God, had I wanted to. Sitting there on the loveseat couch in the bookstore together, I had wanted to lean over and take her face in my hands, watch her eyes, inspect her freckles up close. In that moment I had wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

My father and mother were religious people. Christian, middle-aged, and heavy set- there was a filmy layer of bible dust over their eyes when they looked at me. My dad, with coy smiles, would mutter things like, “Social Justice Warrior.” At me under his breath, or tease me for my politics. My mother would just regard me faintly with a dim, narrow look. I could read them both fairly well. They didn’t like that I was gay, and they weren’t going to be quiet about it.

But it wasn’t just my parents. It was a tenseness in the air around us when we walked into rooms holding hands. People regarded me differently after I came out. It wasn’t all negative, but in a small, conservative town, things weren’t going to return to the way they were before.

I glance over at my alarm, red numbers in pitch black, glowing like evil eyes in the dark. 3:46 AM.

My mind swam with thoughts. If my parents didn’t like it, God didn’t like it, everyone around us didn’t like it- was that enough to ruin us? Would our environment kill the bloom before we even had a chance to kill it ourselves?

I remember a line from a French story. “Is it better to speak, or die?” I sigh quietly, and my kitten meows her protest to my outburst under my covers.

“I know, baby. I wish I would just fall asleep too.”

I reach over for my phone, sliding the lock and searching for some mellow acoustic music to try and calm my mind.

Couldn't people see we were happy? Wasn't that enough? Can’t two people love each other in this world without all the chaos people have to invest in it? Has there ever been a clean romance?

4:02

I’d told her she was art, and she was. I was a lost teenage girl staring in wonder at the gallery, watching people go by and fixating on the beauty of the images, the honesty in their eyes. I loved the way she talked about things. It made you love the things she loved too; and I had a distinct lack of interest in life itself, so her being so taken with it helped.

“You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.” Leviticus says.

I blink my tired eyes, turning my head. I reminded myself haphazardly that the Bible also condoned slavery. My stomach still turns.

“Come on!“ Celeste yells, and I follow her into the vinyl store. “Let’s find the Fleetwood Mac.”

4:53 AM

My phone rings, and the screen blinds my delirious eyes.

Celeste wants to FaceTime.

I press decline, and I’m once again plunged into darkness. My cat rolls over, upset with the noise.

God, couldn‘t I just sleep?

No- I was wide awake. My body was singing with anxiety. I felt thoughts colliding together, 100 things stacking on top of each other in my lungs, weighing my being down. I tasted the word on my tongue.

“Abomination.”

It sounded wiry, sick, sharp. Like iron and wine- naked as we came. I felt it seep like a razor into my skin.

“Abomination.”

“I love the rain.” I said to her, taking her hand and looking up at the sky. “When I die, I want to be struck by lightning. Coup De Foudre. Touched by God.”

She smiles down at me. “Not anytime soon, I hope.”

“Abomination.”

I suck in a breath, and my cat, annoyed, stretches and comes out from under the blanket, going to find a new place to sleep.

It didn’t sound like a word anymore. It was a feeling. A cut, a burn, a patch of frostbite on my lungs.

This happiness, this fondness, this attraction, this compassion- this was worthy of an afterlife lived in torture?

“Abomination.”

Hot tears sting at the back of my eyes.

5:23 AM

My alarm was going to ring in seven minutes. Internally, I feel my body turn cold.

“Fuck.”

Tears stream down my face, and I feel my throat burn and close. If this was hell, if this was eternal damnation...

”Abomination.”

In my mind, she reaches for my face with gentle fingers. “It’s not a sin to love, you know.”

I shake my head. It was, though. It was. It was a sin to love, a sin to love as I did. I would die and die and die for this. In my mind I was burning for her, gladly.

“We should go out.” I chirp as I walk up to her, a brisk Monday morning before class. “Go to a vinyl store, get some coffee.”

“Yeah. That sounds fun.”

My mind carries the sound of her voice over the wind, the soft flow of words in my mind.

“Its not a sin to love.”

“It’s not a sin to love.”

My alarm blares in my ears, and I squeeze my eyes shut. No, no, no.

”Abomination.“ I say aloud, against the violent strain of my alarm. I say it louder, then louder. My mother opens my door cautiously.

“Honey, are you all right?”

I nod, tucking my chin into my shoulders, wiping tears off my cheeks.

“Just getting up. I’ll be out in a second.”

She looks at me doubtfully, then leaves.

I close my eyes.

”Its not a sin to love.”