The Story as Promised

It was the summer of 6th grade and I was super-excited because Marlie and I were going to the same camp together. We'd both gone away to camp before, but separately or at different times depending on family vacations, types of camps, etc. This was the very first summer we would spend a whole seven days in a row together.

Marlie, me, and Mom Mom were all sitting around the kitchen table and I was practically bouncing in my seat with excitement. Marlie was, as usual, a little more restrained, but she was being pretty quiet even for her. I suspect her close-lipped act was because my mom mom is a scary woman. You normally don't think of grandmoms as scary, I know. Let me just say this: my Mom Mom is a badass motherfucker. Seriously. She's a little old white woman, but I've seen her outnerve hardcore gangster-looking types more than once. Once when I was younger, I went out shopping with her and some older boys tried to rob her. The store manager eventually called the police- not, in fact, to save my mom mom. The boys needed saving from her. She broke the ribs on one of them, gave another a black eye, and then was almost charged with assault despite it being exaggerated self-defense. Why? She gave lip to the police officer, who happened to be black. I'm pretty sure she said something like "get your nigger hands off me", but I can't quite get her to confirm that.

... back to the story. So, I was rambling on and on in my excitement about camp with the occasional grunt of acknowledgment from Marlie. "And we're gonna make friendship bracelets together-"

"Mm-hm."

"- and we're gonna be swim buddies-"

"Mm-hm."

"- and we're gonna share a tent together!"

"Mm-hm."

Mom Mom, who had been frowning in increasing amounts during my babbling, interjected an "Oh, are you?". I didn't notice it, but Marlie told me later that her pursed lips looked like they wanted to say something else.

"Yeah!" I got up from my chair and danced from the table to the refrigerator to pour myself some milk. "It'll be so much fun, I'm so excited. It's in July though, that's over a month away-"

"Alyssa," Marlie interrupted, looking at the glass. "Me too?"

"Uh-huh," I said, barely noticing the interruption. It hadn't exactly shattered my train of thought, but my mom mom must have thought it rude. Her frown deepened into what could be considered a scowl at this point. I went back to the kitchen cabinet to fetch a cup and kept going. "And I've only ever been to day camps, but Marlie says that overnight camps are way more fun! She says that-"

"Alyssa!" Mom Mom said suddenly, and I paused in pouring the milk and looked at her in surprise. "Why aren't you giving Marlie as big a glass as yours? Isn't that rude?"

"But this is her favorite one," I said, still surprised as anything. "And she doesn't want as much as me."

"Did you ask her?"

"Er... no." I turned to look at her and say, extremely politely, "Marlie... how much milk do you want?"

"The usual," she said coolly, and I cringed slightly. I knew the tone wasn't for me, but when Marlie doesn't sound mad and gets this way-too-casual tone instead, things are going to go horribly wrong.

"That's fine," I said hurriedly in my avoid-a-crisis-at-all-costs voice. "Mom Mom, let me tell you more about the camp-"

"I've heard enough," she said firmly. "What I want to know is, are there any boys at this camp?"

"Boys?" I blinked. Wrong reaction. Two things you need to know. One, I was an incredibly late bloomer. I was ugly pretty much until I was about 16 or 17. Suddenly I had a boyfriend, become boy-crazy, yadda yadda... but until then? Nothing. The second thing you need to know is that this was a Girl Scout camp. I never got to tell her that part.

"I knew it!" she crowed, and, utterly confused, I just brought our two glasses of milk over to the table. I had no idea what was coming next. "You're gay!"

Why did I have to be the one to take a sip? I choked it down before it exploded out my mouth. "I'm what?!" I didn't dare look over at Marlie.

Let's face it. 'Gay' was the ultimate insult in the 90's. Maybe it still is in elementary schools, I wouldn't know. Yet even as people threw it around haphazardly, everyone knew what it meant. If you were a girl, it meant you like girls. If you were a boy, it meant you liked boys. Simple.

I'd never even considered that definition for me.

"You're gay!" she repeated gleefully. "I'm right, aren't I? Oh, I've been suspecting it for a while, Alyssa, and you've just practically admitted it! Listen to you, going to this all-girls camp with your best friend who also happens to be a girl and you're going to share a tent together-- no doubt making love all week lon-"

The whole time she went on like this, I was staring at her in absolute horror, unable to say or do anything. I hate confrontations. When people say hurtful things to me, I don't know how to react. I freeze up and I may get mad, but all I do is cry. Which is fairly pathetic. Shut up. I was still in shock mode here, not quite up to the crying phase yet, when there was an interruption that didn't come from me.

It was from Marlie. In the form of her glass of milk.

My jaw must have been on the floor. It's not every day that your yami throws a glass of milk straight into the face of your grandmother.

"She's not gay," Marlie said coldly, and my mom mom's mouth moved without a sound for a good ten seconds.

"Well!" she finally spat out. "I never--" and we never got to find out what she never. She stood up without another intelligible word, still sputtering, and marched out of the house.

A moment later, Marlie and I heard her motorcycle start up and screech out of my driveway.

Still in absolute shock, my eyes took in the milk puddle in the chair, the milk footsteps leading out of the kitchen, and Marlie's sudden frown. She looked at the cup she still held in her hand and sighed as though intensely annoyed. "I'm all out of milk," she declared. "Can I have some more?"


In case you were wondering, I'm on good terms with my mom mom now. When she and Marlie happen to be in the same room, they do that guy thing where they kind of eye each other and jerk their heads in a stiff nod. My mom mom's badass, but she isn't witless quite yet; she's never asked that question again.