Bright Purple: Color Me Confused with Bonus Content (17 page)

Nathan nods. “That’s cool.”

As Mitch drives me home, we talk a little more about Jess. But some of his questions bother me a little. And I get the feeling that he doesn’t really care about her. Maybe even that he dislikes her. And that bugs me.

“I think you guys are wasting your time,” he says finally. “I mean she’s a lesbo, Ramie.”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Okay. Sorry. She’s a
lesbian
. Is that more politically correct? But, seriously, isn’t it obvious?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I probably knew she was gay even before you did.”

“How?”

“Just look at her, Ramie. She walks like a guy. She dresses like
a guy. She’s just your typical butch lesbian. I’m surprised you never figured it out before.” He laughs. “Or did you?”

The way he asks that last question really makes me mad. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.

“Well, you know. Did she ever come on to you?”

“Mitch!”

“You’re a hot girl, Ramie. I’m sure that Jess was aware of it. Are you saying that she never came on to you?”

Now I know he thinks he’s being funny. And maybe I would’ve laughed at that before. Before I heard part of Jess’s story today. But now it just sounds rude and crude and mean. And so I tell him.

“Wow, you’re being pretty sensitive about this, Ramie,” he says as he pulls into my driveway. “Sure I didn’t touch a nerve?”

“No!” I snap at him. “Didn’t you listen to anything that Nathan said tonight?”

“About what?”

“About loving Jess unconditionally.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“You don’t sound very loving to me.”

“Hey, I’m the one who’s accepting that she’s gay. I’d say that’s pretty unconditional.”

“But what if she’s not gay? What if she’s just trapped?”

He laughs. “Yeah, right.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, then open the door. But when Mitch walks me up the stairs to the door, I’m not feeling quite the same anticipation as usual. And instead of our regular little kissing session, which has been getting longer and longer, I let him kiss me once, then I quickly say good night and go into the house.

My mom is sitting at the island in the kitchen, working on her laptop. “How was youth group?” she asks.

“Okay.” I open the fridge and look around.

“How was Mitch?”

I make a growling sound as I take out a can of soda.

She looks up from her computer screen. “Now was that a happy growl or a grumpy growl?”

“A grumpy one.” I pop open the soda and take a sip.

Then she closes her laptop and looks at me. “What’s wrong with Mitch?”

I pull out a stool and sit down across from her, considering how much I want to disclose. On one hand, if I tell her that Mitch thinks that Jess is hopeless and will always be gay, she’ll probably agree. On the other hand, if I tell her that Mitch made some unkind remarks about Jess and me, she will probably think he’s a jerk. So I decide to bring up something else.

“Can I tell you something protected by client confidentiality?” I ask.

“About yourself?”

“No, about someone else.”

“Is this a real someone else, or is it you pretending to be someone else so that you can hear what I’d think?”

I roll my eyes. “No, it’s really someone else, Mom.”

She nods. “Yes. I can promise you client confidentiality.”

“Okay. The someone else is Jess. I wouldn’t have told you, but I figured you’d guess anyway.”

“And?”

So I repeat what Jess told BJ and me on the bus. I repeat it with full details, and even as I retell Jess’s story, I am hit again by the sadness of the situation. The unfairness of it.

Mom nods with a concerned expression. “Well, that casts this in a whole different light, doesn’t it?”

“So, you’re a professional,” I say. “Do you think that Jess has assumed she’s a lesbian just because of what that stupid Ashley did to her?”

“Being sexually abused as a child definitely impacts a person’s identity, Ramie. Although I’ve read some research that doesn’t statistically support what you’re suggesting.”

“But I’ve heard you say that research is subjective,” I remind her.

She smiles. “You actually listen to me sometimes?”

Ignoring this, I plod on ahead. “So, it’s possible that some research could be different? Like some research might prove that kids who get sexually abused by a same-sex person might believe that they’re homosexual?”

“I’m sure it’s possible.”

“So maybe Jess really isn’t gay,” I say hopefully. “Maybe she’s just been so affected by the abuse that she thinks she’s gay.”

“It’s not as simple as that, Ramie.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’d have to be Jess to know the answer to that question.”

“But it’s possible?”

“Anything is possible.”

“But, Mom,” I plead, “Doesn’t it make sense? Doesn’t it seem like Jess wouldn’t have those feelings if Ashley hadn’t messed with her? I mean Jess said it made her feel guilty and dirty and ashamed. Why would she feel like that if it was
normal?
”

“Because it was sexual abuse, Ramie. Jess would’ve felt just the same if a man had done it.”

I feel ridiculous for failing to see that myself.

“But you are right about one thing.”

“What?”

“Being sexually abused would mess up Jess’s head.” Mom gets a thoughtful look now. “And didn’t Jess start putting on the weight about that same time? Wasn’t she around twelve or thirteen when she started getting heavy?”

I think about this. “Yeah, now that you mention it, she never really was overweight before. Do you think that has something to do with it?”

“I think it’s just symptomatic of how she felt about her body. Lots of sex-abuse victims will turn to things like food to compensate for their pain. It can take the form of overeating or even anorexia. Others might turn to drugs or alcohol. It’s a coping mechanism. But counseling is better.”

“But until today she never told anyone,” I point out. “She’s never had any counseling at all.”

“It’s not too late to get some.”

So I tell Mom about our plan to meet with Nathan next week. She nods. “That’s a good start. But it may take more than that. It probably wouldn’t hurt for her to be in a therapy group too.”

I’m worried that Mom means a homosexual therapy group, and I know that Jess has already attended some gay alliance meetings with other homosexuals. I figure things like that will only push her the wrong way. But I don’t say this.

“If Jess ever wants to talk to me,” Mom offers, “I’d be more than happy.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll let her know.” I probably won’t let her know. Or, if I do, I won’t encourage it. My mom means well, but until she understands that homosexuality is a moral issue, I just don’t see how she could be much help to Jess.

“I’m glad that you’re talking to her again, Ramie,” Mom says. “I’m sure she needs her friends more than ever right now.”

“Yeah. I feel bad that I was pushing her away,” I confess. “It just made me so uncomfortable. I’m still a little worried everyone will think I’m a lesbian too.” Then I tell her a little about what’s been going on with the girls on the basketball team and even how I stood up to them today.

Mom smiles. “You did that, Ramie?”

I nod. “I think Coach Ackley was pretty shocked. But at least he supported me in it.”

“He better support you! The school could end up with a nasty lawsuit on its hands if he doesn’t. This is serious stuff these days, Ramie. Discrimination based on sexual orientation can get groups like the ACLU pretty riled up.”

“Well, it got me pretty riled up to hear girls calling Jess all those names today.” I don’t tell her that Mitch made me almost as mad tonight when he said what I thought were some totally unkind words about Jess as well.

I still don’t understand why he’s taking such a strong position against her. Okay, maybe he actually thinks he’s being supportive of Jess, but I just don’t see it like that. Frankly, it almost seems like he’s trying to drive an even bigger wedge between Jess and me. But why?

“I
CAN
’
T GIVE YOU A RIDE TO PRACTICE TODAY
,” J
ESS TELLS ME ON THE PHONE
just minutes before she is supposed to pick me up. But her voice sounds funny and I can tell something’s not right.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I’m at the hospital.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s not me.”

“What then?” I’m feeling really worried now. “Is it your dad?” I know her dad’s been taking heart medicine. And all this stress about Jess can’t be helping.

“No, it’s not Dad. It’s Joey.”

“Joey?”

“Joey Pinckney.”

“Joey Pinckney?” Now this makes no sense. Why is Jess at the hospital with Joey Pinckney?

“He tried to kill himself.”

“Oh no! Is he okay?”

“We don’t know. Some of us, you know, from the gay alliance group at school, we’re here to support him.”

“Oh.”

“So I’m going to miss practice.”

“That’s understandable. I’ll tell Coach. I just hope Joey is okay.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do.” But something about the way she says this doesn’t sound right. There’s a sarcastic edge to it.

“I do, Jess. I like Joey.”

“I’m sure that’s why you tease him sometimes.”

“Hey, I only teased him because I liked him. He was always cool with it before. If I didn’t like him, I would’ve just ignored him. And lately, well, after I started to wonder about some things . . . well, I quit teasing him altogether.”

“That probably didn’t help.”

“So this is
my
fault?” I say with indignation. “Joey tried to kill himself because of me?”

“Not you personally, Ramie. Just people like you.”

“People like me?” I can hear my voice getting louder. “But we’ve been talking, Jess. We’re working stuff out. Why are you saying this?”

“Because you have an agenda. People like you always do. you and BJ just want to see if you can fix me. Just like my parents. And it’s people like you who make people like Joey want to kill themselves. I have to go now.”

“Right.”

“By the way, I won’t be able to meet you guys with Nathan today.” Then, before I can respond, she hangs up.

I call BJ’s cell phone, knowing that she’s probably already on her way to school.

“Jess can’t come get me for practice,” I tell her in an angry voice. “Tell Coach that I’m not going to make it either, okay?”

“Wait a minute, Ramie. What’s wrong? What about our meeting with Nathan?”

So I fill her in about Joey, as well as Jess’s new attitude toward us.
“It’s like she’s blaming us,” I say. “Like we’re personally responsible for Joey’s suicide attempt.”

“That’s so sad.”

“It’s also unfair.”

“I mean it’s so sad about Joey. I hope he’s going to be okay. Did she say what he did?”

“No.” I realize now that I forgot to ask. I was so defensive that I totally forgot to be concerned about Joey. What is wrong with me?

“Well, I’m going to swing by your house and pick you up,” she tells me. “We’ll both be late, but that’s the breaks. In the meantime, why don’t you call Jess back and ask her how we can be praying for Joey.”

I agree, but as soon as I hang up, I’m not so sure. I mean Jess sounded pretty mad at me. Why do I want to go poke that hornets’ nest again? Still, I know that BJ will ask. So I dial Jess’s cell-phone number and wait, hoping maybe she’s turned it off.

“What?”
she says sharply, which tells me she’s using her caller ID.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” I begin. “And I’m really sorry about Joey too. Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I’d like to be praying for him, Jess. How’s he doing? Is he going to be in the hospital for long?”

“He cut his wrists,” she says in a flat-sounding voice. “He lost a lot of blood, but they have him on IVs and stuff. They’re going to be keeping him in the psych ward to observe for a couple of days.”

“Oh, because they’re worried about him doing it again?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I really am sorry, Jess. And I will be praying for him. And BJ will too. And if there’s anything we can do—”

“Maybe you could start treating him like normal again,” she says in a tired voice. “For you that might mean you should start teasing him again, not that I recommend it.”

“What?”

“Look, Ramie, we’re people too. Just like you. We need the same kinds of things that you do. We need to be loved and accepted and treated like normal human beings. Is that too hard to grasp?”

“No, of course not.”

“Fine.”

“Well, take care, Jess.”

“Thanks.”

I’m fighting back anger as I hang up. Why is she talking to me like that? I thought we’d made some progress, but now she’s acting like I’m the enemy. Am I really that bad?

BJ’s outside honking, so I grab my stuff and race out. As soon as I’m in the car I start venting about how Jess talked to me.

“She pretty much told me off.” I pause to catch my breath.

“That’s so weird. I mean after talking with her on Saturday, I felt kind of hopeful.”

“Me too. But she sounded like someone else just now. Like I didn’t even know her. All that talk about how people like
us
treat people like
them
. . . It was like she wanted to get into a big old fight right there on the phone.”