the kind of closeness that i
FEATURED WRITER: ALYSSA PYPER
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“I was terrified that they, they would hate me, for who I was,
that I couldn’t be myself”
“When Tyler came to us, we were horrified, horrified that
we’d been actively supporting something that was denying
our son . . . we want for him a full, happy life, we want for
him to know that we support him”
1
Our night on the dock could have told me. But the photo
you took is still saved to a file on my parent’s computer—
hidden and holding to the mossy, templed covering of the
weeping yaupon holly.
Look at the way the water ripples slow, tracing the dock,
holding the calf of my dangling left leg. See how my shirt
matches the calming grey-blue, a soft evening song. Notice
my hair, falling in sleek wooden oars past breasts and slender
hip-bones.
And my eyes, brighter than the upturn of my mouth. Feel
them. They are holding you.
1.1
We lay on the dock that evening for three hours. You kept
mentioning bug spray, and that maybe we should go inside.
But I glowed, your shoulder inches from mine.
I counted to one-hundred-and-sixteen in mosquito bites
the next morning.
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LESBIAN MOMS GIVE RELATIONSHIP ADVICE!!!
We met on MySpace! Relationship effort should always
be 50/50. Always tell the truth! Sometimes you gotta be
spontaneous, bring home some flowers from time to time.
And what’s the point of being in a relationship if you’re
not gonna give your all? You have to give 100% of yourself.
Give compliments. Don’t be cheap!
2
“I never know how to act in those kind of moments, “ you’d
said, pushing my suitcase into your room.
I couldn’t tell you that all I’d been able to think of when
you’d greeted me off the plane in Orlando was your mom
as our chauffer. Her, never quite smiling
and the six weeks since I’d seen you last—the scarcity of your
texts, my two miserable summer jobs
and my mother. Growing desperate because she couldn’t
track my melancholy.
One night I woke gasping, sobbing, as if you’d been
pressed against me. Sobbing, because even in dreams, with
you pressed against me, I was whole.
2.1
The coming:
A nervous hug, a shared, half-true report of the summer.
A post-flight meal at your favorite Mexican restaurant.
The going:
Your neighbors lent us their paddle boat and jet skis. It
took us the whole morning to trace the lily pads and moss
of the lake.
All that life. All that water. I kept wondering why we hadn’t
traced it sooner.
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Two women meet in an airport, embrace for a good long
while. Slowly, the woman in the wife-beater T pulls back,
traces her lover’s cheeks with both thumbs. And then its
lips tracing lips
rewind
lips tracing lips
rewind
lips tracing lips
3
Like a lily pad pushed under
Seven more weeks until you’d be back
my mother
my jobs at the end of a six hour flight
one-hundred-and-sixteen mosquito bites as my carry-on
a fresh red burn on account of paddles and jet skis
But we embraced
3.1
The blonde haired woman wearing the fitted grey suit, aisle
across from mine:
Would she take pleasure in knowing? My arms wrapped
around your torso, splashing circles under an orange-juice
sun? The way we merged, moments before my boarding—
ripe in our warmth, your ear to my ear, my neck and breasts
and torso melding into yours
3.2
the closest we’d ever
the closest you’d let me
3.3
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PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN Touchstones