I kissed her forehead.
The river moved quietly below us.
There were still questions we couldn’t answer.
Still differences between us.
Still people who would never understand.
But love had stopped feeling like the dangerous thing.
Pretending had been dangerous.
Silence had been dangerous.
Fear had nearly cost us everything.
A year after I first arrived at Michelle’s house, my parents came for dinner.
My mother brought dessert.
Michelle cooked too much food.
My father complained about parking.
Nothing exploded.
No one stared.
After dinner, Laura and Michelle sat at the kitchen table talking and laughing the way they had for years.
I stood in the doorway watching them.
Michelle noticed me.
Our eyes met.
That same look passed between us.
But now there was no shame hiding inside it.
Later, after my parents left, Michelle found me in the hallway.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
