Chapter Eight

By the time I walked through the door it was nearly eleven o'clock, and I was startled to find my parents sitting in the living room, apparently waiting up for me. Taking a look at the blank expressions on their faces, I took it that this was not a good thing. Something told me I wasn't going to like whatever was going on.

"It's late," said my father, and I sat down in the recliner chair across from the sofa.

I sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Where were you?"

"I needed to go talk to Kevyn. She was upset about something," was all I told them, trying not to go into any detail, and also trying hard to hide the grin that wanted to break out at the thought of her. Damn. That wouldn't look good when I was attempting to look appropriately regretful.

"You've been missing a lot of time here on the ranch. A lot of meals."

I frowned slightly. "I know… but, she's new around here. I've just been showing her around, trying to be a friend." Yeah, that was good. This wasn't so bad, after all.

"We think you've been spending too much time with her."

"What?"

My father took a deep breath, folding his hands into a steeple, placing the tips of his fingers at the bridge of his nose, a posture I noticed Bastiaan copied often when he was thinking hard about what to say. That did not bode well.

His deep verdant gaze found mine. "I ran into her father, Patrick, at the feed store last week, buying food for their dogs. We talked for a while. Kevyn happened to come up in the conversation." I tried not to look as on edge as that statement made me feel. "He mentioned some interesting things. They lived in San Francisco, which is apparently a more… liberal city in California. He said she'd had some trouble with a few of her… girlfriends, or whatever they're called, and hoped Montana would be good for her, too. 'Help her meet nicer people', he said. Kevyn is a lesbian." My father spat out the word as though it tasted horrible, and it was then that I realized with a sinking sensation in my heart that my own father, the man who raised me to be understanding and tolerant of others, the man I'd looked up to for my entire life, was prejudiced.

Forcing myself not to react, I still tried to look casual. "Okay…"

"You being with someone… like that… so often… We're afraid it's not good for you, Annika." Oh god, this came from my mother. I had told Bastiaan just the week before that they came from a different school of thought, and that was true, but oh, it hurt so much when I discovered I was right. I had to warn my brother that it was best not to tell them he was gay. It wouldn't go over well. We would both have to live our lives in secret, never being able to tell our parents about our triumphs and our sadness; the people who had brought us into the world would never truly understand us.

I was suddenly very, very sad.

I looked at my parents as though I had never seen them before.

"You should find more people your age," my mother was still speaking, and I tried hard to concentrate on her words. "It's good that you're making friends, but you have to be careful, AJ. Go out with Stacey, let her introduce you to some of her friends; I'm sure she wouldn't mind that. And you should meet her boyfriend. I'm sure Bastiaan knows some nice kids from school. We'll invite them over for dinner some night, and have them bring some people they know. Would you like that?"

Busy fighting back tears and nausea, I could only nod. If you only knew, I thought. I knew they wanted me to meet more people because they were worried about Kevyn 'turning' me into a lesbian by being around her so much. Oh, if they knew the truth…

If they knew the truth, I somehow don't think their words would still be this calm. I sighed. If this was what Bastiaan had lived with for however many years, this fear, this knowledge, he was far stronger than I was.

My dad smiled thinly. "Good. We'll have them over Friday night, then."

I stood on shaking legs. "Can I go to bed now? I'm tired."

"One more thing," continued my father. "I think it might be a good idea if you stayed away from Kevyn for a while. A week, maybe. That will give you a chance to meet some other people."

"I… you can't do that! She's my friend."

"AJ…"

I refused to listen. "No. She needs a friend. She doesn't know anyone here, her mom is sick…" I clenched my jaw. "I won't leave her alone."

My parents exchanged glances which I couldn't quite decipher.

After a long, tense minute, my dad got to his feet. His body language told me he was going to tell me something, and there would be no negotiating. This was final. He gave the impression that he was the boss, and I would listen and obey, because he said so. I hated it when he got like that, which wasn't very often.

"You will not see her before the dinner on Friday night," he stated, leaving no room for discussion.

"But…"

My mother shook her head. "No, AJ. Trust us on this. It's for your own good, sweetheart. We're just doing what's best."

I felt my nostrils flare as I began losing the battle with my emotions, and tears brimmed in my eyes. "Fine," I breathed, trying hard not to growl, knowing that would only get me into trouble for being disrespectful. "Can I go now?"

Justin nodded. "Yes. We'll see you in the morning."

I ran up the stairs, but never made it to my room. I knew it was late, but I had to see Bastiaan. There was no way I'd be able to talk, not right away, but if I went to my room I was afraid I'd break something. I had so much anger, so much pain, so much sadness, so much feeling, I wasn't sure what I'd do. Not bothering to knock, I opened the door, and went to his bedside.

"Bastiaan," I choked.

He sat up, slowly, rubbing at his eyes. "AJ? What's wrong?"

I fell into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. He put his arms around me, moving so I could curl up beside him, and held me securely.

"What's going on, Annika?" he asked, softly, after the flow had ebbed a bit.

I was hiccupping so much I didn't think I'd be able to say anything, but I tried. "Mom and… Dad. They said… they said I can't see Kevyn. Patrick told Dad and… he doesn't… they don't think it's good. Oh, Bastiaan... we can't tell them, we can't ever tell. I can't see her until Friday night. They want me to… meet more people." I wasn't making sense, but I kept talking. "They think it's for my own good. But it's not. She is. And I want to be with her but they won't, they won't let me. We can't ever tell."

My brother rubbed my back, sighing gently. "I'm sorry, Annika. I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I thought they were acting strangely tonight, but I didn't think anything of it. I should have known something was up when I didn't hear them go to bed before I did."

I shook my head. "You didn't know. This is how you feel all the time, isn't it?"

"If I think I know how you're feeling, then yes."

"I can't do it. I can't."

"What do you mean?"

I looked at him, carefully. "I'm so mad, Bastiaan. Why are they doing this? How can they think like that? And it hurts so much… You were right, I told Kevyn the truth, and we talked. She kissed me again. I kissed her. I was so happy tonight, and I can't even tell mom or dad," I said, heavily. "We've always been able to share everything with them, but tonight they made it sound like it was so disgusting, so horrible…"

"Like you said, Annika, they come from a different generation, a different way of thinking. They don't understand. And what people don't understand, they fear. Fear can give way to anger," he explained. "I know it hurts. It's very hard not to tell them everything, because we want them to be as happy as we are." I nodded. "But sometimes that doesn't always work. That's why I started telling them Bobby was a girl a few months ago. Just change a few pronouns and they never know."

I climbed under the covers with him, something I hadn't done since I'd had bad dreams in my childhood. He just moved over so I could share the pillow.

"I don't want to lie to them, Bastiaan. I don't want to have to lie about who I am and what makes me smile."

"I know."

"But I have to."

He nodded, and said again, "Yes. I know."

I rubbed my eyes as they began to ache with dried tears. "I hate this. How can I be so happy about one thing and then so angry about another? I never thought I'd be this mad at mom and dad, Bastiaan."

"You're not mad at them," he corrected, "you're mad at how they're acting. It might be all they know, AJ. They were probably raised to believe this way."

"But dad always taught us to be so open-minded. He's one of the funniest and most easy-going people I know." Granted, I didn't know many people, but Bastiaan agreed.

"I'd say the same thing about him," my brother stated. "And if you didn't know Kevyn, he might not have cared at all what Patrick told him. It can be different when it affects his daughter, or he is afraid it will."

Having said enough on this subject for my stomach to handle for one night, we fell into silence for a while, as I tried to steady my breathing and get a grip on my emotions. Much of what Bastiaan said made sense, and gave me a lot to think about.

"What does GLBT stand for?" I asked, suddenly remembering the letters that Kevyn had mentioned.

"Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender," elaborated my sibling, easily. I was quiet again, and he kissed my forehead, biting back a large yawn. "Get some sleep, AJ. No, you can stay here," he said, when I made a move to get up, "you're okay. If you want to talk any more, just wake me up, all right?"

I nodded, and put my head against his arm as I took a deep breath.

It took me a long time to fall asleep.


Breakfast was difficult, and I thought it would never end. I refused to say a single word, determined to show my parents just how unfairly they were treating me. My brother said little, chatting with our folks as if he didn't know anything, but was only dimly aware of the tension at the table. My father kept looking at me sternly, as if to tell me he wasn't going back on the sentence. Mother, on the other hand, didn't look at much of anything besides her plate.

I cleared the table and went to the door to pull on my boots so I could go riding.

My dad stopped me. "No, AJ."

I looked up. He had to be joking. "I can't go riding?"

He shook his head.

"But, I'm just… I just want to see the mustangs. I swear that's all." It was raining off and on, but I figured they would still be at the Point, and I needed to get out of the house.

"No. You can spend the day in the house."

I stood quickly, angry. "I don't believe this. I'm being punished for making friends." With that, I stormed up to my room, not giving him a chance to respond. I turned on my stereo and tried to drown out my anger with music, singing along with Avril Lavigne and Alanis Morrisette. I needed kick-ass-and-take-names music. Those ladies were good for it.

That's probably why I didn't hear the phone ring, and didn't realize Bastiaan was knocking at the door until it swung open.

I turned down the volume enough to hear what he had to say. He pointed to the phone and mouthed, "Kevyn". I turned my stereo down some more and picked up the phone, waiting until I heard him hang up to speak.

"Hey."

Kevyn was cheerful, so apparently Bastiaan hadn't told her anything. "Hi there, beautiful. I just thought I'd call to see what you were up to."

"Nothing."

"Want to go riding?"

I leaned my forehead against the wall above my bed, before letting myself fall back against the pillows. "I can't," I sighed.

She paused. "What's wrong, Nikka?"

"My parents said I can't see you for a while."

"They know?"

"No. But your dad told my dad, and now they think it's not good that I hang around you so much," I told her. "At first they said a week, but then my dad said I can't see you before tomorrow night, and they have some dinner planned with a bunch of kids my age."

I heard a gentle sigh. "I'm sorry, Nikka. Usually my dad is very careful; he knows not to say anything. He probably just slipped. I'll talk to him."

I shrugged. "I just miss you."

"And I miss you," she echoed. "So you can't go out at all?"

"Nope. I already tried just going out to Mustang Point, and my dad said I couldn't. It's so horrible, Kevyn. How can they be so angry about something they don't even understand?"

She told me the same thing as Bastiaan, about how that was exactly why they were upset, because they didn't understand.

"My parents were always supportive, but it took them a while to accept that their daughter is a lesbian," she said. "Your parents are probably just worried." I wasn't so sure about that. They seemed angry to me. Not worried. Repulsed. "Most people know it's not an easy thing, to be different, and all parents want is for their children to be safe and happy. Something that makes them stand out has a tendency to hurt them, and that worries them, sometimes beyond a point of being rational."

I didn't think I understood all that, but it was another view, I supposed.

"So it wouldn't be a good idea for me to put this letter in your mailbox, huh?"

My shoulders sagged. "Probably not," I sighed. "I'm sorry they're being so difficult."

"Hey," she said, gently, "don't apologize. It's not your fault, Nikka. I understand."

"At least somebody does."

"Annika, don't be so hard on them, or yourself, please. Your parents are only trying to protect you. They think that if you hang around with me that you'll get hurt by who I am," that was ridiculous, "and it's not the first time I've had something like this happen. We'll talk on the phone, and get through this until we can see each other again, all right?"

She sounded so sure that everything would work out. "Okay."

A smile. "Good. Thank you. Oh, and let me tell you, thank you for last night."

Even I had to smile, now. "You're welcome."

"I still have your shirt, you know."

"Keep it," I chuckled. "I've got plenty more, believe me."

"Well, good, I didn't want to give it back. It smells like you."

I blinked. "It smells like me?"

"Yes. In fact, I'm wearing it now."

I grinned. Why did that make me feel so good?

Suddenly, my door swung open again, but this time, it wasn't Bastiaan. It was my father. He must have wondered why I'd suddenly turned down the volume on my stereo… but had he heard me talking?

Oh, this was bad. My smile faded instantly.

"Who are you talking to?"

Kevyn fell quiet as she heard his voice.

I got to my feet slowly. What did I tell him? If I lied and he found out, he'd probably be even angrier with me.

"Kevyn."

His eyes narrowed. "Did you call her?"

If I told him that she'd called me, he'd probably never let me have a phone in my room again, and make me dial all my calls from the phone in the kitchen.

I nodded. "Yeah. I called her."

"Nikka!" came from the other end of the line, but I didn't respond.

"Hang up."

I swallowed. "I've got to go," I told Kevyn, and hit the button that turned the phone off, replacing it on its base. My father and I stared at each other for a while, neither of us moving.

Finally, he shook his head. "We're doing what is best for you, Annika. Why can't you just listen? I said no contact with that girl until after tomorrow night."

I frowned. "No, you said I couldn't see her. I'm not. We were just talking on the phone."

"Don't get technical with me, Annika."

"You set the rules."

My father set his jaw. "Watch your tone, young lady."

I looked down.

I could smell his aftershave as he came closer, reaching around me to pull the phone cord out of the wall, wrapping it around the phone and walking towards the door. I was too stunned by his actions to say a word.

"You will ask permission if you need to make a phone call, and call from the kitchen phone." Damn, I'd told the truth and I still got this treatment. "I don't like doing this to you, AJ, but… it's obvious that this girl isn't good for you. You're already breaking rules." Whether or not I had truly broken any rules was a gray area that I decided not to bring up.

Suddenly, my mother was there, too, and he gave her the phone. "What is it about her that has you disobeying us, AJ? Has she…" I could tell she was having trouble forming the words, "done anything to you? Has she made you do anything to her? Anything at all, baby? You can tell us if she has, we'll take care of it."

My stomach turned as I realized what my mother was referring to. My God, she was asking me if Kevyn had molested me, touched me in a way I didn't want her to… Well, I could answer that one easily and honestly, with a single word, even.

"No. She would never hurt me," I added, feeling sick. How could the people in front of me making these implications be my parents?

"Are you sure? You know, sometimes these people, they…"

I couldn't hear anymore. "No! Kevyn would never hurt me. I called her on the phone to let her know that I wouldn't be able to see her for the next few days, all right? You want me to meet new people, and then I get in trouble when I do. You were perfectly happy with me hanging around with her before you found out she's a lesbian, and now, suddenly, she has some sort of disease and I can't be around her? What happened to not judging people, letting God do that?" I snapped.

None of us were extremely religious, but we went to Easter and Christmas services at the local church, and my father's view had always been that it was God's place to judge. We humans just made friends where we could, with tolerance and respect.

So much for that.

"God won't judge them, AJ, they aren't of His kingdom. They have no place, they shouldn't be here," said my mother, as evenly as though she was telling me the weather. She truly believed that.

Now I knew I was going to throw up.

"I'm going to go spend some time with Hamlet," I said, abruptly, and walked past them. I couldn't take any more of that. I ran into the bathroom on my way downstairs and closed the door behind me, bracing my hands on the sink, hanging my head as I fought to keep my breakfast in my stomach. My world was spinning around me and my parents were blurring more and more and I had no idea how to stop it