There was a long beat of silence, and then Bonnie's father scowled. "That's not funny, young lady." He snapped. "I want you to apologize for making a joke in such poor taste."
Bonnie stared at him, nonplussed. He thinks I was joking? When she'd spoken, she had done so deliberately, knowing the consequences, but too angry to care. And yet, it seemed that the option remained for her to step back from what she had done. For a moment, she felt the pull of temptation. It was the perfect escape: all she had to do was apologize for her 'joke', and what she'd said would be forgotten. How can he be that deluded?
And then suddenly, realization struck her with almost physical force. He wants me to lie to them. Whether they knew it or not; probably not, at least at a conscious level; her family were willing accomplices to the lie she'd been living. As long as I pretend to be straight, they'll pretend to believe it. It was a strange feeling, to understand after all this time that she the secret she had been desperate to hide from her family was one they were desperate not to learn.
Stranger still, however, was the realization that came after it. I'm done hiding. The burden of living a lie; no matter how her family colluded to maintain it; was something she was no longer willing to bear. And so Bonnie forced down her fear, lifted her head, and – her quiet voice sounding loud in the tense silence – spoke the words that, finally, would end the deception forever.
"It's not a joke. I'm a lesbian."
"Holy shit." That was Connie.
"You're a dyke?" And Lonnie.
"Consuela! Alondra! I will not have such language at the table!" Their father snapped. The red flush in his neck was all the way to his hairline, now. He glared at Bonnie's older siblings, both of whom muttered apologies. Then he turned his attention to his youngest daughter. "You've always been a disappointment, but I cannot believe that even you would bring this much shame to our family."
"Shame?" Outraged, Bonnie rose to her feet. "My being gay brings shame to this family? What about the thirty year-old who's working on her second divorce?"
"I'm twenty-nine!" Connie protested.
"That's not helping your cause, sister dear." The youngest Rockwaller shot back.
Donato Rockwaller waved her objection away. "Your sister has made some unfortunate choices –"
"Unfortunate choices?" Bonnie laughed in disbelief. "She's lost two husbands and her job because she's a freaking alcoholic!"
Connie, in the midst of draining her fourth Bloody Mary of the day, sputtered in shock and outrage. The watching Lonnie gave a snide laugh, then flinched as Bonnie whirled in her direction.
"As for you, little Miss Hollywood ..." the former cheerleader's voice dropped into a disdainful purr. "The only thing you've been in that more than ten people have seen is your sex tape ... and even then, it was only because they were curious to see who was desperate enough to screw a bunch of has-beens like the 'Oh Boyz'."
"Bonita Theresa." Her father spoke in a quiet, strained tone. Bonnie turned back to glare at him. Dimly, the part of her that wasn't shaking with rage took in his cold, dark eyes and his stony face. This was different; normally his anger came in a storm of shouting, and fists crashing on desks. The kind of tantrum that would send her mother running for a 'nice lie down' ... and an extra large martini. "You will apologize to your sisters."
Something about her father's stance warned of danger, but Bonnie was far too furious to care.
"No." She folded her arms. "I won't."
There was a moment of silent, frozen confrontation, and then Donato Rockwaller narrowed his eyes.
"You are no longer welcome in this house. From this moment on, I have only two daughters."
"Donnie!" Bonnie's mother gasped, waving a hand ineffectually.
"Quiet, Yvonne." Her father remained impassive as Bonnie stared at him in shock. Finally, his lip curled into a sneer. "Get out. If you're still here in five minutes, I'll report you to the police for trespassing."
The harsh words struck her like a physical slap, but Bonnie refused to show her pain. Silently, without a glance at her wide-eyed mother and siblings, she turned and went up to her bedroom. With tense, controlled motions, she packed her bag, dragged it down the stairs behind her, and strode out of the house, head held high.
It was only when she stepped onto the sidewalk outside the grounds that she allowed her tears to flow.
After a few minutes, Bonnie wiped her eyes. The tears had been necessary and cleansing. She still felt a hollow ache at what her father had done; what her mother and sisters had allowed him to do; but her head was clear. She didn't fool herself that her grief was over. But I'll deal with the rest of it later.
Right now, she had to consider her situation. It was early afternoon on Christmas Day. Her flight wasn't until the next day, she'd had no lunch, and she had nowhere to stay for the night.
"Okay. I've got a few hundred bucks in my checking account." She reminded herself. "So I can get a motel room. Something cheap out near the airport, maybe." Of course, there was a risk that they were full. She should probably call ahead. Not that she knew the names or numbers of the motels, but at least one of the major chains would probably be represented.
First things first, though: I need something to eat. Bonnie had spent most of the morning in the kitchen, baby-sitting the meal her parent's cook had prepared. It had been quite pleasant, really. The room was warmed by the oven, and her sisters hadn't bothered her. Probably worried I'd expect them to help if they came in. She'd been able to keep half an eye on the food and the rest of her attention on reading over course work for the upcoming semester. Unfortunately, after an entire morning spent amidst tantalizing aromas, things had blown up at the table before she could enjoy the fruits of her labors.
Grateful for all the walking she did back home, the brunette set off toward town. She'd need to be closer to the city center to pick up a cab back to the airport. It would be a two mile hike, but she was used to doing that back home. Of course, back in Huntsville it would be warmer. She pulled her coat more tightly around her, and trudged on.
Bonnie had never been so grateful to see a gas station. As she didn't have a car, she rarely had need of one at home. Of course it wasn't the gas she cared about, even now: it was the small store beyond the pumps. An 'open' sign hung in the doorway. She knew that such places charged premium prices. But it was Christmas Day, so there weren't any alternatives. She'd passed a suburban mall half a mile back, but it had been completely closed up.
The brunette stamped her feet a couple of times so that she wouldn't track slush inside, then pushed open the door. The store was blessedly heated, though not as much as Bonnie herself would have chosen. A heavily-pregnant blonde woman stood behind the counter, but the former cheerleader had other things on her mind. Even gas station coffee sounds good, right now.
Leaving her bag next to the counter - Middleton was not a place you worried about petty thieves, just alien invaders and other would-be world conquerors - Bonnie made a beeline for the wall where the coffee pot stood. She fixed herself the largest size available, then browsed her way back down the aisle. The store had some real food on its shelves, but she had no way to prepare it. She was just about to give up and settle for a couple of bags of potato chips when she noticed a small section labeled 'Kosher Deli'. She felt a moment of gratitude for Middleton's large Jewish community.
Bonnie picked up a small, dense loaf of sliced rye bread, as well as some pastrami and kosher pickles. An apple strudel rounded out her purchases. Combined with the coffee, this was quite a bit to carry, so she trapped most of the items against her body with her right arm, and carried the coffee in her left. She paid careful attention to ensure nothing fell, and managed to make it to the counter without dropping anything or getting covered in scalding liquid.
"Just these thanks." She said, not looking up as she carefully set everything down on the counter.
"Bonnie? Bonnie Rockwaller?"
That was not the response the brunette had been expecting. She looked up, finally making eye contact with the pregnant blonde. The other woman was about her age, with wavy, shoulder-length hair and bright blue eyes.
"It is you!" The blonde flashed a bright smile.
"Tara?" Bonnie flushed, feeling foolish for not previously recognizing her high school friend. "You ... cut your hair."
The blonde laughed. "Yes, though that's not usually the first thing people notice, these days." She patted her belly.
"Sorry." Bonnie apologized. "Congratulations. When are you due?"
"The end of February. Good thing it isn't a leap year." Tara offered the second sentence with the tired smile of someone who's heard the observation from a thousand other well-wishers.
The brunette returned the smile. "It's good to see you. I'm surprised you're working on Christmas Day. It used to be your favorite day of the year."
"I celebrated this morning." The blonde explained. "Eddie dropped me off at my parents' house when he came into work, then dad brought me over here so Eddie could have his lunch break. He'll be back in about twenty minutes to take over again. He's Jewish, so Christmas isn't a big deal for him."
Bonnie glanced at the blonde's left hand, picking out the rings on her wedding finger. "Eddie's your husband?"
"Yes." Tara gave a slightly misty smile. Then she shot the brunette an apologetic glance. "Sorry I didn't invite you to the wedding, but we kinda lost touch."
"That was my fault." Bonnie sighed. She'd had a petulant tantrum about being shipped off to Alabama, and as part of that she'd broken off all contact with her friends in Middleton. And when I eventually pulled my head out of my ass I was too ashamed to re-connect. She decided to change the subject. "How did you meet, um, Eddie?"
Tara gave her a funny look. "He was friends with Luke, don't you remember?"
Bonnie frowned. Luke was Tara's older brother, and the only Jewish friend she remembered him having was ... "Edward Goldstein? You married Bueno Nacho Ned?"
Tara's smile dimmed. "He's a good man, Bonnie."
And I'm an idiot. "I'm sorry. I was just surprised. Does he make you happy?"
"Very."
"Then that's all that matters." Bonnie said sincerely. "I'm glad for you both."
"Thank you." The blonde's expression grew cheerful once more.
A thought occurred to Bonnie. "Say - do you know what motels there are near the airport? I need to try and organize a room for the night."
"You're not staying at the big house?" Tara looked surprised. Bonnie gave a brief smile to hear their old pet name for the Rockwaller home; a reference both to the size of the property and to the way it sometimes felt like a prison.
"... no." The brunette knew that Tara would want to know why, and briefly considered what to say. Maybe she could get away without going into too much detail. "I ... had a fight with my father. He kicked me out."
"Surely if you apologized -"
"I can't, Tee." Bonnie shook her head. "This isn't something I can take back, even if I felt it was something I should apologize for. Which it isn't."
Tara looked confused. "What do you mean?"
There's no point hiding it. I'm sure Lonnie and Connie will spread it all over town, the first chance they get. Hopefully the truth wouldn't cost her a newly rediscovered friend.
"I ... came out to him." Irrationally worried that Tara wouldn't understand, Bonnie made it even more plain. "I'm gay."
"Oh." Tara blinked. Then she nodded. "Yeah, your father would freak about that."
"... is it a problem for you?" Bonnie asked the question tentatively. She felt guilty that her old friend's acceptance was important to her, but it was. Maybe she was still feeling a bit raw over her family's reaction. Or maybe I've just always cared too much about what other people think of me.
The blonde shook her head. "No. No problem. Love is love, I think."
Bonnie's surge of relief was interrupted by a grumble from her stomach, reminding her of her reason for entering the store. "I should really pay you for this stuff." The brunette got out her purse. "I haven't had any lunch yet and I'm starving."
"Don't be silly!" Tara waved away the suggestion. "I don't expect you to pay."
"I want to, Tee." The brunette insisted. "You're running a business here, not a charity."
Tara nibbled on her bottom lip. "Okay. Since it's stuff from the shop, I'll let you pay ... as long as you give up on this silly motel idea and agree to stay with us tonight. We have a spare bed. It's only a single, but we'd love to have you."
"You're sure Ne- ... Eddie ... will be okay with it?" The offer was generous, and very tempting – buying return flights to Las Vegas had wiped out a large chunk of Bonnie's savings - but she didn't want to take it for granted.
"You can call him Ned, most people still do." The blonde nodded. "He's in the back. I'll ask him when he comes through from lunch, but I'm sure it will be fine. So ... was that a 'yes'?"
"Assuming Ned says it's okay, definitely. Thanks, Tara."
"You're welcome." The other woman gave a sunny smile. "Once Eddie's come through I'll drive us home and we can catch up on the last couple of years." She paused. "It's good to see you again."
Bonnie returned the smile. "You too, Tee." Maybe this Christmas isn't going to be a complete disaster, after all.
Author's Note: Bonnie's trials and tribulations may not yet be over, but it seems some good has come of this situation. :)
I'm not sure what caused the idea of Tara/Ned to occur to me. (And apologies if references to 'Eddie' made you think of Motor Ed).
The opening scene of this chapter was written more than two years ago. I've just waiting to get to it, ever since.