I Kissed Shara Wheeler(92)

Chloe turns to Shara to mouth an embarrassed apology, but Shara only smiles a little and returns to the bread with her face slightly pink. She remembers what Shara wrote in her first note, that she’d heard the stories of Chloe’s mom before she ever met Chloe.

First Georgia, now Shara—come to the Green house, teenage queers of False Beach, for the first non-depressing glimpse of your future.

They eat dinner, and then, over bowls of ice cream, her mama asks, “So, Shara, where are you going in the fall?”

“I’m actually thinking about taking a year off,” Shara says, catching Chloe by surprise. “For a while, I felt like I should stay here, but I—I’ve been thinking that might not be a good idea for me anymore. I don’t know where else I would go though. It’s like, the whole world is here.”

Her mom nods thoughtfully, setting down her spoon.

“You know what’s wild?” she says. “When you’re born and raised in False Beach, you think Webster’s is how strawberry ice cream is supposed to taste. You can go to the fanciest ice cream parlor in LA or New York and have the most incredible scoop of fresh, artisanal strawberry ice cream in the world, but it’s still gonna be disappointing, because it doesn’t taste like the only strawberry ice cream you had for the first eighteen years of your life, when you were learning what ice cream was supposed to taste like.”

Shara nods slowly, turning the melting lump of ice cream in her bowl over and over with her spoon.

“But when I left,” Chloe’s mom goes on, “I figured something out real quick: It’s not the whole world. Just because everyone here knows who you are, and everyone talks about everyone else’s business, that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to be the person you know you are. There are things out there for you that you haven’t even thought of yet, that you don’t even know how to think of yet. Who you are here doesn’t have to be the same as who you are out there. And if the person you feel like you have to be in this town doesn’t feel right to you, you’re allowed to leave. You’re allowed to exist. Even if it means existing somewhere else.”

No one says anything, but Chloe’s mama reaches over to rest a hand on her mom’s.

“Anyway,” her mom says, “you wanna hear my DeNiro impression?”

“Mom.”



* * *



Before they leave for Shara’s house, she puts the necklace in her pocket. When they hit a red light, she hands it to Shara.

“I would apologize for being a freak and keeping it all this time,” Chloe says, “but you’ve done weirder stuff, so let’s call it even.”

Shara stares down at it as the light turns green.

“How did you know it was mine?”

“I, um.” Chloe keeps her eyes on the road. “I saw you. You didn’t notice me, but I was in the library that day.”

“Oh,” Shara says. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Can I ask you something?” Chloe waits for Shara to nod and continues, “What made you decide to get rid of it?”

Shara is quiet, and when Chloe glances over, she’s latching the chain around her neck.

“It wasn’t like anything happened,” Shara says. “My parents gave it to me when I turned thirteen, with this whole letter about how it represented me becoming a woman of Christ. It was like wearing a little travel-size version of their expectations. And everyone could see it, and I couldn’t control what they thought it meant to me, and I didn’t want anyone to think the way I love God is the same way other people at Willowgrove love God. It was just—it was too much. I knew my parents would notice if I stopped wearing it, so it had to go.”

“You came back for it though,” Chloe points out gently.

“Yeah, well,” Shara says. “Sometimes I come back for stuff.”

They pull up to Shara’s street, and Shara’s dad is waiting on the front porch swing in his Willowgrove polo, looking serious as an altar call. Last time Chloe checked, he was supposed to be in handcuffs. Maybe he’s already out on bail.

“I guess they noticed I left again,” Shara says.

“Do you think he knows what you did?” Chloe asks.

“Maybe,” Shara says. “But he’s got bigger problems than me right now, so maybe I can get out of False Beach before I have to deal with it.”

Shara slips the necklace under the neckline of her dress and straightens her shoulders, and Chloe realizes this is Shara when nobody’s looking. Born so smart and so curious and so fucking proud that not even Jesus could convince her she was wrong. Saved by God first and her God complex second. Going through hell and painting pink nail polish over it.

“You’re kind of a badass,” Chloe says. She’s trying not to look too impressed, but she knows it’s not working, because Shara’s mouth tugs into that satisfied smirk.

“Wow, you’re like, obsessed with me,” Shara says.

Chloe turns her face away. “Bye.”

Shara laughs and kisses Chloe hard on the cheek before she goes.





FROM THE BURN PILE


Teacher self-evaluation written by Jack Truman, choir instructor, scrapped and accidentally mixed in with a packet of sheet music eventually burned by Benjy