“You guys have about twenty minutes before the show starts,” Jillian said to Angie as she hugged her from behind, her arms tight around Angie’s middle.
“No problem,” Maria told her, pulling a tray of stuffed mushroom caps from the oven. “I’ve got one more sheet to deal with, and we’ll be all set.”
“Man, you don’t mess around, Maria. When we said hors d’oeuvres, I was thinking cheese and crackers and some chips. Our guests are very impressed. The bacon-wrapped chicken bites were a huge hit.”
“And that’s why I asked for her help.” Angie kissed Jillian quickly on the lips. “How’s it going in there? Everybody having fun?”
Jillian nodded. “It’s great. I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
The news coverage had been nonstop, and Jillian had been following it for weeks. Magazine covers, talk shows, news reports. While it was fairly common knowledge that Ellen DeGeneres was a lesbian, she had never openly, publicly announced any such thing. Eventually, and apparently tired of being grist for the rumor mill, she decided to put the entire subject to rest once and for all. In just over fifteen minutes, the lead character she portrayed in her sitcom, Ellen, was going to come out. On national television. For the first time ever. Ever.
Jillian stood on the threshold between the kitchen and living room. Perched on an arm of the couch was Kevin Webster and his wife, Keisha, leaning against him. They were a young newlywed couple who’d moved into the house next door just three months ago. They were friendly, fun, and open, coming over for dinner, the fact that they’d moved in next to a lesbian couple not fazing them at all. Tinny, from softball, sat in the corner of the couch, sipping a Labatt’s Blue Light. Her current girlfriend—they changed on a frequent and regular basis—sat in her lap. Deb was a tiny little thing with a nose ring and a buzz cut. The rest of the couch was occupied by Mike Klein and his wife, Gina. They lived across the street and had been the first people to welcome Jillian and Angie to the neighborhood by bringing them an apple pie hot out of the oven. On the floor near Gina’s feet, leaning her back against the couch, sat Marina, and Jillian thought she looked less like an elementary school teacher and more like an old friend. Their initial bond from that first year of teaching had only solidified, and Marina had told Jillian in no uncertain terms that she wanted to be with her for the “big reveal,” as she called it. Boo was stretched out next to her, her head on Marina’s thigh, totally in love judging from the look in her brown eyes. Next to Marina sat Hope, the two of them with their heads bent close, lost in conversation. In the overstuffed chair in the corner, Shay sat comfortably with a glass of white wine while Laura perched on the arm of it, beer in one hand, her arm around Shay’s shoulders. Jillian’s brother Brian stood at the end of the couch, quietly taking it all in, but smiling just the same.
Jillian’s heart warmed as she moved her gaze from one person to the next, marveling that there were more straight than gay people in the room. But that was typical, wasn’t it? There were many more straight people in the world, so it made sense. The important point was that these people loved her. They loved Angie. And they loved the two of them as a couple. That was the most important factor. She and Angie had managed to surround themselves with people who loved them together.
Her eyes misted.
“Hot stuff coming through!” Maria bumped Jillian out of the way with a hip so she could set a plate of goodies on the coffee table.
“Yeah, but what about the food?” Jillian asked with a wink.
“More food?” Kevin said, happily bewildered. “I might just move in.” He grabbed a mushroom cap and popped it into his mouth.
“Wouldn’t be long before you weighed three hundred pounds,” Keisha teased him.
“Only if Maria moved in, too,” Angie joked, coming up behind Jillian and wrapping her in an embrace. In her ear she whispered, “You okay, babe?”
Jillian cleared her throat and nodded. “I’m great.”
“Here.” Angie held a glass of wine in front of her.
“Is it weird that I’m nervous?”
“Not at all. I am too.”
As if overhearing them, Laura looked over at them and said, “I’ve got butterflies.”
“So do I,” Marina chimed in. “And I’m not even gay.”
“Same here,” Hope said with an infectious grin. “It’s so exciting!”
Deb stood up. “Before we get caught up, I’d like to propose a toast.” She held up her beer; the rest of the room followed suit. “To Jillian and Angie, for opening their home to us, to all of you who are here to celebrate with us, and to Ellen DeGeneres for making history.”
“Cheers!”
Moments later, the show began.
It moved along at seemingly breakneck speed, despite Jillian willing it to slow down so she could savor. The writing was tight and snappy. She laughed out loud on several occasions, along with everyone else. Laura Dern playing Susan, an out lesbian, made the fictional Ellen Morgan question her own sexuality. Jillian watched Ellen be told by Susan that she gave off a “gay vibe,” then try to reject that ridiculous notion by throwing herself at a man, before finally talking with her therapist about her confusion—and she wondered how many lesbians watching right that moment had gone through exactly the same thing. She was lucky that she’d understood and accepted her own sexuality at a fairly young age. But she knew many lesbians who hadn’t come out until their thirties, forties, or even later. Here was their story, playing out on national television for the first time. It was liberating, stunning.
At one point, Tinny commented, “I’ve always liked Laura Dern. Is it wrong that I’m now completely in love with her?” earning her a playful slap from Deb.
And when Ellen leaned too close to the airport microphone and said out loud to Susan, “I’m gay,” tears filled Jillian’s eyes and then streamed down her cheeks. She felt Angie’s grip on her tighten, and when she turned to look at her face, her eyes were full, too. Shay and Laura were locked in an embrace, and both their faces were etched with emotion. The next second, just as it happened on the show, the entire room burst into applause. As the show broke for commercials, everyone stood and hugged each other, kissed cheeks and lips, slapped backs.
When the buzz died down, and the credits rolled, Jillian spoke to her friends.
“I don’t know how to thank you all for being here, for supporting us, for being our friends. We just witnessed history. It sounds a little corny, but it’s true. Not only that, but I can honestly say that I can’t ever remember feeling quite as proud of who I am than I do right this second.” She sniffled. “And now I will stop talking before I start sobbing.”
Later that night, as Jillian stood at the bathroom sink brushing her teeth, she tried to analyze the unfamiliar emotions that hit during the show. The part about being proud? It was absolutely true. She’d always thought she was comfortable in her own skin, but now she knew that wasn’t quite honest, that there’d always been a small sliver of her being that was hidden, just in case. As she rinsed her mouth and glanced up into the bathroom mirror, she caught a quick flash of her mother’s eyes in her own reflection. Not for the first time, she debated over whether she wished her mother had been there to see the Ellen episode or if it was better that she hadn’t. She could almost hear how the conversation would have gone.
“Mom, we’re having a party to watch Ellen’s coming out. You should come over.”
“I will never understand the need to announce such a thing.” Jillian could see her face, how she’d purse her lips in disapproval, arch one eyebrow as she spoke.
“It’s historical, Mom. It’s visibility for the LGBT community.”
“You know, this is why you people have such trouble. Because you need to talk about it incessantly. It’s private. Private things should stay that way. What you people do in your bedroom is your own business, but I don’t need to hear about it.”
It would have been awful.
But still, having her here and irritated would be better than not having her here at all. Wouldn’t it?
She still couldn’t decide.
“Honey.” Angie’s voice pulled her from her musings. “I’m cold. Come to bed and warm me up.”
Jillian finished up and crawled into bed, snuggling in close to Angie even as her thoughts whirled. “I kind of wish my mom had been here.”
“Really?” Angie didn’t disguise her surprise, which made Jillian chuckle.
“Yeah, I know. She would’ve hated it. Honestly, she wouldn’t have come. I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
Angie squeezed her tight, placed a kiss on her forehead. “Sweetie, it’s okay to miss her, to want her here.”
“But it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I wish she’d been present at an event she would have despised. Vocally.”
“It’s not ridiculous.”
After a pause, Jillian propped her head on her hand, looked down at Angie, and said quietly and with no small amount of wonder, “I feel proud tonight. Of being gay. I’m proud of who I am. I’ve never really felt that.”
Angie nodded. “That’s why you wish your mom had been here.”
Jillian dropped back down to Angie’s shoulder and blew out a breath. “Yeah, but she would’ve hated it.”
Her thoughts continued to swirl long after Angie had fallen asleep.
In the weeks that followed, the shift that Jillian had felt stayed with her, and it was on her mind often. She remembered reading somewhere that your thirties are the “age of enlightenment,” and she wondered now if maybe that was true. Somehow, she felt newly invested in her life, as if she’d suddenly started paying more attention. There was no way to explain it, though she tried on more than one occasion. Instead, she sat with it, embraced it, and then ran with it, feeling free and solid.
Unfortunately, the same feelings didn’t seem to be affecting Angie, who was a million miles away during dinner on a night in early June.
“You should have seen Bradley today,” Jillian said, referring to one of her shyer students. “He had a color mix going, and I swear his paper looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. I’m not sure what got into him, but he found a combination he liked, and he just went with it.” She scooped a forkful of potato into her mouth and watched Angie push her food around her plate. After a moment of silence, she went on. “And then a mob of angry leprechauns broke into my classroom and demanded all the green paint.”
Angie gave a faint nod and took a slug from her wine glass.
Jillian blew out a breath. “What is wrong with you?”
Angie blinked at her. “What?”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. What’s going on?”
With a grimace, Angie shook her head. “I think I’m on the verge of losing Davis Direct.”
“Seriously?” It was one of Angie’s larger catalog companies. Jillian knew she’d worked hard to get it, that it contributed a nice percentage to her commission—and that the Davis head of marketing, Jim Carmen, was notoriously fickle. Angie had told her all of this when she’d landed the account over a year ago. “What happened?”
Angie’s expression was grim. “Freaking Carmen. He’s such a jerk. He’s making me bid now. I set the whole program up for him, get everything stocked and printed and logo’d, present him with very fair pricing—honestly, I should be marking his stuff up a lot more than I am—and what does he do? He starts collecting quotes. So he gets a lower price, then shows it to me like I’m ripping him off.” She grabbed the wine bottle and topped off her glass. “How many times have I taken him out to dinner? Nice dinner. Or drinks? He’s never paid for a thing. I take care of him. And this is the thanks I get? Asshole.”
It had been a while since Jillian had seen Angie quite this angry, and she winced as some of the red wine sloshed onto the table. “Babe. Calm down. It’s okay.”
Angie shot her a look, and Jillian pressed her lips together. Obviously, Angie was in no mood to be talked down. Maybe it’s better to just let her vent, she decided and kept quiet.
“Do these people think I’m not supposed to make any money? That I’m working for free?” She downed a third of her glass in one gulp. “Do you know what the worst part is?” Without waiting for Jillian to answer, she went on. “It’s that the next guy who does the Davis Direct catalog will have it so easy because I’ve already done all the work. I found the products, I priced them out, I estimated shipping costs. All Carmen has to do is pass my catalog on to the new guy and tell him to come in just a little lower. It’s so unfair.”
“I know, babe. What about Mr. Guelli? Can he help? Talk to Carmen maybe?”
Angie barked a sarcastic laugh and drained her glass. “If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize, it’s that Guelli is a guy who owns a sales company but has no idea how to sell a thing. He’s a freaking dinosaur. Honestly, I’d rather keep him away from my clients than have him meet any of them. He’s embarrassing. I hate this business.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. What can I do to help?”
Angie’s scoff made Jillian flinch almost as much as Angie’s next words. “No offense, Jill, but you work with six-year-olds all day. This is way beyond you.”
Jillian poked at her cheek with her tongue, nodded slowly, and stood from the table. “Okay. Got it.” She whistled for Boo, grabbed her leash, and was on her way out the side door when she heard Angie finally speak up.
“Jillian. Wait.”
She kept going.