THIRTY-ONE
April 11, One Day to Austin Film Festival
The bookstore was small, split into two sections divided by long shelves with the cash register shyly tucked into a corner next to a series of “guide to LGBT parenting” books. The cashier was resting their elbows on the counter, eyes tilted downward towards a book splayed open to its last pages.
“Welcome to BookWoman,” they muttered, distracted.
The girls gave their obligatory thanks as they waded with Collin into the messily organized displays of glossy books, their bright covers still perfectly intact, not yet flipped through and bent backwards.
“Guys, they have a queer graphic novel section,” Dawn whispered in amazement. “A whole section.”
“Did you see this?” Edie pointed to a button section with buttons declaring things like douse me in honey and throw me to the lesbians! and I’m not gay but my boyfriend is.
“Oh my god, I need one of those,” exclaimed Georgia.
“Girl, you sound like your mom. Remember we went to Target that one time and she kept saying I need those curtains, I need this moisturizer, I need this blender.”
“‘Want’ is not a concept my mother is familiar with, and I’m at peace with that.”
As Edie looked at the shelves and shelves of queer literature, she reflected on her bookshelf at home. She owned two books with queer main characters in them, both white gay boys from tiny towns. She’d turned the binding around on her shelf so that her parents wouldn’t see the titles and ask her about them.
Here, they were freely out and on display, just another part of the store. The point, even, was their queerness.
Maybe there was hope. Maybe she could go to college and be okay. She wouldn’t have to tell her parents everything. She could turn the binding with them at home and still be herself at school.
Dawn wandered around shelves and pulled a few graphic novels from the shelf about lesbian ballerinas.
“I think I want to live here,” Dawn called out.
“Austin?” asked Georgia from across the room.
“No, this store. I want to die here and have my ashes spread in the parking lot.”
“No kidding.”
Edie picked up a book off the shelf and turned over the cover. She began to read the back cover to herself.
Abigail Reyes is at the top of her game. An early acceptance to Harvard, captain of the winningest high school soccer team in Connecticut, and two parents who loved her more than life itself. But when nonbinary new kid Sid Valentine comes to town to stay at her parents’ house, she loses her grip on good grades and begins to spend all her time thinking about them. Can she maintain her perfect life and find love for the very first time?
“Jesus Christ,” moaned Georgia, reading over her shoulder.
“Well I’m not not gonna get it.”
“No, I absolutely love the concept and need to borrow it as soon as possible, please and thank you. It’s just, I can already tell that it’s one of those books we’re going to hate to love. You know, first dates and prom nights and all that gooey stuff that just eats you.”
“I know. I can’t wait,” Edie laughed out loud.
She dropped her book at the cash register and waited for the cashier to look up from their book.
“Oh, I just read this,” the cashier said. “It’s actually super cute. Like, unbearably so.”
“Good. I’m shooting for mind-numbingly charming.” Edie smirked.
“We don’t really have many books about nonbinary people. Maybe fifteen, so it was really cool to get this one in.” She scanned the book and waved it back down to the counter as they spoke.
“Weird. Is there something happening here?” asked Edie, gesturing to a line of plastic chairs at the back of the store.
“Poetry reading. It’s in twenty minutes if you and your friends want to stick around.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” The cashier stuffed a bookmark with a purple giraffe on it into the fresh pages and slid Edie’s book back across the counter to her.
Edie took the book and tucked it under her arm as she walked back to a stack of paperbacks Dawn and Georgia were flipping through.
She thought about the space she was in and how it was so different from anywhere she’d been in Houston. Here she was buying queer literature amongst her very queer friends. She was in love and the world was set out in front of her for the taking. She felt like she could breathe for once. Being away from her parents was easy and nice and let her try new things, new ways of being. She started to think about the years ahead in college and all the ways she would change for the better. She could become more herself without judgement or the harsh emotional weight of always doing things right.
Dawn disappeared out of the store into the parking lot and left the girls and Collin to keep looking around.
Dawn felt the heat lap at the back of her neck as soon as she stepped outside. She kicked a few stubs of gravel and let her eyes glaze over at the rainbow flags and freshly stacked books decorating the storefront window.
A few minutes went by with the hot air brushing her skin a darker brown and the sound of two men arguing in the gas station parking lot across the street. Dawn couldn’t hear what they were saying but one of the men, clad in an acid-washed Grateful Dead shirt, kept pointing to a beat-up red car as he barked at the other. Dawn decided to sit on the curb and watch cars pile up on North Lamar.
Her lungs filled up slow and then quick with warm air. She crossed her arms and grabbed her shoulders then closed her eyes until everything was black with silver and green spots punching in and out of view.
The pressure of her own nervousness filled her up like a balloon at the edge of bursting into a hundred messy rubber pieces.
Her panic was interrupted by the sound of the bookstore’s front door opening and then the soft scuff of shoes next to her on the paved lot.
Collin bent down beside her and let a couple moments of silence go by without making a sound or movement.
“Collin, I am freaking the fuck out.”
“What’s going on?” He reached his right hand out above her head to create a shadow across her eyes.
“Thanks.” She looked at him for a moment in thought.
“I really want to win. I want to be here. Austin, I mean. I want to make movies and pretend to be normal and eat tacos and just exist. Is that insane? Am I the person who thinks they’re really good but really I’m just okay and shooting too high?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so badly.” She looked down at the pavement. “I mean, I really really need this to happen. It’s just … I feel like I’m setting myself up for a thousand-foot fall to the ground.”
“You’re being hopeful. That’s important.” Collin smiled but she couldn’t relax.
“Yeah but it’s also stupid and a terrible thing to put myself through if I don’t win.”
“Or a wonderful thing if you do. You’ll have proved yourself right. That you are an incredible filmmaker who deserves a huge opportunity.” He let his hands fly through the air as he spoke, a parade of excited gestures.
“I know. I just don’t want to fall. Or fail. I don’t want to fail and then fall.” Dawn bent over and let out a deep breath.
“You’re not going to fail.”
“How can you say that?”
“I believe in you.”
“I hope this doesn’t come off mean, like, at all, but I can’t go on belief.” Dawn took a deep breath and looked away from him. “Not yours. Not even mine.”
“I know, but it’s still true. No matter what happens, you will use your hands and your heart and your huge brain to make great movies. You could go home, take care of your dad, and write scripts or develop documentary ideas. At the end of the day, you are a star who will make incredible things happen. Look at what you’ve already done. You’re going to be okay no matter what.”
“I want to believe you.”
“Dawn Salcedo, you are the most talented person I know, and the world will see your work and grow from it. Please know that.” Collin reached his hand out and put it over hers.
Dawn felt like the quaking feeling in her head was settling down to stillness. Her nerves dissipated at his touch then picked back up slightly when she realized she might like the feeling of his palm on hers.
The store’s door squeaked open and Georgia peeked her head around the glass. Collin kept his hand firmly on top of hers and turned his head.
“The reading is about to start. Are y’all good?”
“Yeah, just a second.” Dawn waited for Georgia to disappear behind the door again then swiped at the single tear making its way down her cheek.
“You want a hug?”
“Yeah.” She settled her chin into his blue cardigan and noticed that he smelled just like his house—comfortable, clean sheets and sesame oil.
“Thank you, Collin. For everything.”
As the reading began, Dawn and Collin squeezed into the tiny arrangement of chairs beside Georgia and Edie. The once distracted and quiet cashier was suddenly alive, announcing the start of the poetry reading with an enthusiasm and verve that delighted the small crowd that was beginning to gather.
“Welcome to Campfire! I’m Allison and my pronouns are they/she. If you’re new here, Campfire is a monthly poetry reading featuring queer poets of Austin. This afternoon we have Oscar Huerta, Gemma Hoit, Penelope Stoner, and two free slots for any brave poets in the audience.”
The small group clapped and looked around.
“Don’t worry folks. New poets can hop in any time after the featured poets are done reading.”
“The rules are simple. Poets must introduce themselves, read a poem they love, then proceed with their own poem. Be respectful, snap if you’re feeling the vibe, and have fun.” People snapped in response and Allison smiled.
Georgia looked around and tried to figure out who the poets were, her people. The room was filled with thrifted clothes and haircuts her mother would call “unique.” It was lovely. People in their twenties and thirties pushed up against the shelves of queer, colorful books and held notepads and slung hand-painted canvas tote bags over their hunched shoulders as they tried to get comfortable for the reading.
“Alright, first up, I am so happy to introduce local beekeeper and lowkey icon, Oscar Huerta!”
The girl in front of her was leaning on her friend’s shoulder, so Georgia could just barely see someone inch towards the front of the audience, a deep green flannel tied around their waist.
“My name is Oscar Huerta. Thank you so much for the kind introduction, Allison. My pronouns are he/him. Um, I thought for a long time about which poem I would read first. Because there’s this inherent pressure with picking a poem you love. Too many favorites and all that.” He rubbed his finger against a plain blue notebook as he spoke.
“I ended up picking a Nathaniel Mackey poem that’s been playing through my mind lots this past month. I feel like it’s following me around so maybe it’s the right one. Not something I love but something that loves me enough to trail my thoughts.”
He started in on a poem Georgia recognized from Nod House. She closed her eyes to listen and snapped every time the words moved her to. The poem ended and the poet wrenched his hands around his notebook, explaining that the poem he was about to read was part of an upcoming chapbook.
His poem was slow, line after line about his boyfriend, his likeness to bees, how spring brought him out like fresh spilling sap. As each poet read, Georgia snapped like she had a right to be in the room, unselfconscious of the sound or the effect the words had on her. She belonged.
“Are you gonna go up there?” Dawn whispered as Allison made their way back to the front to ask for volunteers.
“I don’t know. I don’t have a poem picked out that I love. You’re supposed to read the work of someone else first.”
“Just pick something. You’re always sending Edie and me stuff. What about that Richard Siken you memorized last year?”
“That’s not bad. Yeah, I could do that.”
Allison’s voice came back to Georgia as she tried to gather up the courage to volunteer herself.
“Any new or old poets want to get up here? We have time for two volunteers. Please remember that Campfire is a space for both new and experienced writers. We would love to hear your words.”
Dawn raised her hand high and waved it frantically.
“Dawn!” Georgia uttered as she swatted her hand down.
“Looks like we have a volunteer! Please come to the front and introduce yourself.”
“Dawn, I will kill you and I will like it.” But, of course, she was thrilled and almost grateful for the push towards the uncomfortable.
She grabbed her phone out of her bag and walked to the front.
“My name is Georgia Graham and my pronouns are she/her. I’m from Houston. I’m visiting for the weekend, because my best friend is in the Austin Film Festival. Thanks for inviting me into this space.” Polite claps dispersed. “I actually have a poem I like so much I spent a few weeks last year memorizing it. Here we go.”
She started on the Richard Siken and quickly grew comfortable in the words. They spilled easily from her mouth like a friend’s phone number or dearly loved song. She closed her eyes and the lines flowed from her without thought. When it ended, she opened them and stared out at the rapidly snapping group of people who were older and maybe better than her.
“The poem I want to read is one I wrote for my friends who are here with me. Edie, Dawn, you’ve already heard this one, but I love you so much.”
She opened the poem she’d read to them at the beach on her phone and began to read.
She tried to ignore the crowd and instead focused on her voice, the curve of the stanzas on her lips. It felt like she was writing the poem as she read it out loud, wanting to cut certain words here and there as she listened to herself. Snaps came from the chairs sporadically, but Georgia tried to zone them out and kept reading until the end.
The room swelled with claps when she finished. Her chest tightened at the sight of all the strangers applauding her.
Georgia uttered a breathless thank you and scurried back to her seat.
“Geo, that was amazing,” poked Edie. She reached over Dawn to squeeze Georgia’s arm. “I mean, really great.”
Georgia smiled and folded her arms over herself. One more person from the crowd stood up to read, but Georgia could barely pay attention. The rush of the reading filled her head so that there wasn’t room to take in much else.
“I really liked your stuff. Keep it up,” a girl nodded to Georgia on her way out. Georgia could barely utter a thank you before she was gone, bubblegum pink hair swaying over her shoulders as she opened the door.
Georgia’s phone started ringing and she hurried to answer it, embarrassed she’d forgotten to turn it down during the reading in the first place.
“Hello?”
“Georgia, you got a letter,” the voice on the other end shrieked.
“Mom?” She thought of the note she’d left for her mother at home but quickly interrupted her own thinking as her mom’s words sunk in. “Wait, what letter?”
“It’s from Kenyon College, Georgia baby. It’s a big envelope.” Each word was a star shooting bright through the phone. Georgia felt dizzy and wonderful.
“Oh my god. Open it.” She pushed her way to the door and planted her feet on the pavement just outside. Cars rushed by as she waited for the news on the other end of the line.
“You sure? I can wait until you get home.” Georgia could hear her mother practically tap dancing over the phone.
“Nope. Just rip it open.” Georgia closed her eyes and tried to pay attention to the subtle sounds around her, the feeling of wind and heat on her skin. Her anxiety died down a little as she found the sound of birds, the crosswalk ding, and chattering voices in the parking lot. “I honestly feel like I’m going to die, so just do it.”
“The dramatics, G.”
“Mom,” Georgia whined. “Please just take me out of my misery.”
She heard the envelope ripping and the sound of paper being shaken out on their dinner table. The pause her mother took was excruciating.
“You got in, baby.”
“I did?”
“You got in, baby girl!”
Georgia started jumping up and down in the parking lot. Her bag jolted on her shoulder and shook as she punched her fist into the air.
“Mom, I’m going to college.”
“I know. I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it. When are you girls coming home Sunday? We should have a party.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll ask Dawn when the festival stuff is over. Maybe a party before graduation.”
“I’m so proud of you, Georgia.”
“Thanks, Mom. Okay, I gotta go. I think Dawn is trying to get my attention.” Georgia laughed at Dawn waving through the display window.
“Okay, honey. I’ll see you as soon as you get home.”
She hung up and walked back into the store. The cool air swept over her body and she felt lighter than ever.
“You okay? We were just getting ready to leave.” Dawn and Edie held the books they’d bought as Collin swiped his card at the counter.
“Yeah, that was my mom. I got into Kenyon.” She smiled huge getting to say it out loud.
“Geo, you star!” Dawn’s paper bag of new books split wide open as she dropped it onto the ground to pull Georgia in for a hug.
“It’s in Ohio,” Georgia murmured over Dawn’s shoulder.
“Queen of sowing her wild oats in nature,” Dawn said into Georgia’s hair as Edie joined the already messy hug.
“Something tells me you have no idea where Ohio is.” Georgia laughed, the tears just barely escaping her bottom lashes.
“Shut up. It’s in nature. It’s in America. It’s where you’re going to write your debut book of poetry,” Dawn laughed.
“I’m gonna be so far away.” Georgia wiped at her eyes as she felt the girls’ arms tight around her shoulders.
“We’ll write letters to each other. We’ll kiss the envelopes and put stickers on every sheet of paper. I mean, video chatting too, duh. But the letters feel like an important element.”
They all pulled away and Edie grabbed Georgia by both shoulders.
“You are incredible. I love you and your words so much.”
“Thanks, E. That means so much. I mean, I think you guys literally read my first poem like sophomore year.”
“Oh yeah. ‘Leaves of Grass,’ ” offered Dawn.
“That’s Walt Whitman.”
“No, that’s you. Your poem was called ‘Leaves of Grass.’ I remember that day in English like it was yesterday.”
“Wow, exposed,” added Edie. “I’m sorry, G. It was definitely called ‘Leaves of Grass.’ ”
“Jesus Christ. I’ve grown, people. I got into a writing program. I’m better now!”
Back home, Dawn and Edie stripped down to their underwear while Georgia hogged the hot shower water in the guest bathroom. Something about feeling too sweaty to sleep.
Edie got under the covers and waited for Dawn to curl up next to her like they did at every sleepover since the beginning of time, or at least sophomore year. They were the perfect heights to cuddle each other comfortably just like everyone is if they try hard enough. Dawn’s hands and thighs were cold, so it felt like being held by ice itself. Edie was used to this, the chill and then gradual warmth that eventually came with sleep.
“You’re gonna do great tomorrow.”
“I hope so.” Dawn’s words could barely be heard over the sound of the air conditioner flowing through the room. “I don’t want to go to sleep. I feel like the world is going to burst into flames overnight if I close my eyes.”
“Think of the sea. Think about sheep. Oh! Think of that ASMR video you like where the hot guy pretends to be your flight attendant.”
“I love that one.”
“I know.” Edie went quiet and settled her limbs over Dawn’s like water over stone. Things became blurry and dark and the night came onto them without warning.
“Are you guys cuddling without me?” Georgia’s voice rang from the bathroom.
Edie just barely opened her eyes enough to see the silhouette of Georgia’s body in the doorway.
“Come here,” Edie moaned out in her best zombie impression, her voice scratching with sleep.
Georgia tumbled into bed and joined the pile of warm bodies.
“What’s up?” she teased, evidently energized from the warm water.
“We’re asleep,” Edie groaned, words long and heavy from the day.
Edie wrapped her arms around Georgia’s waist as she plopped into the cuddle pile. Georgia fidgeted for a moment beneath Edie’s hands.
“Georgia, just close your eyes. Think about the future. Think about Ohio. Think about writing beneath a tree so huge you can’t even begin to see the top of it.”