Being Kalli(34)

“Oh, it’s cool. Nothing really to say. Why the sudden questions?”

Do I say it? I knew this moment would come but looking at her now, I feel like a predator. She’s unsure, mindlessly flicking through the shelf of DVDs, body angled away from me. And her voice. It’s like she’s a mouse hiding who’s trying to pretend the hissing cat isn’t standing right there.

I can, I figure. I can ease into it.

“It’s just that … well with Steph, and …”

Now it’s Scout’s turn to stare me down. She tips her head and stares at me at a forty-five-degree angle.

“Um, Kalli Perkins? Is she home?” Scout asks, waving inches from my face.

At first I’m confused, but then it hits. Why the hell is Kalli Perkins so shy all of a sudden? I suck in a breath, and another, and slowly let it all out. She watches me do this. Her expression deepens from plain confused to wrinkles between her eyebrows.

“No thanks to my own fault, I’ve spent the last two and a half days keeping to myself and shitty, but it got me wondering.” And I’d rather talk about you than me. “You bring her up in a way you’ve never done before. You’ve never gushed over your boyfriends. She seems perfect for you, considering how happy you are, except for … you know …” … the fact you say you’re straight.

“Well …” She lets out a pent-up gulp of air. “I’m gay.”

It’s gone. Her very own release. If tension were a bird chained, a flock would be soaring from her body out into the world and now she can stretch and walk with tall shoulders. Now, I think I’m seeing Scout truly happy for the first time.

Look at the girl. She has this huge beam. Suddenly, she’s up, twirling around. Then she leaps into the air and curls up into a ball to let her mattress catch her. “It feels so good.”

“I know. I know!”

I follow her and launch onto the bed too, but stay in my superman-flight position and hit the bed full-force. If it’s possible, Scout grins wider and laughs harder.

Then she scoots away. “You don’t have to be like this with me, if you don’t feel comfortable. Or, crap, the kissing? Crap, it doesn’t matter. We can draw boundaries, and—”

“Shh.” I place my shh! finger to her lips. “You’re too awesome not to roll and jump and squeal with. It was always just fun when you’ve kissed me.”

“You don’t think I’m disgusting?”

“Scout,” I say.

Why would she think that? Scout has one of the kindest souls. It’s part of why I’m attracted to her. She has this lure that draws you in with her capacity to be so much fun, yet also willing to give so much time and care. Thinking about that, I realise I’m attracted to having her as my friend because I want to be more like her. Because I’m not like that.

My heart aches for Scout. She could have so much love in her life and she’s held back because of opinions? God, it hurts like someone has my heart in their grip.

“All right. Let me explain,” she says. “Those 5 feet, 10 inch blonde-haired, curvaceous Barbie-look-a-likes Dad slept with during those two affairs? One was a bulky Vin Diesel look-a-like named Chris, and the other was a just your plain-old-Joe-type guy. One night, I heard Mum and Dad arguing and hard as I try to forget it, when I’ve wanted to tell my family or you or anyone, I can only remember her saying, ‘You’re a stupid, embarrassing fag. You like dicks up your ass? You like to shit pancakes? You’re not a man. Men like women. Real men do their wives, not another man. I see you and have the urge to vomit.’”

I watch, slack jawed and unblinking until I realise she isn’t talking anymore, and then I overcompensate by blinking so fast her movements are staggered as she stands and paces her room. She stops, stares at me, and is sitting in front of me in an instant.

“Kalli, I don’t expect you to be okay that I haven’t told you all this time, but please know I choked up. Every time. I almost told Dad once, knowing he’s bisexual. But I figured if he’s stayed with Mum all this time she must have gotten to him, you know? I couldn’t tell my sister—she was as horrified as Mum, just a child at the time. I’m terrified to tell them and they’re family. I’m ashamed of what I am, and I can’t even tell them.”

I wrap my arms around her. I whisper to her, “Shame is vowing to love and be solely devoted to one person for the rest of your life, then cheating on them. Shame is being too self-absorbed to rank personality higher than an image.”

I hold her cheeks and angle her so she’s looking at my face so she knows I’m not lying. The eyes don’t lie. “There’s not one reason to be ashamed, however, of who you are.”