Personal Narrative Fiction

Words: 912

Pages: 4

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I was nine years old when my dad left. Over dinner a week earlier I’d regaled them with stories of my crush before I learned it was wrong. How she had pretty, long, brown legs and how the red sequins in her miniskirt sent shimmering reflections across the lockers. My mother had smiled. My father hadn’t.

And then he was gone.

It’d been eleven years since I’d seen him and it’d been eleven years since I’d mentioned my preference for girls. Then I screwed up. I shouldn’t have drank that beer at my roommate's party, I shouldn’t have chimed into the boyfriend debate, and I definitely, definitely should not have mentioned how hot I thought our classmate was.

Now, because of me, it was quiet in our apartment. Alice sat as far away as she could get, squeezing against the arm. We were surrounded by papers and textbooks and silence. I refused to talk first. …show more content…
She cleared her throat twice.

“We need to talk about what you said,” she said.

“Do we?”

“Yeah. I mean, you can’t suddenly come out like that and expect nothing to change.” I had hoped nothing would change. I should have known better.

“Can’t I?”

“You have to talk to me. We're friends, right?”

“What’s there to talk about? I like girls. End of story. What’s the big deal?” I said. The skin of my knuckles turned white as I gripped my pencil.

“There isn’t one.” Her eyes jumped away from me. “Just, why didn’t you tell me?” I shrugged. “There has to be a reason.”

“No there doesn’t.”

“Yeah, there does. I’ve known you since we were twelve and you’ve never said anything.”

“I didn’t really see a reason to. You’ve always said sexuality doesn’t matter. So it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m just wondering why you never told me.”

“You never told me you were straight,” I said, rubbing my

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