“Forget it,” Nora said. Now she felt dumb and angry. “Forget I said anything.”
“I’m sorry I’m teasing you,” Simone said, still playing with Nora’s hair. “I can’t help it. I like watching you blush. It’s cute. You only turn pink right there.” She touched the middle of Nora’s cheeks with her fingertips. “It’s like a trick.”
Nora batted Simone’s hand away. “It’s just— I had a boyfriend last year!”
“So did I.”
“You did?”
“Sure. I don’t have him anymore. He was very beautiful. Supersexy but dumb as a rock. He kept talking about how he wanted to visit China because moo shu pork is the perfect food. God, he was dumb. But beautiful!” Simone flashed her brilliant smile. “Not as beautiful as you. I like you better, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“So what do you tell people?”
“What people?”
“I don’t know. Everyone. Your friends, your parents. I mean. Are you out?”
“First of all, I don’t tell them anything because it’s none of their business. I bring home boys. I bring home girls. It’s not a big deal.” Nora was staring at Simone, disbelieving. It couldn’t possibly be that easy. It couldn’t. “Am I hurting your feelings?” Simone said. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m just not into labels.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why? I mean, if I were a boy would you have to ‘come out’ about it? Would you go home and say, ‘Mom, there’s something you need to know. I kissed a boy and I liked it.’”
“It’s not the same thing. Or maybe my parents are just nothing like yours.”
Simone shrugged. “I’d say that’s a safe bet.” She rebuttoned her lime-green cardigan and stood up. “My parents are cool. My mom’s brother is gay and it wasn’t easy for him. My grandparents were super religious and, well, they were really hard on him. Always. But my mom and him—he’s Simon, I’m named after him—they’re really close. We’re his family now.”
“My mother has a gay brother, too.” Nora was still sitting, looking up at Simone.
“Really?” Simone said. “Does she not approve?”
“No, no,” Nora said, trying to think of an easy way to explain the Plumb family and their various alliances and grievances. “They’re not close, but it’s complicated. They’re all kind of weird.”
“Everybody’s kind of weird.” Simone put her hand out for Nora, helping her to her feet. “Your problem is you’re worried about being everyone’s mirror and that’s not your job.”
Nora braced herself; she could tell Simone was gearing up for one of her frequent—and sometimes baffling—extemporaneous lectures. Nora knew now just to listen and nod and say, Wow, I never thought of it that way, and then Simone would say, I live to elucidate, and then they could talk about something else. “Mirror?” Nora said, because Simone seemed to be waiting.
“Everyone’s always on the hunt for a mirror. It’s basic psychology. You want to see yourself reflected in others. Others—your sister, your parents—they want to look at you and see themselves. They want you to be a flattering reflection of them—and vice-versa. It’s normal. I suppose it’s really normal if you’re a twin. But being somebody else’s mirror? That is not your job.”
Nora slumped against the wall a little. What Simone said made sense, a lot of sense, but so did wanting to see yourself in the people you love. So did wanting to reflect the people you love. “How do you know all this stuff?” she asked Simone.
“Some people have to learn this stuff sooner than others.”
Nora didn’t have to ask what Simone meant. The previous week they’d been in the museum gift shop looking for candy when a couple had walked up to Simone and asked whether she knew where they could find a rock tumbling kit.
“No, I don’t,” she’d said, concentrating on the shelf of candy in front of her.
They’d persisted. “Well, can you find someone who will help us?”
Simone had turned to face them then and crossed her arms. “No, I can’t,” she’d said. “Because I am not employed here. Like you, I am a customer.” Even by Simone standards, her tone was blistering.
The couple, flustered, apologized. “We were just confused because you weren’t wearing an overcoat,” the woman said.
“Oh, I know exactly why you were confused,” Simone had said.
“Hello?” Simone tapped the top of Nora’s shoe with hers, reclaiming her attention. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Being somebody’s looking glass is not your job.”
“I understand. I get it. But it’s not just everyone else; it’s me, too. I like definitions. I like to be sure of what’s happening.”
Simone put a consoling arm around Nora. “You can be sure about me.”
Nora wished they were alone. She wished they could go somewhere and just be alone. If she told Louisa what was going on, maybe they could. Maybe they could stop these stupid afternoons at the museum, stop sneaking around.