Even though Ivy is over three years older than me, from the time I could talk, I felt like I needed to tell her what to do, what to think, what emotions to express. There’s a home video of me at age four, ordering seven-year-old Ivy to tell Mom she loves her because it’s Mother’s Day and that’s what you’re supposed to say on Mother’s Day. Ivy turns to Mom and obediently repeats “I love you” with almost no intonation. Mom makes a big fuss over it and slathers her with hugs and kisses, which Ivy endures.
The point is, I’ve always helped Ivy express the emotions I was sure she was feeling and just couldn’t put into words. I’ve been assuming that she does feel something for Ethan—?affection, attraction, maybe even lust or love—?and I’ve been trying to guide her responses to him.
But right now I’m confused. I’m not sure what she’s feeling, for him or for Diana. I want to ask her more questions and I also want to run away from the whole complicated mess.
She finishes her milk and leaves the kitchen.
I come up to our room a little while later. Ivy’s circling the rug, whispering to herself and gently weaving her hands through the air. I sit at my desk and open my laptop.
“Chloe?” she says, approaching me.
“What?”
“Do you want to kiss Sarah?”
Wow. She’s definitely thinking thoughts. “Not really. I mean, we hug when we haven’t seen each other for a while . . . But I don’t want to kiss her on the lips or anything like that. Why?”
She thumps her hands softly against her hips. “I don’t know. I just wondered.”
“Is something worrying you?”
She shakes her head, but it’s pretty clear she’s feeling anxious.
“Is it something to do with Diana?” I ask.
“Don’t be mad at me,” she says. “But I think I want to kiss her.”
“Why would I be mad about that?”
“You don’t want to kiss Sarah, and she’s your best friend, and I want to kiss Diana, and she’s my best friend. Do you think that’s bad?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why don’t you want to kiss Sarah the way you kiss James?”
“Is that how you want to kiss Diana? Like I kiss James?”
Ivy hesitates and then whispers, “Yes.”
I’m tempted to run away from this conversation—?it’s so heavy, and shouldn’t this be Mom’s job?—?but Ivy needs me to stay in it with her. “Are you—” I stop. “Do you—” I stop again. Then: “You know how sometimes guys marry guys and women marry women?”
“Yeah. That’s because they’re gay.”
“Right.”
“And that’s okay,” Ivy says, like she’s memorized it. “Boys can love boys, and girls can love girls. And sometimes people are bisexual and love both.”
“Right,” I say again.
We’re silent. I watch her. She stares at the wall and bumps her palms rhythmically against her legs—?more thoughtfully now than nervously.
“Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not gay, right?”
“I don’t think so. I like kissing boys.”
“I don’t. I mean, I’ve never really kissed a boy or a girl, but I didn’t like it when Ethan kissed me.” A pause. “Chloe?”
I’m pretty sure I know where this is leading, and I feel a strange mixture of elation and confusion and shock—?and a tiny edge of hysteria. “Yes, Ivy?”
“Could I be gay?”
I keep my voice matter-of-fact. “Yeah. I mean, anyone can be gay. Do you think maybe you are?”
“I don’t know.” Poor Ivy—?she’s so used to taking her cues from other people. And we’ve—?I’ve—?been leading her in a completely different direction, automatically assuming something that might have been totally wrong.
I say slowly, “If you’d rather kiss Diana than Ethan, it could mean that you’re gay. Or that you’re bisexual and you just happen to like that particular girl more than that particular boy.”
“I do like Diana more than Ethan.”
“Right, but . . .” How do I help her figure all this out? “Have you ever wanted to kiss a boy? Or hug him super close?”
She thinks. Shakes her head.
“Any girls other than Diana?”
She thinks some more. “I don’t know. Maybe. There was this girl back in my old school. I liked the way she had wings on her eyes.”
“Wings on her eyes? You mean eyeliner?”
“Yeah! But it went up like wings. I liked to look at her eyes a lot. She was really pretty.” There’s a pause. “Chloe?”
“Yeah?”
“I think maybe I’m gay.”
My first thought is, Oh, crap, this is going to make her life harder. And then I realize that Ivy already feels isolated most of the time. This won’t really change anything much.
Plus . . . she likes someone! Someone in her class. Someone who’s also on the autistic spectrum. Wasn’t that what I wanted for her all along?
“Do you think Diana likes you as much as you like her?” I ask.
Her hands thump a little faster. “I don’t know.”
I hadn’t gotten the vibe from Diana that she wanted to be as close to Ivy as Ivy wanted to be to her, but maybe Diana’s just not all that into being touched—?a lot of autistic people aren’t. That wouldn’t necessarily mean she’s not in love with Ivy.
She wears overalls a lot, right? Maybe that’s a good sign?
Okay. Now I’m being ridiculous.
How amazing would it be, though, if Diana felt the same way about Ivy that Ivy feels about her? She could be the friend, confidante, and companion that Ivy will need after I go to college. Maybe they could even get a small apartment together in a couple of years and live happily ever after with a terrier named Eleanor Roosevelt and a cat named Sappho—?
Ivy breaks into my daydream. “Chloe? Should I text Diana to say I’m gay and ask her if she is?”
“Umm . . .” Why are you asking me? I’m seventeen and don’t know anything about what to do when you’re autistic and gay. But Ivy expects me to guide her, like I always do. She still trusts me, even though it’s starting to look like I’ve been leading her in the wrong direction all this time. I say, “Maybe don’t rush into it yet? This was the first time you guys have even gotten together outside of school. Maybe wait until you’ve spent more time together.”
“Can I tell Ethan?”