“Oh, just some general chit-chat,” Mrs. Flemington answered as she took the lead. “Since we were all here when you girls visited, we just wanted to let you know what we do so we wouldn’t seem so weird.”
“OK,” Sara said slowly.
My mother started to speak. “I think I might have mentioned my group to you once before, Sara, but maybe not,” she said. “Basically we’re a kind of support group. We’ve all had bad relationships, mostly divorces, so we meet just to swap stories and be there for each other.”
“Divorces?” Allison asked. “You’re all so young, though.”
I was surprised by her statement. I figured that she would think of their divorces as objects for ridicule and scorn. Maybe she was a little deeper than I first guessed.
“Thank you for that compliment,” Mrs. Flemington said. “I’m 36, and I’m the oldest of us. It’s sad to say, but after a divorce it feels a lot older.”
“How so?” Christine asked.
“It’s pretty emotionally draining,” Mrs. Gabrielli answered. “There’s a lot of stress and worry and…it takes a toll.” She maintained her composure as best she could. It seemed obvious she thought of her abusive ex-husband.
“What Mrs. Gabrielli means is that you feel older than you are,” Mrs. Priven interjected. “You have to wonder if it’s your fault and worry if you’re ever going to find someone again.”
“Or worry about him finding you,” Mrs. Gabrielli said loudly. All of the ladies gasped slightly while Christine, Allison and Sara looked confused. Mrs. Gabrielli proceeded to give a summarized version of her marriage, complete with the abuse she suffered, her husband’s arrest and imprisonment and her flight to this town. The girls looked stunned.
“What a bastard!” Allison exclaimed at the conclusion. “That’s so horrible,” she said.
Mrs. Gabrielli wiped away a few tears. “It’s fine now,” she said. “I found these great women who have been there for me. I’m not really worried about him finding me, since he’ll be locked up for a while, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about that possibility.”
“It’s good to know that women can find support like this,” Sara said. “I’ve just read all these stories about women who couldn’t find an escape from something like that.”
My mother shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just all about finding the right man,” she said.
Allison scoffed. “Who needs them?” she said. Christine looked at her with a stunned look.
“Oh, they’re not so bad, really,” Mrs. Janson said. “You can’t judge all of them just because of our experiences, or because of what you read,” she reasoned.
“I say they are,” Allison said. “I look at the boys in our high school and I don’t see much chance of them improving over time. They’re either muscle-headed jocks with the brain power of rocks or they’re nerds or they’re just not interesting. They don’t do anything for me.” Christine’s look of shock grew. It appeared that Allison was more vocal than usual.
“Sorry to pry,” my mother said, “but what exactly do you mean?”
Allison looked at her. “I’m into girls,” she admitted. “I’m a lesbian, whatever you want to say. And quite frankly, I’m sick of hiding it.” She looked at Christine. Christine’s face was red as a tomato. Allison placed her hand on Christine’s leg. “Christine is my girlfriend.”
The room was filled with stunned expressions. I couldn’t believe what I heard. Sara looked absolutely flabbergasted. Christine looked like she was ready to faint. “What the hell are you doing?” she quietly asked Allison.
“It’s time,” Allison answered. “I’m fed up with disguising who I am. I can’t tell my parents.”
“I can’t either,” Christine said, her voice still very soft. “So why are you telling a bunch of strangers?”
“Because,” Allison replied. “They get it. They’re not going to judge us. They support each other, so do you think they go talking about each other to people that aren’t here?”
Christine looked at my mother. “We don’t,” she confirmed.
Christine looked back at Allison. “You could have given me some warning that you were going to out me,” she said.
Allison said, “Sara and Joe knew already, you know that. It’s time for us. Time to stop lying to everyone.”
“I still can’t tell my parents,” Christine said. “I don’t want the whole school to know. Maybe you’re ready to deal with that, but I’m not.”
“Girls, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Mrs. Flemington said. “I think I—we can all understand what this must be like for you. Have you really not shared this with anyone else?”
“Just Sara,” Christine said. “We kind of figured Joe knew because they’re going out, and that was OK. I trusted that he wouldn’t tell anyone.” She turned around to look at me. “Please tell me you never did, Joe.”
I saw fear on her face. The truth was that I just told all of the women, but now they knew anyway. Still I didn’t want to risk upsetting her more so I told a lie. “No, I have not,” I answered.
“So I guess the only people that know are in this room,” Christine said as she turned back to the group.
“This may sound strange,” Mrs. Flemington said. “We’d be happy to have you girls join our little group, so that you can have some understanding people to listen to you.” The rest of the women nodded in agreement.
Christine wiped a tear away from her eye. “That would be nice,” she said. “Al?” she asked as she looked at Allison.
“Yea,” Allison agreed. “Maybe you’d be able to help us prepare to tell our parents one day or something.”
“There’s just one other thing we have to tell you about our group,” Mrs. Flemington said.