Read Online American Goth by J. D. Glass - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. D. Glass
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Gothic, Contemporary, Thrillers, Love Stories, Lesbian, Lesbians, Goth Culture (Subculture)
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thrummed and danced. I let it take me away from the ache in my muscles, the burning weight that suffused my shoulders and back. There was no rug beneath my knees, no fire that warmed my face, no air that cooled my back, no breath, no mind, no body, nothing but the Light and my reflection of it…
And that was how Cort found me in the morning just as the sun rose—position perfect and finally, finally, ready to go to sleep.
Freshmen
The mind is for seeing, the heart is for hearing
—Arabic Proverb
“Hi, Fran,” I said simply when she answered the phone, “it’s me—and I owe you a huge apology—I am so very sorry.”
She gracefully forgave me, and we caught each other up on everything.
Fran had deferred her freshman start at Columbia until the spring semester, “just putting the last four years into perspective. Adjusting, you know?” she said.
I suspected there was quite a bit more to it, but I let it go—if she wanted to talk about it, she would, and if our reasons were at all similar, I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, either. “Yeah, I get that. Me, too. Kinda why I’m staying in England for now. Oh, I, uh…” I took a deep breath. “I changed my name, by the way—Ann, you know, the middle of Samantha.”
She was silent a moment, and I knew her well enough to know she was thinking of all the reasons that might be behind it. “I can understand, I mean, it kinda suits you. Ann,” she said finally before falling quiet again. “When do you think you’ll come back?”
“I don’t think I’ll…I’m not certain.” I didn’t tell her that I was seriously considering “never.” I also didn’t tell her about anything else I’d been up to.
We changed the subject and as we continued to chat, we realized how much we did miss one another. And since her parents had decided to spend part of the winter in Italy because Fran’s older brother and sister (much older, almost ten years older, and twins besides—Gemma and Gianni) ran some sort of art studio in Milan and wouldn’t be home for the holidays and Fran was no longer in school…
“Hey,” I asked her, suddenly inspired, “why not stay with me for a bit then? Maybe even spend the holidays?”
“That sounds awesome—you’re saving my life here,” she said and I could hear both laughter and relief in her voice. “Think we can pull it off?”
It was easy enough to set up.
Uncle Cort seemed more than appropriately happy to give his okay, and it was decided that when we moved to the London apartment next month, Fran would stay with us there through the holidays, spend two weeks in Italy, then fly back to New York to start school.
“Wouldn’t your friend prefer to spend the holidays with her parents?” Elizabeth asked when we discussed the impending visit over dinner.
I chewed thoughtfully over my answer. “Fran…well, her parents, you know, they’re nice people—lovely, warm, polite, very, very appropriate, in all ways, at all times,” I said, “but it’s weird for her too.”
“Weird how?” Elizabeth asked. “You should finish that.” She pointed to the green things I was trying to avoid on my plate and gave me a quick smile.
My avoidance of vegetables had already become a running joke, and I grinned back at her as I took the smallest possible bite. But she’d asked me a question, and it deserved an answer.
“See, Fran’s dad is a politician back on Staten Island, wants to go from county representative to city or, even better, state office, and Fran,” I explained as I pushed the green around on my plate to make it look like I was doing something with it, “well, she’s…her dad’s a conservative and Fran’s gay,” I said simply. “It doesn’t really, uh, work well for him.”
I felt Uncle Cort’s eyes on me, and the warm sense of concern that flowed from him as Elizabeth watched me with interest.
“Do they mistreat her?” she asked, her voice gentle.
“No,” I said, the word hard and
And that was how Cort found me in the morning just as the sun rose—position perfect and finally, finally, ready to go to sleep.
Freshmen
The mind is for seeing, the heart is for hearing
—Arabic Proverb
“Hi, Fran,” I said simply when she answered the phone, “it’s me—and I owe you a huge apology—I am so very sorry.”
She gracefully forgave me, and we caught each other up on everything.
Fran had deferred her freshman start at Columbia until the spring semester, “just putting the last four years into perspective. Adjusting, you know?” she said.
I suspected there was quite a bit more to it, but I let it go—if she wanted to talk about it, she would, and if our reasons were at all similar, I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, either. “Yeah, I get that. Me, too. Kinda why I’m staying in England for now. Oh, I, uh…” I took a deep breath. “I changed my name, by the way—Ann, you know, the middle of Samantha.”
She was silent a moment, and I knew her well enough to know she was thinking of all the reasons that might be behind it. “I can understand, I mean, it kinda suits you. Ann,” she said finally before falling quiet again. “When do you think you’ll come back?”
“I don’t think I’ll…I’m not certain.” I didn’t tell her that I was seriously considering “never.” I also didn’t tell her about anything else I’d been up to.
We changed the subject and as we continued to chat, we realized how much we did miss one another. And since her parents had decided to spend part of the winter in Italy because Fran’s older brother and sister (much older, almost ten years older, and twins besides—Gemma and Gianni) ran some sort of art studio in Milan and wouldn’t be home for the holidays and Fran was no longer in school…
“Hey,” I asked her, suddenly inspired, “why not stay with me for a bit then? Maybe even spend the holidays?”
“That sounds awesome—you’re saving my life here,” she said and I could hear both laughter and relief in her voice. “Think we can pull it off?”
It was easy enough to set up.
Uncle Cort seemed more than appropriately happy to give his okay, and it was decided that when we moved to the London apartment next month, Fran would stay with us there through the holidays, spend two weeks in Italy, then fly back to New York to start school.
“Wouldn’t your friend prefer to spend the holidays with her parents?” Elizabeth asked when we discussed the impending visit over dinner.
I chewed thoughtfully over my answer. “Fran…well, her parents, you know, they’re nice people—lovely, warm, polite, very, very appropriate, in all ways, at all times,” I said, “but it’s weird for her too.”
“Weird how?” Elizabeth asked. “You should finish that.” She pointed to the green things I was trying to avoid on my plate and gave me a quick smile.
My avoidance of vegetables had already become a running joke, and I grinned back at her as I took the smallest possible bite. But she’d asked me a question, and it deserved an answer.
“See, Fran’s dad is a politician back on Staten Island, wants to go from county representative to city or, even better, state office, and Fran,” I explained as I pushed the green around on my plate to make it look like I was doing something with it, “well, she’s…her dad’s a conservative and Fran’s gay,” I said simply. “It doesn’t really, uh, work well for him.”
I felt Uncle Cort’s eyes on me, and the warm sense of concern that flowed from him as Elizabeth watched me with interest.
“Do they mistreat her?” she asked, her voice gentle.
“No,” I said, the word hard and
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