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The rain beat down upon the barn roof like horse hooves. Georgia watched the storm clouds churn from her seat among the rafters, her back pressed flush against the wall and her hands cozied inside her jean pockets. There wasn’t much work to do on rainy days. She couldn’t tend the yard or take care of deliveries, and her father kept her out of the shop on explicit orders to enjoy her day off. By all accounts, Georgia was home free to do whatever the hell she wanted.
In the meantime, she sat in the barn rafters fidgeting with her hopelessly knotted earbuds, sinking into her tan cable-knit sweater to keep out the late spring chill, and desperately ignoring the scrap of notebook paper tucked beneath her.
When she couldn’t take it anymore, Georgia shifted and fetched the crinkled note from her back pocket. She pulled the paper into the light, caught a glimpse of its lettering, and shoved it back into her pocket. Her hands shook; she cranked the volume on her hand-me-down iPod and closed her eyes. It wasn’t like she needed the paper anyways. She’d memorized the important bits anyway. It wasn’t perfect, and she was still liable to panic and ditch the plan altogether when the moment finally came. Letters from the note flashed across the inside of her eyelids like spots of light.
Laney, can we talk? I’m bisexual gay queer? I like girls. I hope This doesn’t have to change our friendship. I thought you deserved to know. I’m still the same Georgia you know.
Please don’t hate me.
The quiet snap of a shuttering umbrella roused her from her thoughts. Georgia pushed herself forward and swung down from her beam, her feet hitting the earth just as Laney appeared.
Laney snapped her umbrella shut with a tired smile, her neat blonde hair ever so slightly disheveled by the rain and wind. It was rare to see the town chef’s daughter in any state other than picturesque; Georgia felt blessed to be among the few people Laney trusted enough to relax and be herself around. Will that change today?
“Mornin’!” Georgia chirped, trying to keep the nervous edge from her voice. “Awful nice of you to stop by.”
“Good morning, Georgia,” Laney replied. She did a small curtsey out of habit while wringing the rainwater from her red cardigan, and Goddess, it was so, so cute . Georgia loved and hated that she noticed all the small details about Laney, down to the involuntary tics Laney herself wasn’t aware of. The blonde replaced her cardigan around her shoulders and caught Georgia’s gaze. “Some rain we’re having, huh? How is Dakota?”
“Getting some shut-eye, poor thing. She was in an awful state earlier. The thunder scares her stiff.” Georgia took Laney’s frilly blue umbrella and hung it on the coat rack.
Today. She would tell Laney today. It was comforting to say it like a fact. Rain fell. Apples grew on trees. Horses had four legs. Today, Georgia would tell Laney she liked girls.
It shouldn’t feel like nearly this big of a deal. It shouldn’t feel nearly this terrifying .
“Is it okay to talk here?” Laney asked. She frowned and glanced at the back of the barn. “I wouldn’t want to wake Dakota when she’s sleeping so peacefully.”
“Nah, Dakota’s all set. Once she’s down, it’d take an avalanche to wake her up again.” She gestured to the rafters with her thumb. “Wanna have a seat? We could listen to music, or I could grab us snacks from inside.”
“Oh!” Laney snapped her fingers and reached into a small bag at her feet. She retrieved a small Tupperware with a spoon and cracked open the lid. “Speaking of snacks, I tried out a new fried rice recipe, and I need a second opinion on how it tastes. Could I offer a tribute to Bluebell’s resident fried rice connoisseur?”
Georgia’s mouth watered, but she managed to keep her cool long enough to say: “Absolutely. C’mon up to the roof, the seating’s better.”
They scaled the rickety ladder and tucked themselves into the cubby between the barn roof and the rafters. Georgia tried Laney’s fried rice. The taste was sweet with a hint of cheese and a spice she couldn’t name. They discussed the latest gossip spreading in the streets of Bluebell, debated which album was Taylor Swift’s greatest (Laney argued in favor of 1989 , but Georgia would never emotionally recover from Red), and occasionally sat in comfortable silence while the rain fell. Briefly, Georgia forgot her mission and settled for stealing glances at Laney instead, marveling at how gracefully she perched upon her wooden throne, watching as her lithe, manicured fingers toyed with the Tupperware lid in her lap.
Was it wrong to look at her best friend this way? Shame colored Georgia’s cheeks, and she averted her gaze.
“Could I tell you something?” Georgia blurted.
“Of course,” Laney replied. “Is something wrong?”
Georgia took a deep breath. She stood at the edge of a cliff. She was taking a one-way flight. She sat in the leather seat of a tattoo parlor, ready to ink, her forehead primed with a stencil that read ‘faggot’. Before she could dwell on her thoughts any further, she took the plunge.
“I like girls.” Once she started speaking, the words scattered from her lips like bats from a cave, clambering over one another in a frenzied swarm. “I think I’ve liked girls for a long time, lookin’ back on it. I’ve had crushes on guys before, but I always felt the same about girls, and I never thought to bring it up because I just… reckoned everyone felt that way.”
Rain battered the roof above them. The stiff silence sent Georgia’s heart racing, and she hurried to fill the gap.
“This doesn’t have to change our friendship at all,” she stammered. “I’m still me. Still the same ol’ Georgia. I haven’t told anyone else yet, but I thought you deserved to know. I felt like I wasn’t being honest with you when we talked about celebrity crushes, or guys, or anything really. You’re an amazing human being, Laney, and you deserve someone who treats you like it. I… I’m bi.” (Somehow, the sexual felt too dirty to say out loud, too much like oversharing. Internalized homophobia was a hell of a drug, one Georgia had yet to go cold turkey on).
Laney was still silent.
“Um, is that okay?” Georgia asked, her voice cracking with a nervous chuckle. She finally mustered the courage to lift her gaze from the floor. Laney was watching her with an attentive stare, her expression unreadable.
Suddenly, Laney’s eyes widened. “Oh, sorry! Yes! I just wanted to– didn’t want to interrupt, you know, in case you were still talking. Are you done?”
Georgia nodded with a tight smile, unable to stop herself from fiddling with the edge of her sweater. Papa will kill me if I ruin the knit, she thought distantly.
“First of all, uh, wow,” Laney began. “That’s– I mean, that’s awesome. I’m really glad you feel comfortable telling me this. Thank you. I, uh… support you.” She snorted quietly. “Goddess, that sounds so perfunctory. I do support you, though. I really do.”
Georgia grinned, finally meeting Laney’s eyes. Laney returned her smile, then her face grew serious again.
“Second of all– and don’t blame yourself for this– please don’t feel like you owe me, or anyone, private information about yourself. I know I vent to you a lot, because you're my best friend and I trust you. You don’t owe me your secrets, or your identity, or anything you’re not comfortable sharing. If I’ve ever made you feel that way…”
“No, no, no! It’s not your fault!” Georgia scooched herself closer to Laney’s side, but was careful to leave a small gap between them. “Don’t blame yourself, please. I overthink a lot, and it’s been a difficult time for me lately. Perfect storm, y’ know?”
Laney sighed. “I understand.” She met Georgia’s gaze once more. “Does it feel better, though? To get it off your chest?”
Georgia pondered a response for a minute, and settled upon: “I think so. It’s terrifying, but it’s freeing if that makes sense. Like finally shatterin’ the ugly heirloom bowl from your great-aunt that’s been taking up space on the mantel for years.”
“Hm. An heirloom bowl? Why not just sell the bowl for extra income?”
Georgia elbowed her. “C’mon, I can’t come up with good analogies on the spot!”
“No, I like it!” Laney giggled. “It’s a good analogy. I understand it.”
Georgia pressed her hands against her thighs to hide how much they shook. She did it. She did it. She came out of the closet, and it went well. A brick wall of relief collapsed onto her chest. Suddenly, Georgia wanted to throw herself onto her bed and sleep for a hundred years.
Laney cleared her throat delicately. “While we’re on the topic, I…might be in the same boat.”
It took a moment for the full impact of Laney’s words to hit her.
“What? Really?” Georgia felt her jaw drop, but controlling her facial expressions somehow seemed beyond her ability now.
Laney smiled nervously. “Yeah. I haven’t told anyone else either, but… girls.”
“Oh, I getcha,” Georgia chuckled, wracking her brain for the right words to say. “Girls. Yes. Uh, also, I support you. That’s what I say in this situation, right? You’re valid.”
Laney laughed and playfully punched Georgia’s shoulder. “See? Doesn’t it feel robotic?”
“Yeah, but what else are you supposed to say? Congratulations? My condolences? I’m sorry for your homosexuality?” She paused. “Oops, I guess you never specified. I’m sorry for your…”
“Homosexuality. You were right the first time.” Laney tucked a piece of hair behind her ear with a small smile. “I’m not entirely sure about the specifications just yet, but definitely some flavor of that kind.”
“‘Flavor’. Spoken like a true chef,” Georgia said. “I’m proud of you, though. Thank you for tellin’ me.”
Laney’s smile faltered for a moment.
“To be honest,” she began, “I wasn’t planning on telling anyone, ever.”
Georgia’s brows furrowed with concern. “ ...Ever?”
“Ever.”
“I mean, it’s your decision, but… why?”
Laney sighed and hugged her cardigan around her shoulders. “Do you ever feel like everyone thinks they already know you completely? I guess it comes with the territory, living in a small town like Bluebell. Everyone’s known each other for years, decades even. Everyone’s made little boxes for each other, and whenever I step out of my box, it takes them by complete surprise.” She began picking at her ruby nail polish, leaving tiny craters across the surface of her fingers. “I mean, Goddess, yesterday I told Ash I was learning bass and he nearly lost his mind. It’s like every time I speak out of place, they have to reframe their entire idea of my identity, even with the little stuff. Can you imagine how they would all react if I told them I liked girls?” She placed her head in her hands. “I’m afraid when they reframe their mental image of me in the aftermath, the picture won’t be as pretty as before.”
Before she knew it, Georgia had pulled Laney into a hug. Laney’s face emerged from its hiding place among her ruined fingernails and buried itself in Georgia’s shoulder instead.
A quiet anger rolled in Georgia’s gut, battling with the guilt of not noticing the turmoil broiling just beneath her best friend’s skin. Who made her feel this terrified? Could I have prevented this? …Can I fix this?
“Well, if everyone blames you for breaking out of a stupid box they made for you, then that’s their problem.” Georgia pulled Laney deeper into the hug. Her voice took on a softer tone as she added: “But I gotta say, havin’ known everyone who lives in Bluebell, I think they’d take the news better than you think.”
Laney glanced up at her, a quizzical expression fighting its way onto her face. “Really?”
Georgia grinned. “Between us two, Cam, Eileen, and your Dad, Bluebell rivals Mako’s tree farm in fruit harvest.”
Laney snorted but a hint of curiosity shone in her eyes. “So wait, are Cam and Eileen–”
“Eileen? Definitely, though it might be wishful thinking. She’s a total MILF.”
“Georgia!” Laney sputtered, covering her laughter with a hand over her mouth.
“Am I wrong?”
“Yes! She has no children! Therefore she’s not a MILF, she’s just… an ILF.”
“Yeah, but look at her! She’s a MILF in spirit.” As strange as it felt to talk about her female crushes with Laney, it felt right, like moving into a new home. “Anyways, I don’t know for sure about Cam, but no straight man can pull off a loose tie like he does. There’s fruity magic afoot, I’m telling ya.”
“How nefarious of him.”
“Right? He and the Oracle would get along.”
Laney rolled her eyes. “The Oracle is just an urban legend, Georgia.”
“I’m ignoring that. Moving on. Next, your Dad…” Georgia paused. She was aware she was treading delicate ground. “...it was a guess, but you’re not denying it.”
The grin on Laney’s cheeks slowly faded. “That’s the other thing I should mention. I’m worried about how my coming out might affect him and the restaurant.”
“Like, if people won’t come anymore?” Georgia stifled a snort. “You own the only restaurant for miles. Where else will they buy food to sneak into the cooking festival?”
Laney shook her head. “When I was younger – before my mom died, back when Dad dressed more masculine – I always talked about how much I liked boys. I would go on and on about how I was going to marry Cam someday, and how we’d kiss and have babies, typical little kid stuff. But then my mom passed. Dad started working long hours at the cafe to cover the shifts that used to be Mom’s, and I missed him, and I missed Mom even more, so I would sneak into their bedroom during the day just to lay in the sheets. One day, I found his diary under his pillow.
“Of course, I read it. I was desperate to feel close to him, to anyone really. A lot of the entries were him grieving for Mom or worrying about the restaurant, but tucked between those were these furiously scribbled chicken scratch entries about how he felt like a dirty liar. I guess he’d come to the realization he was gay right before Mom died, and never got the chance to talk it over with her, and then he felt like coming out after the death would be seen as… I don’t know, cowardly? Insensitive? He was worried about what Mom would think, too.”
“Goddess, that’s terrible,” Georgia murmured.
Laney nodded. “It was a lot for both of us to take in. I guess he made peace with the guilt eventually, though he still hasn’t explicitly come out to anyone. Not even me. I think he assumes we get the picture from how he just… is.”
“So, are you afraid you’ll trigger some nasty memories for him if you come out now?” Georgia asked. “Poke the sleeping bear, so to speak?”
“That might be a part of it,” Laney confessed, “but I’m mostly scared people will think he somehow turned me gay with the way he dresses. That being feminine means he’s not a good enough father. That he failed me. I mean, I was boy crazy as a kid, then I come out as a lesbian after he starts wearing makeup? I’ve heard nasty gossip spread over less. I don’t want anyone to make him feel like he needs to hide himself again, or like he’s not the best father I could ever ask for.”
Somewhere below them in the barn, Dakota huffed in her sleep. The rain battered the side of the barn as Georgia grappled for the right response.
“Well, this is just an outsider’s opinion,” Georgia began, “but I don’t think your dad would want you living in secret like he did for so long. It’s amazing how much you both care, but if each of you is taking on suffering for the sake of the other, then what’s the point? In this case, caring for yourself might help both of you.”
“Hmm.” Laney’s bottom lip pouted almost imperceptibly (but Georgia noticed– Georgia always noticed). “It’s a terrifying prospect, though, isn’t it? Being out. Not just the telling part, but living the rest of your life after coming out. You can’t reverse it.”
“I get that. To be honest, I’m terrified too,” Georgia admitted. If they were laying their souls bare, she might as well strip her soul naked and skin it for good measure. “I’m a crack baby from out east who can’t hide her accent to save her life. Me n’ my dad… sure, nobody around here is perfect, but we’re far from an idyllic farm family. It’s been hard enough to fit in here already.”
“...You really feel that way?”
Georgia nodded, staring at the hay far beneath them. “I fought so hard to work myself into the grain here, but the more I find out about myself the more it feels like a losing battle. It’s like takin’ two steps forward and three steps back.”
Georgia felt a warm hand wrap around her own. Her face reddened like a stove burner, and she prayed Laney couldn’t feel her pounding heart through her palm.
“Georgia, listen to me.” Laney held her gaze just as tightly as she gripped Georgia’s hand. “You deserve to be yourself. If the people in this town can’t see how selfless, resourceful, and resilient you are, then they’re fools, each and every one of them. If anything, I think the rest of us should work to be a bit more like you.”
Georgia’s face was rapidly approaching stove burner temperature as well.
“You really think I’m all that?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.
“Yes! You’re also brilliant, and caring and insightful and thoughtful and beautiful and–” She was momentarily cut off by Georgia snorting. “No! Don’t laugh! You’re gorgeous! You look like a doll who came to life and picked up cardio, Georgia.”
Not for the first time in their conversation, Georgia was at a loss for words. She had been about to protest being called thoughtful (she’d managed to mix up Dakota’s treats with her own lunch twice in the past week alone), but hearing Laney call her beautiful… It was nice, to say the least.
Laney trailed off and untangled her hand from Georgia’s. “Sorry if that was too much. I just… I wish you could see yourself like everyone else sees you.” She deliberated for a moment, and added: “How I see you.”
Her eyes widened. Laney giggled.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just– I’ve never seen you so red before.”
Georgia managed to stammer, “Shuddup!”
In a move that could have been retaliation or just a manifestation of her overworked amygdala, Georgia dove forward and kissed Laney on the lips. It was rough and sudden, and nearly caught Georgia off guard as much as it did Laney.
It did scare Laney just about out of her skin, though.
Laney jumped at the contact. Disbalanced by Georgia’s surprise attack, Laney stumbled backwards and let out a small yelp as she rolled off the rafter.
“Laney! Holy shit!” Georgia’s eyes flew open. She leaned over the edge of the rafter and saw Laney sprawled belly-up in a stack of hay.
“Are you okay?” Georgia shouted. “Goddess, I am so sorry.” She rushed down the ladder, but paused when she reached the final rung. Laney had risen from the hay, looking quite like a scarecrow. Straw stuck out of her dislodged bun like a cactus, but to Georgia’s relief, she didn’t seem hurt. In fact, she was… laughing?
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Laney grinned, her face messy and battered. “Me? I’m fantastic .”
In her mind, Georgia was already planning a series of apology letters, reworking her lunch schedules to plan for Laney’s absence, explaining to her father her sudden decision to move back across the country.
Laney stumbled to the ladder, leaned forward on the tips of her toes, and brought their lips together again. This time, Georgia had just enough sense left to step off the ladder before disaster struck. Once her feet hit the ground, she took Laney in her arms and pulled her closer. She felt the warmth of her body through the damp chill of the air. Laney’s fingers gently massaged her hair, careful not to snag Georgia’s curls on her long fingernails. They kissed as the rain fell, as Dakota snored and snuffled, as Taylor Swift leaked from Georgia’s tinny earbuds abandoned on the ground.
There were far worse ways to spend a rainy day.