17

ELISE

She laughed. Loud. Between the two of us, she seemed to know—smell was what we called it—if a guy was closet gay. I wouldn’t know unless someone outed himself already or the person was a crossdresser. I didn’t have what they call a ’radar’ for it. “Yes, he smelled straight.”

I sighed, relieved. “That’s a relief,” I even said. “And it’s not because I wanted him to be, but because his father is going to kill him. And I can’t believe we’re actually talking about this.” I just couldn’t picture Brandon, who exuded all-manliness, a homosexual.

But as I thought more about it, I got more depressed.

“So… we’re not in love with each other anymore?”

She was done and the wet dishes were on the drain dish. She pulled a towel and dried her hands as she turned towards me. “Don’t be sad. It is a very good