Teenage Lesbian: Part 3

Sam shuts the door. She grabs the can of shaving cream and her dad's razor, strips down, perches on the lip of the tub, and runs the blade up her leg—slow at first, then faster, shaving away what doesn't feel like her. Days later she lies on her bed with the volume cranked low, thighs open, fingers buried, breathing through clenched teeth as the rush hits. Out of nowhere the VHS sticks. She rips the tape out, crams it inside a pillowcase like evidence, marches it out to the trash, and slams the lid. The following afternoon she spots Teresa outside the school gates. Heart hammering, Sam walks right up and asks if she can come with her. Teresa smiles, they drift off talking records and monster movies, trading music tastes like old friends. By the time they reach Teresa's porch Sam asks if they should catch a film together. Teresa says yes. Sam floats home convinced the world just cracked open for her. Saturday they're sipping lukewarm coffee when Sam blurts it out—she wants Teresa as her girlfriend. Teresa stops stirring, says she's flattered but only likes boys. Sam nods, walks home alone, sits on the front step after dark and lets the tears come quiet and steady. Meg drags her to the community center next. Sam hangs back in the alley until Meg pops the service door and sneaks them inside. The girls already sitting in the circle look up—Sarah's there, Sam knows her from chem. When the group leader starts preaching safe space and identity and turning eighteen into something powerful instead of terrifying, something in Sam's chest loosens. That night the old tape is gone, so her fingers work alone. She pictures bodies from the group sliding over each other: slick skin, open mouths, legs locking, every sigh folding into the next. The fantasy drags her under and spits her back out shaking. Later she stands topless in front of the bathroom mirror, studies the lines of her chest without the duct tape she used to strap flat, and drops the crumpled silver strip into the bin. Lunch the next day, Sarah plops down beside her and JC. The two girls trade glances so hot JC clears his throat and leaves. Sarah leans in, asks if Sam's coming back to the meetings. Sam shrugs. Sarah asks her out—just them. Sam smiles, small, real, feeling it land in her bones. She isn't hiding anymore. She's finally stepping straight into the skin she was born with, and Sarah is the first person she wants to take with her.