Lipstick Laurie

Laurie's hand is on my waist. We're sitting on my grandmother's quilt in the den, watching the nature channel. Her french tips are digging into my side, but I don't say anything.

She turns off the TV and looks at me. "Milena, mi amor."

"Laurie, my love." I play along, even though my family speaks Portuguese, not Spanish. She looks serious, so I find something behind her ear to stare at, because Laurie hates when I don't look here in the eye. It's a dusty santa ornament, still on the mantle, even though christmas is long gone.

"Milena, I told my grandmother that I'm gay." She pauses. "Go to prom with me. Please."

"Can we talk about this later?" I see her eyebrows raise in the peripheries of the santa ornament. My voice shakes. "We never get to be alone, I don't want to ruin it." The mood lightens. She kisses me. I can feel it communicate that prom or no prom, we're going to be okay.

"Merda." Our lips seperate like repelling magnets. "Damn it, Milena!" My brother is in the doorway, his girlfriend Rosana two feet behind him. 

I panic. "Jesus, Laurie! What was that for?" The french tips are back in my side. "What are you, a lipstick lesbo?" I laugh too hard, and push her off. Laurie knocks the santa as she runs out of the room.

My brother begins to laugh, too. I pretend I'm not about to cry.

We play Mario Kart.

Rosana wins.