Lipstick Lesbian: Whispering angel

by H. Rachelle Graham in Lipstick Lesbian | 0 comments

“I like you the way you are. It doesn’t matter what orientation you are.” These are the last words my mom might ever speak to me.

“No you don’t! And you’re by far not the only one in this family who wants me to be different,” I said, slamming the door behind me. These are the last words I spoke, words I don’t even know are true.

I opened my eyes, trying to shake the memory so I could focus. A severe case of vertigo coming on made that impossible.  The professor’s lips moved, but I couldn’t make out a single thing she was saying.  And the room spun faster than a tea cup at Disneyland.

I undid my hairpiece when my phone started beeping. A few members of the class turned to look at me, but luckily the professor hadn’t noticed. I stared at my hand, wondering if it was still attached to my body.  I touched it to make sure there was still feeling. I felt so numb, I reached zombie-status. I wanted Angelina Jolie to come in and give me a kiss on the lips, see if I’d feel it.

I checked the message, hoping it was from my sisters or dad, but it was only a text from the phone company.

I slammed the phone shut. No more of this stuffy room. I collected my book and folder and headed to the professor. I reported to her about what was going on and she looked flabbergasted that I’d even bothered to come to class.

I took the short shuttle bus ride to the University of Utah Hospital. I opened the ER door, and immediately heard familiar voices. Faces of my immediate family and their spouses, as well as my mom’s sisters filled the tiny room. This was the only time in eight years it wasn’t me in that hospital bed.

Then, I noticed my sisters looked worried and tearful.

“How is she? Where’s Dad?” I asked her without taking a breath.  I leaned my head on Angie’s, who took care of me during the time I was sick.

“Breath,” she said, patting my head. “We don’t want the two of you in the hospital right now.”

We both laughed nervously, slightly breaking the tense energy in the room. But, it came back full force.

I decided to say a short prayer, knowing it couldn’t hurt. Shortly after, a soft light beamed from the window, cascading down as if an angel received my message and sent it to God.

If the stroke damaged her mind or her body, she might never walk or talk again.  I need my mom.  We all need her.

I no longer felt powerless.  I felt warmth surrounding me, as if the angel embraced me before she left.  I may not be able to save my mother the way she did through my illness, but maybe the prayer of a child might save her.  I’d thrown my religion out the door because I felt it didn’t accept me for me.  But this light I felt, and my niece made me realize for the first time in a long time that maybe  a higher power wasn’t dead. There was still hope.

A few hours later, my dad came out, but this time he had a half-smile on his face.  The doctor followed him closely.

“She suffered a mild stroke, but there appears to be no damage,” she said, not bothering to hide her white smile as all of us sighed in relief.  “She’s allowed to have more than one visitor now. But, don’t overwhelm her. She’s clearly tired and didn’t get much sleep last night.”

A few days later, my sister’s kids came to my parent’s house to check up on my mom, who now was moving around as her go-getter self. She thinks watching a half-hour sitcom is a waste of precious time.

Bailey hugged her. “You’re the same. Thank heaven. I like you the way you are.”

A lightbulb inside my body lit for the first time in years.  I felt like my niece’s words spilled over with innocent and purity that they had come straight from a higher power. The anger in my life, mostly directed inward and also to church members who had shunned me, released like black smoke, giving way for a higher truth.

“So do I,” Mom said. “I love you Bailey, just the way you are.”

“Me too,” I yelled.

“Honey, I love you too,” Bailey turned to me.

In that moment, I knew that even in my darkest days I was never alone. The higher powers never gave up on me because I love differently, and my family continues to reach out and care for me, even though I may be different from them.  Most of all my family just wants me to be happy and I want the same for them.