Chapter 1

A Hole in the Wall of the Heart

Tina Harper reached for her girlfriend’s hand in the hospital bed. A friend would hold another friend’s hand, right? At a serious time like this? She knew Bonnie wasn’t out to the family that surrounded them, but this was a normal gesture that wouldn’t cross any lines. Bonnie squeezed Tina’s fingers, her eyes full of unspoken emotions.

“Sweetie, don’t you think it’s time for your friendto take a break?” Bonnie’s mother said, giving Tina a pointed, unfriendly glance and letting the word friendtwist around her tongue. “This is a moment for family,” she continued. “Don’t you think?”

Tina stiffened, snatching her hand away from Bonnie without meaning to. She couldn’t help waiting a beat for Bonnie to defend her, for Bonnie to tell her mother that they loved each other and had been dating since the first week of college. Her girlfriend stayed silent, though. Tina took a deep breath and forced herself to smile at Bonnie’s mother, father, aunt, and younger brothers. She muttered a goodbye, turned on one heel, and stalked out of the room.

She knew Bonnie was suffering. Having the college health clinic suddenly discover that Bonnie had been born with a hole in the wall of her heart—and could have died from it anytime up until now—had to be terrifying in itself. But Bonnie had also never been able to be herself around her family, and it had been two years since she’d talked to any of them. Having them appear now seemed like a mixed bag. Tina ached to be there for Bonnie, to listen to her as she worked through these things. She didn’t want to cause any drama of her own at a time like this.

On the other hand, she couldn’t stop the tears that had begun to flow down the sides of her face. The last thing she wanted was to “take a break.” She wanted to be by Bonnie’s side at every possible moment, not be reminded that she wasn’t technically Bonnie’s family, not be treated as a weirdly close friend. Tina loved Bonnie Deluca. She was the person who actually saw her and spent time with her. She had driven Bonnie to the hospital from the clinic for the initial tests. She had filled a flash drive with Bonnie’s favorite shows so she wouldn’t feel lonely in the quiet when visiting hours were over. She had emailed Bonnie’s professors and friends to let them know what was going on (the college nurse, for better or for worse, had taken care of getting in touch with Bonnie’s family).

She didn’t want to burden Bonnie with her own feelings right now, but it hurt to get kicked out of the hospital room. It hurt especially to think of how differently Bonnie’s family might be reacting to her if she was a boyfriend, not a girlfriend. It hurt to have to wonder exactly what about herself bothered them so much. Were they upset because they could see that Tina and Bonnie were more than friends, even though Bonnie hadn’t told them so directly? Or did they dislike Tina just for being queer and having the haircut to match? Or maybe the spice of racism flavored their homophobia, and what really bothered them was that Tina had inherited her father’s Afro-Caribbean hair texture, even though also being part white and Asian meant her skin was barely brown at all.

Or maybe she was seeing social justice stuff when it wasn’t really there and they would have been just as unwelcoming to a blue-eyed white boyfriend they hadn’t met before.

That familiar mental loop—trying to decide if she was really experiencing prejudice, then worrying about being oversensitive, then hurting again from what really seemed like prejudice—made her feel awful, and it made it even harder to deal with the reality of what was happening to Bonnie.

It made Tina want to scream to think about it all. It made her feel bad for being selfish. It reminded her that right now she was wandering the hallways of a hospital while her girlfriend was alone with a heart defect and a family she didn’t trust.

Tina headed toward the cafeteria. Not that she was hungry exactly. She just needed something to do with herself, particularly with her hands. She’d already picked her fingernails to the quick while leaning awkwardly against one wall of the hospital room, trying to make nice with Bonnie’s family. Also, she needed something to do with her mouth. The words she hadn’t said burned her tongue, and anytime she thought of Bonnie’s mother she ground her teeth so hard her jaw hurt.

She reached the entrance to the cafeteria and abruptly stopped walking.

Why did hospital cafeterias always smell so weird? Tina remembered that smell—of boiled-over soup, mixed with fried chicken, mixed with something sharper and more medical—from the hospital she’d sat in at thirteen while her grandfather was dying. Six years had passed since then, but that smell took her right back. It made her feel small and lost and helpless, even though she was legally an adult now, and Bonnie’s condition was treatable, not terminal like her grandpa’s had been.