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Queer isn’t a bad word.
That’s something Luke Hemmings realized at 3:59 PM, submerged in purple bathwater, music feintly playing from his iPhone 4. A gold flecked blue-violet, starry bath bomb fizzled beneath his feet, tingling across his skin.
Queer isn’t a bad word.
It was a realization a long time coming.
It started when he was about nine, or maybe ten. His sister, Ashley, never wore makeup. She received it as gifts frequently, whether for Hanukkah or her birthday, but she never wore it. It was more of a temptation for Luke, really. That shiny gold eyeshadow especially. Maybe it was the glitter, for all that glitters surely must be gold. Maybe it was the desire to be noticed. A sixth grader walking through the halls of Middleborough Junior High School with golden sparkles on his light pale skin wouldn’t
not
be noticed. Maybe that’s what he wanted.
And after a while, when Ashley stopped wearing dresses and started wanting to be called
Ashton
, Luke knew that the makeup was up for the taking. Still, he let it linger in Ashton’s closet for years, forgotten about to all but him.
Maybe he should have realized it when that one kid who always sat in the back of his sophomore biology class, Michael, wore a long black dress to the school band recital. Luke grasped his clarinet as Michael was scolded for breaking dress code, and forced into a black button up. Michael told the teacher that day that she didn’t want to be singled out, she only wanted to blend in. But to blend in as who she really was. And maybe Luke understood that. Maybe
that’s
what he wanted.
Or, maybe it was watching Ashton putting makeup on for the first time, age 17, for Luke’s bar mitzvah. Luke could see the hatred in Ashton’s eyes, and the embarrassment in his own. But no. He wouldn’t let that happen. Luke stood with his older brother, finally taking that golden eyeshadow, and smoothing it over his own eyelids in solidarity. But, in reality, it wasn’t done out of solidarity. It was done out of desire.
Maybe he should have realized it when his parents confronted him, asking him if he wanted to be a girl. But he didn’t want to be a girl, that was the thing. He just wanted to wear makeup. But...
Maybe he didn’t want to be a boy, either.
So, at 3:59 PM in the blue-gold of his bathtub, his mind was spinning. The feint music of Trevor Moran played through his speakers. His phone was lit up with a million lights, his screen presenting two words. One of which?
Queer.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. Luke didn’t know who it was, but he knew who it wasn’t. Ashton had moved out at 19, and he was now 21, off in some different part of Australia, too far away. God, he missed his older brother.
“Hello?” Luke called, eyes falling to the door. He was tired. He was so tired. He slid lower in the bathwater, his eyes peeking out over the opaque purple.
The door opened to find Michael, her hair up in a small ponytail. She jumped back when she saw Luke in the bathtub, golden glitter painted gently on his eyelids.
“Jeez, L, put some clothes on,” Michael said, partially closing the door. Her low voice echoed across the bathroom walls. Luke sunk under the water, indignant. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed a little…
off
at school today. You even skipped band.”
Luke rose above the water, resting his head against the back of the tub. “They don’t care,” he muttered. He was willing to bet Michael was the only one who even noticed he wasn’t there.
“I— Luke, I’m coming in,” Michael said, pushing open the bathroom door. She hesitantly walked over to the side of the bathtub, sitting on the ledge. “You know, Cal was asking about where you were.” That name made Luke’s stomach drop, and he wanted to sink further into the water. His legs were already sprawled across the bathtub, too long to properly fit.
“Cal doesn’t count.” Luke didn’t want to talk about them. Just because they had dark brown eyes and a gorgeous smile and wore golden lipstick that made their lips look even more beautiful…
“They were wearing that AFAB cap again. The teacher tried to make them take it off. They said they were expressing themself. Got sent to the principal’s and everything. You would’ve loved it,” Michael said. She heaved a little laugh, looking back over to Luke. “Seriously, though. Are you okay? I haven’t seen you this down in— forever, really.”
Luke didn’t feel the need to answer that. He gave a small, sad half-smile. He hoped that brought the message across well enough. Michael didn’t say anything, running her hands lazily through the purple water. She pulled it out, looking at the golden flakes lining her hands.
“Is this gold?” She asked, almost as if she didn’t care. Nonplussed. Nonchalant.
“No. Pyrite,” Luke muttered. It didn’t matter.
“You know, if you’d told me that it was gold, I’d believe you,” Michael said. She wasn’t looking at Luke, but at the water again. Luke didn’t even think for a second about where he was, just that Michael was like another mother to him. “Just because it isn’t made of the same stuff as gold doesn’t mean it isn’t just as golden.”
“You’re not talking about the gold now, are you?” Luke said. Michael shook her head. She looked to the side, gesturing to Luke’s phone.
Queer.
Genderqueer.
“You don’t have to be a boy just because someone told you to. I mean, if anyone can tell you that it’s me,” Michael said. Luke looked down at the gold flecks, slowly blinking his golden-covered eyelids.
Sure, it might be made up of pyrite.
But that didn’t make it any less gold.