I don't know what came first, the movie or the party. I only know that it came to an end the night he dropped my friend off first. Backing out of her driveway, he looked at me through the rear view mirror and said, "What's the matter with you. Are you a lesbian or something?" Without hesitation I blurted out an indignant, "No!" and turned my head to look out the far-sided window. Heat rose from my neck to my face. I wanted to hide. I thought, How could he think that about me? Yet the sting of humiliation persisted like an unanswered question gnawing at me from the inside.
It all started with the YAWP Fall Writer's Residency at Fort Warden State Park, Port Townsend, WA. What started? I'm not sure exactly, but something, a change like a fire under my but. I'd been all worked up about work and then I went to the residency, a long weekend gathering of writers, of quiet and solitude or companionship to write and to share our writing or not as we so chose. Something clicked - the schedule. Every night from 7-8pm there was a one hour gathering to write, no sharing, no talking, just a gathering of people writing. We sat on folding chairs, rocking chairs, arm chairs, kitchen chairs, and couches arranged, roughly, in a circle. There was something powerful in that, something that said, "We can do this". It has been 2 weeks since the residency and every evening after work I stop at my neighborhood Starbucks for an hour and re-enact our evening gathering. I started a new job in June. I live 5 minutes away,...
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