Happy Bisexual Visibility Day!
Much love to you from me and mine, but especially:
From Ioana, my bisexual Romanian immigrant heroine, whose language and love blend together in her heart and make her all the more beautiful for her difference:
She reached the last page of her book, sighed, and closed it with a reverence Ioana recognized; she, too, had held manuscripts as though they carried the life of the author in the glue of their binding, had folded her hands around Sebastian’s face the very same way. Turning to slide her book into the opening of the heavy bag that occupied the aisle seat, the woman raised her head and surveyed the passengers one by one, starting at the back. Ioana did not look away in time, too distracted by the curve of her neck to notice when she had moved to face her.
Ioana met her bright green eyes and smelled lemon trees. The woman smiled and nodded gently in acknowledgment, as one does when confronted with the gaze of a stranger in America. Ioana did not know what to do, so she kept her eyes on the woman, afraid to let her gaze slip away and lose her forever.
From Mike, my biromantic ace hero, who took a long time to find people to call his family, but once he did, learned to love himself as much as they all loved him:
Nick was totally gay for Gatsby, you know, James says, watching Mike’s face. The hallway was nearly empty, students having rushed out to seize the earliest moments of the weekend. James drops his bag at Mike’s feet, leans back against the row of deep blue lockers, their numbers scratched out, doors dented, and grins.
What? Mike sputters, No, he wasn’t. He was with Jordan. How do you know?
I pay attention, dude. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey, James says, pulling the words straight off the page from memory. That’s about Gatsby’s smile, by the way, he says. Sounds like love to me.
Like you’d know what love is, Mike says. James just stares at him, face carefully blank.
But what about Jordan? Mike asks, pulling the right strap of his backpack until it tightens all the way, throwing him off-balance, then yanking the clasp so it sits even on his shoulders again.
Um, you do know that bisexuality exists, right? James slings his backpack over his shoulder and looks Mike in the eye.
Yeah, of course, Mike says. He’s never lied to James before. He’s never had to. Why now?
From Lithium (A.K.A Stephanie Charles), a literal Bicon in her universe and kick-ass superhero, who takes no shit and celebrates every moment she can:
“Finally decided to bring someone by, eh, Willy Billy?”
Will blushes a furious pink. “Not someone. A friend.”
Stephanie smirks and leans an elbow on the back of Ryan’s booth. “That’s how the best times start, my man. Friendship makes the world go round.”
“No, really,” Ryan says from underneath her arm. “He’s, uh. Not my type.”
“Oh. I see.” Stephanie whips around and leans against Will’s booth, leering down at Ryan with interest. “How you doin’?”
“I meant blonde,” he blurts, sending Will into a flustered giggle-fit.
Stephanie grins, wicked and keen, then leans over to ruffle Ryan’s hair. “Aw, shucks, I like you. No offense, but you’re not my type, either.”
“Nerdy,” she says, and slaps two menus down on the table. “I like my boys and girls beefy and dumb as a sack of bricks. Real jock folk.” A quick pinch to Will’s arm earns her a swat from Conover’s finest. “Now, he really does frequent the gym, but between you and me” - she leans in close and utters in an exaggerated stage whisper - “he’s a bottle blonde.”
“Like you need any more of those, As Told By Ginger.” And she flits off to tend the bar.
Ryan slides his menu to his side of the table and smiles. “What interesting friends you have.”
“All the better to embarrass myself with, apparently.”
And from me, your ace writer friend: I see you, you’re amazing, keep on keepin’ on, and I love you.
May you be as happy as I am that you’re here. 💜
