THE WEEKS TURNED to months, and as I acclimated to the rhythms of daily life in Highlands and got more comfortable as part of Miss Sara’s household, I decided it was time to come clean to her. “Miss Sara, you know that I am gay.” Miss Sara hardly took her eyes from the TV. One Tuesday, Miss Sara told me to put on some gym shoes and get in the car. Now a veteran of Miss Sara’s erratic driving, my stomach mercifully stayed still as the scenery flew by. The parking lot was deserted as we set off on our hike, one Miss Sara preferred for its ease and numerous scenic vistas. Glancing down the trail, I watched as the back end of a black bear disappeared into the under- brush before I could even tap Miss Sara’s arm to show her. “You like donuts?” Mis Sara asked, fishing the keys from her back pocket. Apparently, my nights were starting to concern Miss Sara. “Honey, you have to be careful with those girls.” “Miss Sara, don’t worry, it’s just harmless going out.” “Those girls are wild and reckless.” “They’re not that bad.” “You know what they call Lynn?” Her voice dropped to an ominous whisper. “The juice dumpster.”
I was confused as to why Miss Sara was whispering; we were in her car, no one else was around. .” I couldn’t believe that prim and proper Miss Sara was telling me this. Teen didn’t particularly like all of them (I’m not sure if she liked anyone), but she always let them in. I picked it up from the hostess stand and headed for the kitchen, assuming Miss Sara or Misty was the recipient. Teen was right about Little John being sweet on someone. Miss Sara was at the register when John walked in and right past her, grinning from ear to ear. As I was prepping my dishwashing station, now a familiar and not wholly unpleasant territory, Miss Sara rushed into the kitchen. “I told Miss Sara not to pay her until after Halloween.” Teen thought Lynn was taking Miss Sara for a ride, but just a few weeks in Highlands had taught me that Miss Sara took in anyone, no matter how wounded or unreliable.
The first order came back, and I lowered a basket of fries into the grease, just as I had watched Lynn do hundreds of times. When she came back to retrieve the food and saw the cockroach, she jumped back about two feet. Turning back to the grill, I began to worry that Teen was mad at me. I was comfortable enough with Miss Sara to stay on by myself. I didn’t have anything to go back to, and I wasn’t ready yet to think about the future. Staff came and went, and Miss Sara slowly started to encourage me to think beyond the hills. I thought back to that day in Richard’s office when I felt like an immigration lawyer. But I didn’t want to move too far from the Highlands, from Miss Sara—what I had come to think of as my home base. I decided to move to Atlanta for its balmy weather and proximity to Miss Sara. A week before my twenty-fourth birthday, Miss Sara drove me down from the mountains and into the city; everything I owned fit neatly in the back seat.