Second Chance Friends by Jennifer Scott Page B

to know it. She wanted Sutton, but what was more, she wanted the ease Sutton showed in her expression. She wanted to be proud of who she was. She wanted to own it.
    But she could never be proud. She could never be at ease.
    Slowly, she trudged through the grass, the sounds of the cast’s curtain call giving way to the delighted screeches of children playing tag, swooshing down slides, being pushed in their swings by their devoted mothers. She stopped at the tip of the trail and watched as one mom hoisted her chubby daughter to catch hold of monkey bars, standing below, a palm’s reach away from her daughter’s body as the girl inched along. She gazed at the smile on the woman’s face. It was so easy. It was so filled with love.
    Joanna plodded along the trail, head down, watching the concrete as it slipped past her shoes, at first in a walk, and then in a jog that felt like escape more than anything.
    Maybe that was all she wanted. Maybe it was just the love she was craving. That was what had been missing for her, and for so long, and maybe she was just unclear. It wasn’t that she was in love with Alyria and Sutton—it was that they were easy and comfortable to tag that love onto. Love was a complicated thing, after all—you couldn’t justgo around attaching yourself to everyone. You had to be comfortable with the person you loved. She’d been confused, was all. She’d been mixed-up. She could have that love, that sticky-faced-toddler-kiss love that she’d seen in the mother’s eyes at the playground. She could have that—she just had to get her act together.
    Immediately, she missed Stephen with a depth that felt endless, and was practically washed away by the guilt of having hidden from him all this time. She missed his jokes, his devotion, even his kiss. It had been so soft, so full of goodness. He would never hurt her, she knew that. She’d wanted to confide in him, had wanted to tell him her biggest secret. What bespoke love more than that? She loved Stephen, and he loved her back. He had admitted it, but even if he hadn’t, he’d shown it. For years.
    She’d just been too blind, too caught up in this gay thing, to see it.
    Her jog turned to a run as she rounded the last curve. She could see her car at the end of the straightaway, and she pushed, kicking back her legs as hard as they would go, shoving out thoughts of Sutton and Alyria and letting memories of Stephen in. So many memories she almost felt light-headed.
    She reached her car, gasping, pacing, feeling tingles rush up her legs and into her lungs. She walked a quick few laps around her car, hands on hips, until her breathing slowed and her throat felt scorched, but in a good way. She felt as if she could conquer anything now. She could be normal. Normal was good.
    She pulled her cell phone out of her hoodie pocket and thumbed it on, scrolling through the contacts list.
    â€œHey,” she said after a few seconds. When she heard Stephen’s voice, she smiled. “I heard you tried to steal my job. I do believe I owe you a drink. Can you come over tonight?”

SEVEN
    I t disgusted her that she had a “jail outfit.” But Karen had been through this so many times with Travis, she actually did have a pair of loose jeans and a crew-neck sweater that she considered her jail ensemble. There were rules about what you could wear into a jail, even as a visitor, and she didn’t want to have to think about what those were every time she went in. She didn’t want to think about her son being the type of person inhabiting a place where women couldn’t be free to just dress however they saw fit.
    Not to mention, the first time she’d worn it there—his first assault, that time on a convenience store clerk who’d suggested Travis buy the box of crackers he’d been eating near the restrooms—she’d been so upset, it was an outfit forever marked with