Juliet Takes a Breath Read Online Free PDF Page B

must have called Titi Penny and oh my God, now the whole family was going to know about me, and what if Portland became the only safe place in the world?
    Titi Wepa swerved across three lanes to catch the exit for JFK. Her tires screeched hard as she pulled into the Southwest departing flights drop-off zone. She didn’t unlock the doors. Around us taxi cabs and shuttle vans loaded and unloaded hordes of baggage-laden souls. Everyone traveling to or coming from the ends of the earth in search of family, friends, self-discovery, and a shared desire to be anywhere but where the hell they were.
    Titi Wepa stared hard at me, and said, “ You were born in the middle of the night on a Monday, September 6, 1982. I’ll never forget that day as long as I’m living and breathing. My brother came out of the delivery room—first time in my life I’d ever seen him cry—and told us you were a baby girl.” Titi wiped her eyes. “I’ve loved you from that moment and I always will. I don’t care if you’re gay or if you shave your head or…”
    â€œOr if you become a falcon,” offered Lil’ Melvin, from the backseat.
    Titi Wepa laughed. “Or if you become a motherfucking falcon. I’m your Titi and nothing will ever change my love for you. Now get the fuck out of my car.” Her black mascara ran down her cheeks.
    I reached over and pulled her into a tight hug, “I love you too, Titi. I love you times infinity.” She kissed my cheek, and left a dark red lipstick stain. I took a deep breath, inhaling her Cool Water perfume and the new car smell that emanated from the blue, tree-shaped air freshener. I wanted to bottle all of her up and take her with me. I got out of the Thunderbird and grabbed my purple and black Adidas duffel bag from the trunk.
    Lil’ Melvin popped out behind me, chocolate crusted to the corners of his mouth. My brother, my baby, a grey-eyed, boy version of me, I took him all in at the curb. We faced each other and he pressed a brown paper bag into my chest.
    â€œDon’t open this until you need to, sister,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
    â€œConfidential” was written on the bag in black marker. “Ok, weirdo,” I said, grabbing him by his side chub, “Take care of everyone and mostly yourself. Love you.” I ushered him into Titi’s Thunderbird and shut the door behind him. Waving, I watched them drive off into the throng of vehicles. Once I lost them amidst all of the other red taillights, I stuffed Lil’ Melvin’s brown paper bag into my backpack. I stepped through the doors, trying not to cry, feeling both wrecked and excited.
    Every night that week, I had dreamed about Portland. Extended, epic, technicolor dreams where white lesbians appeared like fairies to welcome me as I landed in the middle of a lush forest area. They draped wreaths of Oregon grapes and flowers around my head, my hips, and all over my body. The fairies gathered in a circle around me and swayed in rhythm to the trees and the winds. I’d stood there, staring, and tried to use my phone to call Ava so she could swoop down and bring her brown revolution to save me. The white angels sang in harmony about couscous cures for all ailments and aligning our periods with the ancient cycles of the moon. Wide-eyed, I’d stared at them and lit a cigarette, looking around to see if I could catch a taxi or something. My phone never worked, and I couldn’t hail a cab in the woods of my dreams. I’d wake up and peek over at the map of the United States on my wall, just to make sure Portland was a real place. I mean, if no one I knew had ever been there or even heard of it, then I had a right to wonder whether Portland, Oregon, existed or not, right?
    Coming out had taken over my brain space these last few days, but before, when I had a little extra breathing room, all I thought about was how Portland