The rainbow crosswalks were sun-faded. Cameron was vaguely surprised, remembering the headline on Instagram, the vibrant photos of fresh paint. How long ago was that? What is time? The signal at Oak Lawn and Cedar Springs finally clicked to Walk, and Cameron took a long exhale, approaching the Legacy of Love Monument that towered into the glow of the evening sky. It was hotter than she expected for November, and a single bead of sweat slicked down her sternum.
She tried to remember the last time she was here: Stevie’s bachelorette party at Sue’s. Stevie’s asshole friends thought it would be funny to make her wear one of those sparkly straight-girl sashes. Cameron remembered pulling Stevie onto the patio, handing her a cigarette, and tying the stupid sash into a double Windsor. Cameron’s last clear memory of the night was straightening the collar of Stevie’s preppy sky-blue polo and kissing her cheek, asking, “Is that better, handsome?” before Stevie slipped back into the pulsing lights of the dance floor.
That seemed like a lifetime ago, another world. Cameron couldn’t imagine stepping on a dance floor now. She remembered the thrill of being packed shoulder to shoulder with so many other queer folks, but now the thought made her throat tight. The pandemic had spawned nightmares of crowded indoor places with no escape. She had told herself it would feel good to be back in the neighborhood, and, besides, where else would she want to meet up with Devin after all this time?