Annie on My Mind

and then before either of us knew what was happening, our arms were around each other and Annie’s soft and gentle mouth was kissing mine.

Oh, Liza, I’m sorry!” she said when I was through. “I should have warned you more—I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“Those security guards are jerks,” she said, still sounding upset. “They probably thought you were selling.” She gave an odd little half laugh

rainy Sunday last November when I met Annie Kenyon.

“Don’t let ignorance win,” said Ms. Stevenson. “Let love.”

in this world, and gay people certainly come in for their share of them—but so do lots of other people, and besides, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the truth of loving, of two people finding each other. That’s what’s important, and don’t you forget it.”

“you are gay, Liza, and something did happen in that house, and it happened because you love Annie in ways you wouldn’t if you weren’t gay. Liza, Liza Winthrop, you are gay.”

You’re talking about how I feel about another human being and how she feels about me, not about some kind of disease you have to save us from.

love is good as long as it’s honest and unselfish

They’re older, maybe they had to, but—oh, Liza, I don’t want to hide the—the best part of my life, of myself.”

that even though we are two people, we can be almost like one, and at the same time delight in each other’s uniqueness.

it made me want to give Annie all of myself, forever.

Annie had said that she’d be singing more for me than for anyone else that night, and that there was one song in particular she wanted me to hear.

“Buon Natale,” she whispered, “amore mio.”

“Merry Christmas, my love,” I answered.

I know you said on the beach that you think you love me, and I’ve been trying to hold on to that, but I’m still scared that if I told you everything about how I feel, you might not be ready for it.

Because you’re better than anything or anyone for me, too, Annie, better than—oh, I don’t know better than what—better than everything—but that’s not what I want to be saying—you—you’re—Annie, I think I love you.”

, I—like you so much. I told you, you make me feel—real, more real than I’ve ever thought I could feel, more alive, you—you’re better than a hundred Californias, but it’s not only that, it’s …”

“No, this is wrong; you know it’s wrong and bad and sinful,” and there was another that said, “Nothing has ever felt so right and natural and true and good

She put her hand on mine, barely touching it. “It’s all right with me,” she whispered, “if it is with you.”

Without thinking, I put my arm across her shoulders to warm her, and then before either of us knew what was happening, our arms were around each other and Annie’s soft and gentle mouth was kissing mine.

“You promise, good! Annie, she’s laugh’ more this week, since she met you.”