The phone went through to voicemail every time. Cally wished caller ID had never been invented, because maybe then she'd have had a chance to talk to Li Wei.
She settled for composing voicemail after voicemail in her head, discarding each because it was too needy or too aloof or too pathetic. And all the while, a voice in her head counted off what she had done wrong.
***
I met Cally when I was seven. She was barefoot in a white dress, walking through the sprinklers in the park with her head tilted back and her pale hair falling down her shoulders.
I never answer anyone who asks me "So when did you know you were a lesbian?" But I thi