"Are the two of you brothers? Or friends?"
The young Indonesian man who served us breakfast at our home-stay in Bali knew that we were sharing a room with one bed, and his curiosity had gotten the better of him, despite his halting English. I laughed nervously and said, "Sisters," winking at my wife Danice. ("Sisters" is a term we've used between us as code for "lesbians.") Almost simultaneously, Danice responded with, "Both." There was an awkward pause, and neither of us attempted to disambiguate the situation. He seemed satisfied enough and nodded politely before leaving.
Danice and I had been saving up the points on our credit card for over five years, waiting to earn enough to afford plane tickets to Bali, Indonesia, which had been at the top of Danice's bucket list for most of her adult life. It would also be the first time we'd traveled outside North America since coming out and getting married. This meant that for the first time