“Good,” Mom says, matter-of-factly. “You’re busy with soccer. Classes. Girls are just distractions.”
“Yeah, your mom’s been distracting me for twenty years now and—chingada,” he yells when that gets him a hand to the back of the head.
“I, uh—” I don’t know why it almost comes out. Maybe after a weekend of not having to hide anything and now being home and in a place where I’ve been really lucky to always feel safe, and like, at the end of the day, I could tell these two anything, my heart, for a second, says,Do it. But then my brain catches up, and my voice catches in my throat, making me cough. Mom hands me a bottle of Coke, and now I’ve (unfortunately) got their attention.
As much as a part of me does, right now, still think I could do it. I could tell them.
Mom. Pops. I’m bi. There’s not a girl. There’s a guy.
See, it even rhymes.
But then this discomfort in my stomach starts creeping up. Like I’ve had three too many beers. And all the ways they could react badly—Mom crying, Pops throwing me out, this being the last time I ever speak to them—play over and over in my mind at double speed.
I want to tell them. I want them to know. They loved Vale. Maybe they could love him still, even if they knew I’m falling in love with him.
But if they don’t, and all of this is ruined forever, then what?
I felt so brave the past couple days with him. But having to do this alone? Not knowing if Pops and Mom will still be with me after I say those words? I’m not brave enough right now for this.
“¿Quépasó, Gabi?”
“I … nothing Mom. I just—I love y’all. And thanks for dinner.”
“Claro que sí, mi vida,” she says, pulling my head and kissing the top of it. “Always. And if you really want to learn how to make carne guisada, I’ll show you. Okay? You just have to come overbeforeI’m almost done making it.”
“I’ll remember for next time.”
“You sure that’s it?” Pops asks when Mom steps away to go make her own plate, his firm worker’s hand gripping my shoulder, his voice a gruff whisper.
“Mm-hmm,” I answer, looking down at my food, focusing on grabbing some meat with a tortilla.
“And you know you can tell us anything? Not that we want to hear that you got a girl preg—”
“That’snothappening,” I say quickly and under my breath, my heart rate speeding up just from the idea being out there. “I promise. That— There’s really no girl right now, Pops. I’m not getting any girl— That’s not happening.”
“I’m just saying.Even if it was something like that, you could tell us.”
I look up, meeting his eyes, and can see in them how much he believes himself. Big and brown, a few small wrinkles from the sun before I got him to start wearing sunscreen every day. Eyes that, almost any day out of the year, I would trust entirely.
Now I’m trying to figure out the world’s wildest Would You Rather: straight teen-dad son or bi son with a boyfriend?
“But it’s like I told you way back when, when I first gave you the Talk. A box of condoms costa lotless than a child.”
“Can we please drop this?”
“You promise there’s nothing you want to tell us?”
“I—” Want? Sure. Incredibly. But Ineedto be more confident that what comes next will be good. Or justokay, even. “Yes. There’s nothing to tell.”
“Alright. Eat your food then.”
I wanted to tell my parents tonight. To come out to them. But I couldn’t.
That’s okay, corazón, Vale replies.You don’t have to do everything all at once. When you’re ready.
I miss you.
Nearly half a minute goes by of nothing back, not even an ellipsis. I’m sitting here in my truck, turned off, already parked and back at the apartments, one hand on the wheel, the other holding the phone. An asteroid could land right in the bay and I wouldn’t notice from how hard I’m watching my screen, waiting. Thinking, maybe I should FaceTime him. Maybe he’s about to FaceTime me?
