“What?”I asked persuasively, to coax the real reason for this attitude from her. Butall she said was, “I’m just tired, sweetie. Okay?”
Inodded, still not convinced. “You want me to leave and let you sleep?”
Shelifted her head, beginning to nod, before she stopped herself. I watched the columnof her throat shift as she swallowed and saw the worried crumple of herforehead create a V between her brows. Then, she shook her head and replied,“No, I don’t want you to go.”
“Okay.”I faced the TV and sat with her in silence. There was about two weeks’ worth oflaundry waiting for me at home, as well as months of dusting and vacuuming inmy room, but that could all wait a little longer. At least until I knew whathad gotten her so upset.
Ittook forty minutes of TV and commercials before she finally said, “So, I wentonline last night after you fell asleep.”
“Oh,yeah?”
Shenodded. “I went on Instagram to look at pictures, and that would’ve been fine,except then, I got toreadin’ some comments.” Herlower lip was pulled once again between her teeth and her fingers worried theforgotten bowl between her hands.
Andthat was when I knew. Molly’s resolve to ignore the comments directed at us andour relationship had ended the first day we were home. It was as though thelack of distraction had made her remember how much it hurt to be a target, andat the sight of her distress, I was reminded yet again of how much I hatedbeing silent.
“Whathappened to ignoring it?” I gently pried.
Mollyshrugged and curled her legs underneath her bottom, burrowing further into thecouch. Almost as if she was trying to hide away between the cushions. “I’mstillignoring it,” she insisted.“It’s not like I’ve said anything or replied to anyone. But I also can’t justpretend it doesn’t exist. All these people can talk about is how sick you areand how gross it is and how fat I am, and I just cannot understand how it isthat people can go on with their lives being sofreakin’mean. Like, do they think we don’thave feelings or something?”
“Idunno, Molls.” I shook my head, wishing I had ananswer. “It’s like those assholes in high school. They—”
“No,Chad,” she interjected harshly. “It’s not the same. Yes, those kids in schoolwere assholes, and sure, maybe they still are. But you know what? They at leasthad the courage to say that shit to my face. This is …” Her lips pinched andher head shook. “This is cowardly, and sofreakin’cruel. There’s no excuse for it.”
“So,what’re yousayin’?”
“Idunno,” was her response. “I guess I just have somethinkin’ to do.”
***
“Hey,baby.” My mother sat on the living room couch with Dad. “How’s itgoin’?”
“Okay,”I grumbled, still feeling the guilt of leaving Molly at her apartment. She’dtold me it was fine, that Morgan was there, and that she could use a littlegirl time. But it didn’t make me feel any better about leaving. Not when shewas still so upset. “What’rey’allup to?”
“Well,actually,” Dad turned to face me, “we’ve beenwaitin’for you.”
Theirsomber expressions instantly sent me back to when they’d caught me making outwith my high school girlfriend. I wondered if thatyou’re grounded, young manlook would ever stop freaking me out,because even at thirty, I was certain the terror alone could give me a heartattack.
“Uh,okay …” I approached them slowly and sat in the recliner. Then, like an idiot,I asked, “Um, am I in trouble forsomethin’?‘Causey’allaregivin’ me the creeps.”
Dadwas immediately taken aback. “What? Of course not.”
“Oh,”I replied shortly. “Well,y’allcouldlookless like you’regonnayell at me, you know.”
Mamalaughed lightly and brushed my concern away with a flutter of her hand. “Don’tbe ridiculous. We just wanted to talk to you aboutsomethin’we’ve beenthinkin’ about.” I nodded and encouragedher to continue. “First of all, we wanted to apologize for how we’ve beenactin’.”
Mybrow pinched. “Huh? What do you mean?”
Shelooked to Dad and grimaced before turning back to me. “We haven’t been the mostsupportive, about your diagnosis, and that’s not right.”
Thiswas the last thing I’d been expecting, and I swallowed as my head shook. “Y’alldon’t have to—”
“Yes,we do,” Dad cut in. “We’ve had some time to reflect, and we haven’t been veryfair to you. We just want you to know, we accept this, and we’regonnaget through it together.”
“Welove you, baby,” Mama added, reaching out to mold her palm against my knee.
Theunexpected ambush of affection squeezed around my throat and stung my eyes. “I,um …” I cleared my throat and blinked my eyes. “I love you, too.”
Anemotional silence ascended, and the air was sucked from the room. It was nearlytoo much for me to handle, and I coughed through my discomfort before saying,“Um, well, I have laundry to do, and—”
