Page 103 of Painting Celia

“Hey, you’re out! Feeling better? Andrew’s been in a state.”

“León sent a text,” Celia said. “He told everyone we’re good.”

“Yeah, but it’s better to see in person.”

Kelsey placed herself between the two of them, her expectant air palpable. “I have some news,” she said, “but first, I wanted you two to talk. Trevor, you should tell Celia about your parents.”

A chill struck Celia. Would she have to tell her story again so soon? And in this crowd? Seeing people’s faces when the worst came out was awful enough, but in public?

“Really?” Trevor said. “Celia, you always avoid talking about parents.”

She braced herself. “I’m changing things.”

“It’s not a fun story.” He took off his glasses and polished them absently on his shirt. “There was this boy, you see.”

Celia stood quietly, watching his gaze soften, his face growing a little dreamy.

“Jacob,” he said like a sigh. “He was older than me. Beautiful. Golden curls. We would skip classes and steal an hour or two in an empty house while our parents were at work. Lying in bed just looking at each other, sometimes.”

His blue eyes were so far away.

“In class,” he said, “in public, we never even made eye contact. I thought those hours were a secret just for us, and letting others know would break the spell. I thought it was love.”

Oh no.

“We were caught—of course we were. He denied everything. Said he wasn’t gay, just wasn’t allowed to touch Mormon girls, and succumbed to what was available. He’d sinned for pleasure, but he wasn’t that way.”

Oh, poor Trevor.

“I fought, I proclaimed. I was in love. And the wrath came down on me, not him.”

Celia held her breath.

“I spent two months living with an Elder who tried to berate it out of me.” His face fell. “My parents were punished, I saw them suffer too. But they didn’t stop it. They wanted me cured. For my sake, I’d like to think, but really…they wanted their church back more.”

Trevor didn’t look dreamy now. He looked hurt.

“I caved. I wanted my life back too. I tried to hide it until the prayers fixed me.”

His eyes hardened, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“And when I was eighteen, my dad took me aside and said it was time to move out. I thought I must have slipped up somehow, but he said he’d always known I was gay. He’d done his duty but knew I wouldn’t change, and now it was time to go be gay somewhere else.”

“Oh, Trevor, no.”

“I moved here to LA, met others like me, and made my own way. My parents didn’t want to know me, were never proud, and one day I just let them go too.”

Kelsey shook her head, her face echoing the disgust she’d shown when she heard about Celia’s mom.

“You don’t talk to them? Ever?” Celia asked. “Does that help?”

“Yeah. I protect myself better than they did. I’m sticking with people who lift me up.”

Celia swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I never knew, Trevor.”

“See, saying things out loud can change things,” Kelsey said. “You might find out other people understand.”

Trevor stood to give Celia a hug. “You don’t have to talk about your family, not here. But you can when you want.”

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