Page 45 of Nerdy Dirty Valentine

“Mom. This is James.”

“Hello,” James said.

“Nice to meet you.” Her voice was thin, polite.

My mother knew I was gay, but I’d never introduced her to anybody. We hadn’t talked about it. Mostly because Mom worked long hours and we avoided each other. We were more strangers than family.

An awkward silence descended.

We all stood there, staring at each other.

“Come on in. Don’t stand in the doorway.” George ushered us into the den.

The television was left on. ESPN. The home was immaculate and decorated well, but too sterile for my taste. It made me appreciate my new apartment and James’ warm touch with the knickknacks and bright colors.

“So… um, George. Are you from Phoenix?” James asked.

“Oh, yes. My family has lived here for generations. I love it, especially the weather.”

George and James exchanged thoughts on living in Arizona.

“We’re delighted you came,” George addressed me.

I managed a nod and stayed silent.

He turned to James. “You into sports?”

“Um, not so much,” James admitted.

“Oh.” George paused. “How about you, Phin?”

I shrugged. “Not really.”

An uncertain expression flashed across his face. I had the feeling he wasn’t good with small talk and wasn’t sure what to ask next. He sat down in his recliner, having exhausted the topics of weather and sports.

“There’s other things to like besides sports,” I said.

“We like it,” Mom said. “We have season’s tickets for the Suns.”

“Maybe the boys would want to come to a game, Samantha?” George got a flicker of renewed interest.

“Yes, well, maybe.” Mom gave a tiny shrug. “I doubt Phin would be interested.”

I wasn’t even aware of curling my fists, muscled bunched, hating how little she gave, until James’ hand wrapped around mine. How cold she was.

“The Suns,” James said. “I could go to one of their games. That’s basketball, right?”

“Yes,” George laughed. “It is.”

James lightly tapped my shoulder. I smiled at him, trying to relax. But maybe it was wrong to bring him inside? Looking into James’ concerned eyes, I felt some shame for him to see this.

“Would you like a drink—soda, I mean,” Mom offered, wringing her hands together.

At least she remembered soda, not booze. Maybe that was something. But I couldn’t stomach swallowing anything with mynerves so taut. She looked as stressed as I felt. I didn’t want to prolong this any longer than necessary. I wanted all this to be over.

“Mom, I know we’ve been distant the last few years and not in touch much, but I came here hoping we could change that. I regret not coming to the wedding when you sent the invitation. I should have done more than send a present.” I glanced at George, who gave me a tight smile.

“You think?” Mom’s sarcasm was one of the few tones she used on me.

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