Page 96 of Don't Let Me Go
The other four hundred and ninety-nine texts are from Duy, Tala, and Audrey, who for the past umpteen hours have been demanding to know why Jackson and I bailed on the concert and if we’re okay.
I definitely owe them an explanation, but as I start to reply, it occurs to me that Jackson and I haven’t really had the chance to discuss what he feels comfortable telling people about our relationship and his sexuality. Obviously, he doesn’t have a problem with his aunt knowingabout us. And he certainly didn’t mind making out with me in a park full of strangers. Still, I don’t feel right outing him to my friends without discussing it with him first.
It takes me a surprisingly long time to craft a response that’s both honest and vague but not so vague that my friends will get suspicious and think I’m hiding something. Basically, I tell them that after my encounter with Alex and Jackson’s reunion with Micaela, neither of us felt up for a concert, so we decided to crash at his place.
I wish I could tell them the full story. But that’s something I’ll have to do with Jackson. When he’s ready.
“Sorry that took so long,” Jackson mumbles when he wanders back into the room.
“That’s okay,” I say as I finish up my text. “I’m just letting the gang know we’re still alive. How was your call?”
“Not great.”
The tightness in Jackson’s voice causes me to look up from my phone, and I see that his eyes are red. Has he been crying?
“What happened?” I ask, reaching for his hand as he slumps down beside me on the sofa. It’s like someone’s thrown a switch. All the light has gone out of his face.
“My parents asked me how I’d be celebrating my birthday. I didn’t want to lie so I told them I’d be hanging out with you. They asked if you were a new friend, and I told them...” Jackson shakes his head and sighs. “I told them you were my boyfriend.”
My jaw drops.
I’m not sure which of those two bombshells to process first, that Jackson used the B-word to describe me or that he just came out to his parents. Both should be cause for celebration. Instead, he looks devastated.
“You told your parents about us?” I ask, not quite believing my ears.
“Yeah. That’s the part of the conversation that didn’t go so well.”
“What did they say?”
“Short version?” Jackson snorts. “My mother said I was being selfish, ridiculous, and immature. And my father asked why I was so hell-bent on ruining my life.”
“Fuck.I’m sorry,” I say, pulling him into a hug.
Jackson shrugs in my arms but I can tell how upset he is. “It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have sprung it on them like that. I thought if I slipped it into the conversation like it wasn’t a big deal, they wouldn’t freak out, you know? But I should’ve known better. They’re not like Aunt Rachel or Micaela. I should’ve known they’d react like this. I just...”
“Just what?”
“I just thought after six months of seeing me be utterly miserable, they might want to know that I’m finally in a good place. I thought they’d be happy for me. But no. They couldn’t even give me that. Not even on my fucking birthday.”
Jackson buries his face in my shoulder, and my heart breaks for him. I wish I could take his hurt away, but I can’t. All I can do is be here for him and give him all the love and acceptance that his parents are incapable of.
“Maybe they just need time,” I say, trying to reassure him. “When Tala first started dating Audrey, it took the Youssefs months to accept that she was queer. But they did.”
Jackson doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. I know all too well what he’s feeling.
My mother didn’t cut me out of her life because I was gay, but she did cut me out. And that hurt. It hurt for a really long time. If I’m honest, some days it still hurts. But I got through it. And so will Jackson.
And who knows? Maybe once they’ve had a chance to cool down, his parents will get their shit together and apologize. But even if they don’t, Jackson won’t be alone. He’ll have me. He’ll always have me.
And whether or not we’ve had past lives, I’m just thankful that I can be here for him in this life.
Chapter 38
Jackson
After I told my father I wanted to quit football, change schools, and move in with Aunt Rachel, he didn’t talk to me for a month. I wonder how long the silent treatment will last this time now that I’ve told him about Riley.
So far, it’s been three days. No calls. No texts. Nothing.
