Page 8 of The Dating Coach
"I have some money saved from my summer job," Mia offered. "It's not much, but—"
"Keep it," I said firmly. "You might need it."
She swallowed hard. “I’m scared. What if they’re right? What if there’s something wrong with me?”
"Hey." I took her face in my hands, making her meet my eyes. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect exactly as you are. Love is not a sin, no matter what they say."
"You sound so sure," she whispered.
I thought about my own carefully hidden truth, the part of myself I'd buried so deep even I sometimes forgot it existed. The girl in my freshman year I'd kissed at a party and then avoided for the rest of the semester. The way I noticed women as much as men, a fact I'd never admitted out loud to anyone.
"I am sure," I said instead. "Because I know you. You're kind and brilliant and funny. You volunteer at the animal shelter and cry at romance movies and make the best chocolate chip cookies in existence. Being gay doesn't change any of that."
Mia hugged me again, and I felt her tears soak through my shirt. "I love you, Gem."
"Love you too, butterfly."
Karen, who had been suspiciously quiet, cleared her throat. "Okay, game plan. Mia, you're taking my room tonight – it's bigger and has the comfier bed. I'll crash with Gemma. Tomorrow we'll figure out longer-term arrangements."
"I can't kick you out of your room—"
"You're not kicking, I'm volunteering," Karen said firmly. "Besides, Gemma sleep-talks about molecular structures when she's stressed. It'll be educational."
That startled a small laugh out of Mia, the first genuine one I'd heard from her all evening.
We spent the next hour getting her settled, Karen distracting her with ridiculous stories from her high school ("I announced that the cafeteria was serving free pizza in the teacher's lounge during the morning announcements. Three hundred kids showed up. The principal nearly had a stroke.") while I tried to process the magnitude of what we were facing.
Later, after Mia had finally fallen asleep in Karen's bed, exhausted from emotional trauma, Karen and I sat at our kitchen table with mugs of wine she'd produced from her "emergency stash."
"This is big, Gem," she said quietly. "Like, potentially life-ruining big if your parents go nuclear."
"I know." I stared into my wine, seeing my future fracture into uncertain pieces. "But what else can I do? She's my sister."
"I'm not saying you shouldn't help her. I'm saying we need to be smart about it." Karen pulled out her phone. "I'm texting my almost-lawyer cousin. And maybe we should document everything – save any texts or voicemails from your parents. Build a case for why Mia shouldn't be forced into conversion therapy."
"You'd do that?" I asked, touched by her immediate support.
"I've been looking for an excuse to fight the patriarchy and religious extremism. This is like Christmas came early." She paused. "Too soon for jokes?"
"Never," I said, managing a smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Probably have a cleaner kitchen and fewer scorch marks on the ceiling," she said. "But definitely less fun."
My phone buzzed – reminder about my tutoring session with Liam. I groaned, suddenly remembering I had to face Liam Delacroix and his stupidly attractive face while my life imploded around me.
"What?" Karen asked.
"I have a tutoring session this Friday. For organic chemistry. With Liam Delacroix."
Karen's eyes went wide. "Hockey hottie Liam? The one with the shoulders that could make angels weep?"
"That's not how I'd describe him," I lied.
"If you say so." She grinned despite everything. "Well, at least you'll have something pretty to look at while learning about molecular bonds."
"This is serious, Karen. I need to pass this makeup exam, and now with Mia here—"
"You'll figure it out," she said firmly. "You always do. And hey, maybe Hockey Hottie will surprise you. I heard he's actually smart under all those muscles."
