Page 105 of Sombra
“I’m—” He closes his eyes, opens them, and his face is full of terror and pain. Gone is the adrenaline-fueled American who showed up a half hour ago. “Kim. I can’t marry you.”
Wait.What?
He continues. “With you gone, it gaveme time to figure out some things.”
“Me too,” I whisper, about to go into how much it’s not going to work between us. But then I look at him and it clicks. It all clicks. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but having him here, after the pause of distance, makes it all make sense. “It’s not me you want to marry.”
“No,” he whispers back.
“It’s Randy.”
He nods andtears form in the corner of his eyes. “You’re the first and only person I’ve told. I had to come here to sort out my thoughts.” And his face crumples.
“Honey.” I crawl over to him and wrap my arms around him to hold his pain.
“With you gone, I had … space. And I realized how much I’d been hiding. I’d suppressed everything for so long. Tried to talk myself into believing I was wrong.And I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t live a lie.” A tear runs down his face. “What are my parents going to say?”
“They’ll love you.”
“They’ll think I’m wrong. All my life, I’ve been taught my feelings are wrong.” He starts sobbing.
Rocking him in my arms, I murmur, “You’re absolutely allowed your feelings. Absolutely.”
“I’m so sorry, Kim. I’m so sorry. I was soscared of coming out to my parents that I’d pushed all of this aside. I knew I’ve had feelings for him … like this, but they aren’t allowed. I’m not allowed. I figured if I married you, I would get all of it out of my system. We’d be set up. It would all go away. And we could all be together. I like you. I love you.”
“But this is who you are.” And now I’m crying, too. “Oh, Shane. You’remore scared of coming out to your parents than marrying me.”
He nods, and his tears drip down onto my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I absolutely love you, Kim, but as a friend. Not as a lover.”
“Same, Shane. Same.”
“You like that Spanish guy?”
I nod. “A lot.”
“He’s cute.”
Shoving Shane, I almost laugh. “He’s mine. Keep away.”
He gives me a rueful laugh,but then it turns back to desperation. “What am I going to do?”
I know exactly what he has to do. Like me dying my hair. Like me owning that I wasn’t in love with Shane. Like me figuring out that I like to cook, and I don’t like to play hockey or speak Mandarin or get an MBA. He needs to own who he is and not let anyone talk him out of it.
“For starters.” I hold his hand. “Shane.”
“Yeah,” he sniffles.
“Tell me who you are.”
His eyes have that deer-in-the-headlights look.
“Say the fucking word, Shane.”
He shakes his head.
“When you say it, it’s the first step toward accepting it.”
He shakes his head again.
