Page 49 of Sicken of the Calm
“Perfect! What’s the name of yourblog?” she asks. “Espera, espera – Elisa! Get me a – gracias,” My mom says asshe’s handed a pen and paper. Ezra tells her the name of the blog and I make amental note of it as well.
“Que bien! See, this is what theworld needs. To learn from our mistakes! Carlos would love this stuff. You needto come over next summer, hm? I’ll cook you a real meal – no more sandwiches!”My mom says. Ezra nods genially, but he glances at me as if he assumes I’mabout to interject.
“Yeah. He lives in the town, so…”
“Hay, claro! Sorted. When are youcoming over for Christmas, Joaquin?”
“I think my last exam is the…15thof December. Have to be back for the 8th.”
“Okay. Are you coming back forChristmas, Ezra?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Okay, perfect. But you aren’tsleeping in the same room,” she says, pointing a finger at us. I immediatelytense, Ezra blushing to the roots of his hair.
“Mamá-”
“I’m kidding! I guess I can’t usethat rule now that you’re in college…not that I’ve ever had to, with you.”
“Oh my God,” I groan.
“No seas dramatico. Ok – Joaquin,cariño, call me later this week.”
“Ok,” I say, defeated. I don’teven know if my mom actually has the wrong idea. I don’t think she wouldunderstand how a relationship can have all the elements of a traditionallyromantic relationship with none of the commitment.
“Chaito, mi amor.Te quiero.Bye, Ezra. Take care of my boy,” she smiles.
“Of course,” he says seriously.My mom beams.
“I love you too,” I say.
“Chao! Chao, chao, chao,” Shewaves. We wave back as the call is cut with a plopping sound. We sit there fora moment, processing the conversation.
“Wow…um, your mom seems reallyamazing,” Ezra says finally, turning to look at me.
“Yeah, she is. Sorry for theambush, though.”
“No! It was nice. But…she seemedto think…” He trails off, waving a hand between us. My stomach clenches, hopinghe isn’t too upset about the fact that I didn’t protest.
“Yeah, sorry, I just…”
“No, it’s, I mean it’s whatever.You’re out to your family though, yeah?”
“Yeah. Senior year,” I say andEzra nods, humming.
“They took it well, then?” hesays, and it’s my turn to nod.
“Yeah. I mean, as you can see, mymom, and dad too, they’re very liberal. And Iva had come out the year before,so…yeah. I think she knew, to be honest.”
“Why’d you think that?”
“I don’t know…there was just,like, zero surprise. Like, I didn’t expect them to take it badly, but it’snormally at least a surprise, right? It was more like they seemed happy I hadfinally told them, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t ask. What about – Imean, you came out to the school when you were fifteen, so…”
“Yeah, I came out to them thatnight. What a great day that was…” he says bitterly. I shift closer to him sothat our knees are touching. That same feeling that surged inside me last timehe mentioned his parents bubbles inside; the urge to wrap him up, to shelterhim from things that have already marked him.
“They didn’t take it well?” Iask, trying to sound matter-of-fact instead of cautious or pitying.
“I mean, they didn’t take itbadly.They didn’t, like, beat me up and kick me out,” he says, and his words onlymake my stomach sink further. There’s nothing more ominous than someonepre-emptively excusing someone’s hurtful behaviour by claiming they at leastdidn’t go to the most extreme action possible. “They just…like, they didn’treally believe me, I guess? They were all like, you’re confused, it’s a phase,blah, blah, blah. I was like, oh, I can be sure of my sexuality only if I’mstraight? What if being straight is a phase? And what does it even matter ifbeing bi – I mean, I wasn’t about to explain to them what pansexuality is,Jesus Christ – why does it matter if being biwasa phase? I was tellingthem that, in that moment, I was bi – who cares about five years down the line?What, they think they’llencourageit into being permanent? God. Anyway,they didn’t particularly react well to that. Mom got angry…Dad got all silent,just…” He sighs, shaking his head. “We didn’t really talk about it after that,until I got my first boyfriend. Jesus, I was such a dickhead, bringing himover, putting him through that…See, the thing is, they didn’t even ban me fromseeing him. It wasn’t like they’re particularly religious, they’re just…weirdabout it. Like, sometimes I think if they had been outright angry and punishingabout it after that initial shock, I could have had something to rail against,but that…absence. That, like, silence, thelooks, like I wassome…lesser…I don’t know. The avoidance made it worse, somehow, like what I wasdoing was so dirty and wrong they couldn’t even talk about it, and I was thedifficult, confrontational one if I brought it up because they weren’tdoinganything,” he says, running his hands through his hair in frustration, his kneebumping up and down. “I just…sometimes I kind of wish they had rejected mefully, you know? Like, just come out and said what I know they feel. Butthis…it’s like there’s no closure. And if I were someone else, if I weren’t sofucking…I could just ignore it, and we’d be fine. But I can’t. I just, Ican’t.” He looks to the side, expression pinched and withdrawn.
