Page 24 of One Little Problem
5. You and me… and also everyone else
But let’s just focus on the you and me part.
Luke
Another week had passed. Things mellowed out now that I was allegedly not dating a guy anymore. My parents didn’t exactly talk to me and pretend like nothing had happened, though that was probably because they didn’t think I’d let them get away it. They were right there. Still, there seemed to be less hostility in the air, less tension in my house, so I was doing homework in the living room when my mom approached me.
Crap, was she going to ask why I was doing homework on a Saturday afternoon? There was a party tonight and I didn’t know if I could lie. Avoidance, yes. Half-truths, yes, but I was out of practice, since to grill me about my plans, my parents would have had to talk to me. I couldn’t go from nothing to an all-out parental barrage of questions.
“Are we going to talk, Luke?” She asked while sitting down across from me.
Technically, that was talking. I sighed but stayed where I was. At least it didn’t seem like she was going to question me about my plans for the night, yet I didn’t relax. There was only one big thing we had to talk about these days and it never seemed to work out.
“Thanks for not putting an ad in the paper,” I told her half sarcastically and half seriously. What would it have said? ATTENTION GOSSIPS, OUR SON IS STRAIGHT AGAIN. And then I’d have to worry about putting a retraction in, how much would that cost?
She considered my words. “Would be an effective way of spreading the news.” Couldn’t tell if she was against it or not. Airing dirty laundry of ours in public? No way. But it was already out, so letting everyone know I was no longer with a boy? Might be worth it.
Mom wore some tan linen pants and a rose-colored shirt with a light sweater to complete the look. I’m not a fashion genius now that I know I’m queer, that’s bullshit, but Dad used to tease Mom about her outfits when the weather started getting warmer and she still wore layers sometimes. It’s summer, why are you putting on a sweater? he’d wonder. And she’d roll her eyes and tell him the temperature didn’t matter, she had to complete the look. Mom always had a sweater nearby even if she wasn’t wearing it. So weird that she was wearing the same clothes, sounding the same, almost acting the same and yet she still seemed like a different person to me.
Or no, she was the same and I was different, or at least she thought I was, and that made her seem different too. Like she was someone else because I was. That didn’t make sense, did it? Or like the person she was before still existed, but I had changed enough that I didn’t get to see the familiar side of her anymore. Or maybe I didn’t want to see her as the same. I didn’t want to get sucked into her Momness, to depend on it, trust her, and then have her take it all away again.
How did I explain when she didn’t want to hear me? My experiences had been what changed me, made me grow up some, but otherwise, I was still the same person. Liking guys hadn’t altered who I was.
“Are we gonna have a whole conversation,” I asked with dread. “Where you say something like you’re happy I finally came to my senses?” Actually, I guess I had come to my senses. We just had different definitions of what that entailed. For me, it was realizing I was bi and accepting it as part of who I am.
The words had been snappish, but I was still almost surprised when she frowned at me. “I’m sure this breakup must be hard on you but watch your tone.” She had been an overbearing parent almost all my life, but it was still weird to have that back.
“You think that’s why I’m angry at you?” I was doing my math homework, so my brain couldn’t switch gears and suddenly be good at words. “It’s that thing I can’t think of right now that’s not transgender or being see through. Transparent?” No, that was see through.
“Transference?” she asked. A small smile appeared on her lips. “Well, now that you mention it.”
“It’s not that.” I feigned concentrating on the homework in front of me.
“He brought out the worst in you.” I had to bite down a quick response, feeling the same fire I always did in my belly whenever someone said something bad about Ryan. I always wanted to defend him but now wasn’t the time for that.
Did they really see it that way, that Ryan was a bad influence on me, or was it just convenient for them to think that? I said they even though Dad wasn’t here. Mom had been the spokesperson for both of them lately. After this “breakup,” there was slightly less hostility emanating from Dad, but we weren’t close to back to normal yet.
“Ryan tries to go to bed early on school nights and he doesn’t even drink,” I said, defending Ryan anyway even though I just told myself not to. Before my mom could ask why I was so quick to stand up for my “ex” boyfriend, I told her, “No, I’m upset with you.” Linda Lorraine Chambers. “It’s not easy knowing my parents can only support me if I’m straight.”
“Luke, that’s not fair,” she protested immediately, like she didn’t even consider what I said. “We didn’t kick you out and we have Lydia here.”
“And you think that’s enough?” Was it? That was, like, mixed signals. Opening our home to Lydia gave me hope that they would come around. But their behavior didn’t. And did they think taking Lydia in fixed everything? Meant they could be weird and standoffish with me?
“She needed a place to stay and maybe we thought having her here would help us make sense of things, try to understand this.”
“Did it help?” My voice didn’t sound hopeful.
“I think so.” Holy shit, really? “Her experience has shown me that it’s different with you, isn’t it? Lydia’s a lesbian and you’re not.” Not a lesbian? She seemed to realize what she said a moment after she said it and corrected with, “A boy lesbian.” She waved a hand. “You know what I mean.” She gave me a serious look, the one she’d given me numerous times before when doling out advice. “There’s no reason you actually need to date a boy when there are girls out there.”
“So, you learned the wrong thing?” I questioned warily.
“People say it’s not a choice, but it is for you.” Wasn’t sure I agreed there, but she kept going. “You can choose girls. There are plenty of other girls out there.”
Other girls? “Ryan isn’t a girl.” His legs looked fantastic in heels though. So not the time for that thought.
“Believe me, we know,” Dad said. You know my boyfriend looks good in heels? I bit my lip so hard I thought I might draw blood to avoid saying that. And hey, Dad was here after all. When had he come in? “Didn’t even know you were there,” I said instead. “You gonna talk to me now that I’m not dating Ryan?”
Dad stood behind Mom, like he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to be here and part of this conversation as he crossed his arms and didn’t respond, which was maybe an answer on its own, but Mom smiled at me gently. “We’re all on the same side here.”
