Chapter Thirty-Five
I lie. I tell my parents Kristen and I decided to have our traditional Halloween movie night at her house after the party. I keep the details vague but assure them that we had a great time and—by association—I had a great birthday.
The truth? Kristen chugged water and locked herself in one of the bedrooms in Valerie’s house to sober up before heading home without me. I slept in the back of my car.
I wake up dazed, my face sticky from tears and puffy from crying.
CLARITY: U awake?
HANNAH: Yes
HANNAH: Was about to text you.
I look up in time to see Hannah’s trunk open.
She slept in her car after she parked it in front of mine once everyone else had left.
She slips out, still wearing her Jack Sparrow costume, just without the hat, locs, and mustache.
I quickly peel my mustache off as she walks around to the back of my car, and I pop the trunk.
“Thanks for the blanket,” I say, my voice hoarse. The way it cracks makes both of us laugh.
“Anytime,” she says, immediately slipping into a yawn so big, she has to stretch with it. “May I?”
I scoot over and she sits next to me, pulling some of the blanket over her lap. When she leans over to rest her head on my shoulder, I welcome it, too tired to let my thoughts slip into paranoia.
But just the hint of fear reignites my memory of last night.
“He’s going to tell Vincent and Vincent is going to tell his friends and… it’s going to get back to my parents,” I say, the words coming out on a sigh.
“You could tell your parents first, beat him to it,” Hannah offers, though I can’t tell if her voice is weak because she’s tired or if it’s because she’s unconvinced.
Honestly, I’m holding on to the hope that Kristen is right.
That Maurice won’t tell anyone. I’m not even sure if he told Vincent last night.
Kristen hasn’t texted with any updates. But that could easily be because she’s upset with me, the person who asked her to lie to her boyfriend and complicate her previously perfectly happy, uncomplicated relationship.
All for the sake of mine.
Hannah sits up and wraps her arm around my back, pulling me into her side.
I let her, despite the fraction of me that still hesitates.
We’re in front of Valerie’s house. I know the chances of her looking out her window, knowing whose cars are parked in front of her house and that Hannah and I are inside mine is virtually impossible. But what if?
What if she sees and tells someone?
What if Maurice tells everyone?
I press my palms to my eyes and take a deep breath, letting everything rush out of me. We’re not going to solve anything in the trunk of my car. And I know I’m not going to make any sort of progress before I brush my teeth and shower.
Coming out to my parents is the only way for me to regain control and end my anxiety.
I spend the rest of the day torturing myself.
Because of my birthday and the party, I got permission ahead of time to miss Sunshine Saints.
I’m relieved that my parents are at church when I get home because it means I have the house for a bit.
No need to worry about someone creeping up behind me in silent socks and glancing over my shoulder while I chat with Hannah and scour Facebook and Instagram for any sign of my downfall.
I check Maurice’s pages, keeping my visits brief as though he’ll be able to sense me looking if I linger too long. And if he can sense me looking, then I’ll be on his mind, and if he starts thinking about me, maybe that will get him worked up, and if he hasn’t outed me already, he’ll out me then.
I check my pages for notifications of any comments or tags, and I read the comments on the committee posts too. Just to be thorough.
I repeat the sweep every few hours.
By the afternoon, I can’t take it. I know Kristen is upset after last night, but I have to know if Vincent has said anything to her. If Maurice said something to him.
“Hello?” Her voice is stiff when she answers the phone.
“Hey, are you busy?” I pull my knees to my chest and push off from my desk, turning my chair around so that I can face away from my computer and focus.
“Um, no. Not right now.”
“Have you heard from Vincent at all?”
“Clarity—” She starts to sigh, like she’s exhausted and tired. Which would make sense. She has every right to be over this, me staying stuck in my secret and dragging everyone down with me. But I just need her to hold on a little longer.
“Did Maurice tell him? Did he mention anything to you?” I bite the tip of my thumb, the weight of every second that begins to tick by as she doesn’t immediately say, No, Vincent doesn’t seem to know, hanging over me like an anvil waiting to drop.
I can sense the burden, her working up the courage to break the news that everything I feared is set in motion.
“Kris, it’s okay. You can tell me.”
“Clarity, I can’t do this with you anymore.”
I hold my breath, but she doesn’t continue.
“Can’t do what?”
“Maurice didn’t tell him. Okay? Are you happy?” she snaps.
“Krist—”
“No, Clarity. Vincent is mad at me. He doesn’t want to talk to me until I’m ready to be honest with him.
You want to know what Maurice told him? That you are a liar and this whole thing was a waste of time.
And he refused to tell Vincent more and now Vincent is asking me what you lied about, what you did to Maurice, and he doesn’t believe me when I tell him ‘I don’t know’ because we both know that’s a lie.
“I understand you don’t want anyone to know, and I guess you can still stay comfy in the closet while the rest of us eat shit out here for your sake because even Maurice, after he found out the truth, is willing to keep your secret.
“So, I’m stuck. Because I’ll be the asshole if I tell Vincent, and I’ll be an even bigger asshole if Vincent tells anyone. So, no, I’m not busy right now. Because my boyfriend doesn’t want to talk to me and I don’t want to talk to you and I guess I don’t really have anyone else.”
“I’m sorry, Kris. I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. Apologizing isn’t enough. It doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t fix anything.
She sighs again. “I just need to get my life together, and I don’t think you can help me right now…”
She trails off, leaving an opening. I want to say I’ll come out, or at least offer to tell Vincent, or tell her she can tell Vincent. Say I trust her judgment and if she thinks he won’t tell anyone, then I believe her.
But I don’t. My restraint coils tight in my chest. While Hannah is right, that beating Maurice to the punch and just coming out would end my anxiety and—now—the strain in Kristen’s relationship, I’m not ready. I wasn’t planning on coming out to them the day after my birthday.
“I just need some space. I’ll text you.”
She hangs up before I can say bye. The silence presses in around me, numbing me to my core.