Chapter 24 Christmas Break #2
My parents sat up taller. I’d never talked to them about anyone I was seeing, not because I hid that kind of thing from them but because I’d never been interested enough in anyone to find them worth mentioning.
It seemed Grey was changing my life in more ways than I could keep track of.
If I had hoped that they would take up the conversation and press me further, I was disappointed.
They both seemed perfectly content to wait until I was ready to speak.
I took the biggest breath of my life. “His name is Grey.” The pronoun felt harsh coming out of my lips.
For my parents’ part, they didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow in response.
“His name is Grey?” My dad repeated the statement as a question.
He gave an increasingly familiar vacant look as everything clicked into place in his brain. It was the same expression Josh and Kellan had worn when they’d first figured out I liked Grey.
“He’s a boy?” Mom asked. Her face was a careful kind of blank that made my stomach twist with unease.
A nervous smile tugged at my lips. “Yes.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, sweetheart!” Mom gushed, immediately dispelling the tension in my gut. “And that explains so much.”
Now it was my turn to give a weird look. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing.” She waved her hand. “It’s just that, well, to be honest, you’ve never seemed particularly interested in forming relationships with girls.”
“I’ve been with girls before,” I argued, my face growing warm. Does she want a complete list of everyone I’ve ever slept with? I could provide it and make dinner awkward for everyone.
“We know that, Ethan,” Dad cut in with a chuckle. “But most guys tend to want to be with girls—like for more than a few weeks.”
“Your father and I discussed this possibility when you first entered high school,” Mom added.
I blinked at them. Had it been that obvious to everyone but me?
Does my complete lack of desire to form lasting relationships with girls mean that I’m not into them?
Is that why I made plans like the ones at the beginning of the semester?
Plans where I didn’t have to get to know anyone deeper than just the surface level.
Every one of my longest relationships had been friendships with guys, but I thought most guys were like that. Bros before hoes and all that. Maybe I hadn’t known myself as well as I’d thought. “Oh.” That was all I could think to say.
My mind spiraled through too many emotions for me to form anything resembling a coherent sentence.
For one, I was relieved that they didn’t seem bothered by my revelation.
I was shocked that they’d seen it coming for nearly eight years, annoyed that I was the last to know something so monumental.
Then I couldn’t help but be begrudgingly amused at myself for how big I’d built up this conversation in my head.
A thought occurred to me. “You didn’t think to clue me in?” I demanded. It sure would’ve saved me a lot of wasted time.
Mom gave me an exasperated look. “I’m sure that conversation would’ve gone so well. ‘Hi, son, have you considered kissing boys?’”
“I get your point,” I muttered, ears burning with fresh embarrassment. Knowing me, I would’ve shut down so hard the instant my parents brought up the topic of conversation, I probably wouldn’t have even considered looking at a guy until my mid-thirties.
“It’s fine. We knew you’d figure things out eventually.” Dad gave me one of his strangely paternal and not-at-all-like-him looks. “This boy, he treats you right?”
I mean, he did… but also things were way more complicated than what it felt like he was asking me. “We aren’t dating or anything,” I said, feeling the sudden urge to clarify things. Maybe I’d oversold what Grey and I were. “Just seeing where things could go right now.”
“Well, I’m glad you can acknowledge your feelings for him regardless.” Mom gave a ponderous pause. “And I’m proud of you for telling us. I imagine that’s not an easy thing. I know your father and I haven’t always been role model parents, but we love you.”
I wasn’t sure where it came from, but tears sprang unexpectedly to my eyes.
All of my tension throughout my visit home lifted from my shoulders the moment she validated its existence.
I could have guessed all day what their reactions would have been—I supposed I had to call it “coming out” as much as part of me cringed from the definition—but assumptions and knowing were two very different things, especially when it came to potentially life-shattering revelations.
Dad was emotional too. He grabbed my shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We mean that. We love you.”
The tears threatened to spill over at any second. Why am I getting so emotional?
Because a lot of people don’t get this, I acknowledged. You’re incredibly lucky.
“As if that was ever in question,” Mom said firmly.
She was so matter-of-fact about it that I had to laugh, even as I fought the urge to cry.
“I love you both too,” I said.
Despite my mom alluding to them not always being the best parents, they had managed to handle the conversation perfectly.
They were good like that. They might be messes on a personal level, but when it came to hard things like navigating a divorce and children coming out, they had that part down pat.
Warmth bloomed in my chest. My parents weren’t perfect.
They’d always been a mess. They would likely always be a mess.
But for a moment, we were the picture of a perfect family.
They’d gone out of their way to be proud of me and love me. And they would always be my home.