Fuck.I should have been more thorough. Why did I think I could get away with this? I added books, convinced it all blended in and that neither my mother nor my sister would go into the office, let alone peruse the books in there.
I remain frozen, caught in my sister’s keen gaze. I forgot how observant she can be.
“So whose house is this, really?” she asks. “Ruby’s?”
There’s no point in denying it. I nod, staring into my wine glass. “Yes.”
“And your house is…?”
“Next door,” I admit, gesturing vaguely toward my actual home.
She laughs, not unkindly. “Why the elaborate charade? Why all the lies?”
I take a long sip of wine, buying time. How much should I reveal? How much does she already suspect?
“Also…are you gay?” she asks directly.
I nearly drop my glass but manage to set it down on the table with trembling fingers. My heart pounds against my ribcage, blood rushing in my ears. I’ve imagined this moment for decades—one of my family members asking the question outright—but in my imagination, I was always prepared. I had calm responses, practical explanations. Now, faced with the reality, all those rehearsed words evaporate.
“Athena?” Demetria prompts gently. “It’s okay. I’ve suspected it for years.”
I stare at her, speechless. “How?”
“You’re my sister.” She laughs softly. “And you’ve literally never dated a man.”
“Mom doesn’t know,” I whisper.
“No, she doesn’t. Though I wonder if she suspects and just doesn’t want to confront it.”
“You won’t tell her, right?” I don’t remember the last time I put on a pleading tone toward anyone, but here I am, bowing down to Demetria.
“Of course I won’t,” she says. “That’s up to you.”
I rub my temples, trying to process what’s happening. After decades of careful evasion, of half-truths and redirections, this is both terrifying and oddly liberating.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” I ask.
Demetria shrugs, tucking her legs under her on the lounger. “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. And then as the years passed, it just became this unspoken thing between us. I didn’t want to force it out of you.”
“But you just did.”
“And it was about time, don’t you think?” she replies dryly.
I chuckle and shake my head as I don’t even know what to say to that.
“So this house swap…” Demetria continues. “Why? Is it because there’s something in your house you didn’t want Mom to see?”
I hesitate. “My house has certain…adaptations that would be difficult to explain,” I say carefully.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Like what? A secret sex dungeon?”
I choke on my wine, coughing violently and Demetria laughs, reaching over to pat my back.
“Oh my god, I was joking! Do you actually have a sex dungeon?” Her eyes widen.
“Something like that,” I say, thinking on my feet. I can’t tell her the truth, so I’ll go with the sex dungeon.
I watch my sister's face cycle through shock, disbelief,and finally morbid curiosity. Of all the ways I imagined coming out to my family, discussing fictitious sex dungeons by the pool wasn't on the list.
