I rub my forehead with the heel of my hand. My stomach is fluttering in a bad way, but I can’t put off coming out any longer. If I do, I might lose my nerve completely. “Can we talk?”
“Is everything okay?” Mum asks.
I sit in the armchair and wait for them to sit on the sofa adjacent to me. I lean forward onto my thighs and tap my splayed fingertips together. “Everything’s fine. It’s been an interesting term, that’s all.”
“Interesting how?” Dad asks, voice wary.
“You’ve experimented with drugs, haven’t you?” Mum asks.
I stare at her, open-mouthed. It takes me a minute to regain enough composure to speak. “What? No. Why would you think that?”
She smiles sheepishly and shrugs. “You look so serious, so I thought you were going to tell us something bad.”
“It’s nothing bad.”
“Oh, thank god.”
Dad grins. “He’s got a girlfriend.”
“Uh, no.”
His expression falters.
“But that is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He frowns. Mum puts her hand on Dad’s knee. It’s like facing the Spanish Inquisition. Dad is a huge Monty Python fan. I never got his fascination with their silly films and crazy comedy sketches, many of which are in bad taste by today’s standards. Having them stare at me is not making this any easier. It’s not that I’m ashamed of who I am or who I love, more that I know I’m going to take them by surprise. They understand who I am in their heads, and based on what Dad said, part of that vision is that I’m straight.
“I’m not straight,” I say to dispel that myth. My gut coils as I wait for them to respond.
“You’re gay?” Dad asks.
I splay my hands, palms up, and stare at them. “Maybe.”
“Bi?” Dad’s voice is so casual that it makes my heart smile.
“Possibly? I’m not sure, because I’m also ace.”
“Well, yes, you are amazing, but it’s big-headed to say so.”
Is he joking? Maybe he doesn’t know what ace means. I didn’t. I rub the back of my neck. “I didn’t mean it that way. Ace is short for asexual.”
My parents stare at me blankly.
After a moment, Mum says, “There’s so much more terminology now. When we were your age, you were either straight or gay.”
“Although that’s not the word that was used,” Dad says.
“No. You’re going to have to explain it to us, sweetheart.”
“It means I don’t experience sexual attraction to people.”
“Oh, so no boyfriend?” Dad sounds glum.
“I’m not aromantic. I still experience romantic attraction.”
He grins. “Boyfriends—or girlfriends—are back on the table.”
I laugh. What other reaction is there? “Thanks.”
