Mum blinks. “For what?”
I open my mouth and then shut it again. Should I be thanking them for being supportive, or should I have anticipated their acceptance? Not that I’ve told them everything yet. My stomach isn’t queasy anymore. Good sign.
“It’s been a term of self-discovery. Figuring out I’m not straight and that I’m ace was just the start. I also realised that I’m romantically attracted to someone.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mum says.
Dad gives her a knowing smile. “I bet it’s Emory. It’s Emory, isn’t it? We should have seen it coming from a mile away.”
“You two have always been so close,” Mum agrees, even though I’ve neither confirmed nor denied their suspicions.
I rub the base of my thumb. “I’ve fallen for two people.”
“Two?” Dad asks.
“Yes. Two. We’ve been in a poly relationship for six weeks.” I keep kneading my hand; the firm action keeps me grounded. “It’s a polyfidelity relationship, which means we only want to date each other and no one else. We’re a triad.”
“Six weeks?” Mum asks.
I nod.
“Why is this the first we’re hearing about it?”
That’s what she’s annoyed about?
“We were finding our way in our relationship, and, honestly, I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Besides, telling you I’m asexual and might be gay or bi isn’t something I wanted to do over the phone.”
Mum pats my knee. “No. Of course not, honey. We understand.”
I release a sigh of relief.
“When do we get to meet these partners of yours? Are they men? Women? One of each?” Dad asks.
“Men. So I’m definitely romantically interested in guys. I’m not so sure about women. Maybe? Who knows? I don’t. You already know Em,” I say when I realise I’m babbling.
“Told you so,” Dad says to Mum.
Mum rolls her eyes. “And the other man?”
“A guy we met at uni called Auggie.”
“Auggie? That’s a strange name,” Dad says.
“It’s a nickname. His real name is August, but he doesn’t like it.”
“Then we’ll be sure to call him Auggie. Tell us about him,” Mum says.
“He’s great. You’ll love him. He’s doing the same course as Em. That’s how they met. And he’s here. Well, not here, here. He’s at Em’s. You can meet him whenever you want. Just say the word.”
“Word,” Dad says.
I laugh again. I love my parents.
“Invite them over for dinner this evening. Tell them I won’t take no for an answer,” Mum says.
“Thanks.” What am I thanking them for this time? It’s probably a British thing, like always apologising for everything, whether you’re at fault or not, or always talking about the weather.
“We love you,” Mum says.
