“Mom, I can explain,” I say, relying on movie and TV clichés, hoping that the age-old statement will help me out somehow. Do the explaining for me.
She releases my arm like she’s shaking away a prisoner. She leans in close, a deep ferocity about her, and I am honestly a little scared. Of what, I don’t know. Of seeing my own mother out of control, of knowing I made her this way.
“Are you crazy?” she angrily whispers. “You’re kissing a girl at a banquet with our whole family present? With photo proof? You know that everyone will talk now—nottome, butaboutme. Has this been your secret the whole time? Is this why you’ve been so sneaky and so happy? That girl?”
I mean. Yes.Yes. She nailed it, what can I say? I don’t want to deny it; I want to share with her that yes, this is who I am and what I’ve been doing. I’ve been wanting the whole world to know, too, but—it will damage my mom’s social life, her standing as a respectable widow. Her whole gossip network will be turned against her. Any phone calls she gets will be to dig out information. Or she’ll get women pretending to sympathize who are secretly congratulating themselves on having straight kids.
My throat feels hollow. I say, “I—It’s been—It’s not what itseems like,” I say, solidifying my identity as a coward who wants to do the right thing but never does. I just need more time. I want to be with Erebuni, I do, but this was the wrong time to yank back the curtain.
Since I’ve been going to Explore Armenia events, but especially tonight, it feels like Mom’s come back to life. She’s among her people again; she’s one of them. My kissing a woman threatens to drag her away.
If I stall right now, pretend it was a misunderstanding, I can lay the foundation to well and truly prep my mom, and ultimately my family, for my relationship when the time is right. That’s all I’m doing, part of me thinks. I’m being rational about this, not a gutless craven who doesn’t deserve her relationship with Erebuni.
“It seems like you have no regard for your family and are doing rash things to embarrass us.”
God, I hate that. At least this I can rail against. Like, I have years of pent-up rage to unleash on that particular statement. “Is that all you care about? How we look to everyone else? You care more about them than about your own daughter?”
She gets more in my face and almost has a satisfaction about her. “You admit, then, that you have been with this woman?”
“No, we’ve been hanging out, but I didn’t... I didn’t mean for anything to happen.”
The fissures and cracks that sprang up all over me as soon as I saw Tantig Sona with that photo of us feel like they’re breaking off. Fragments of myself are crashing to the floor, the consequence of my lies.
But my mom’s not buying it. She runs a hand through her hair, sending flyaways over her scalp. “I can’t believe it. I cannot. You’ve been ignoring all the choice men I served to you on aplatter, and you go for this woman instead. I had no idea you had this in you. I am—This is beyond me. I am going to cry.” And her voice cracks at the end as she legitimately starts to tear up.
I instantly go into soothe mode because as much as my mom is in the wrong, she locks up and reserves those tears for special occasions, like when the weight of Dad’s death hits her. Now, seeing her cry, I know it’s real pain, and all I can think is that I want to make things better. I touch her shoulder, and she lets me. “Mom, listen, I’m sorry. It was a mistake. Hopefully it doesn’t get out of hand.”
She backs up in another burst of wrath, eyes still wet. “Oh, you know how Sona is. She is spreading to everyone what you did.”
I feel this calm, rational ruthlessness take over. I want to protect my mom, first and foremost, from the venom of Tantig Sona. Erebuni isn’t here, so I can feed my mom any message I want. Right now, family damage control. Later, the truth. “We’ll deny it. We’ll just deny it to everyone. It was supposed to be a cheek kiss, and we bumped mouths instead. That’s all.”
To save myself from ruin, I’ve stitched myself back together with poison thread. I am a fake type of whole again, held together while it seeps into my skin. But not yet.
My mom looks up, considering. “Perhaps she kissed you. You did not kiss her.” She loosens her shoulders for the first time during this conversation. She’s seeing the solution, and it makes me feel wretched inside, even though Erebuni won’t ever know this is how I made it through behind her back. The balm for my transgression is that I’m pointing my finger at Erebuni and crying, “Witch, sorceress, temptress!” and everyone is going to buy it. A price she will never know about.
I nod. “Yes.”
I can hear her exhale, and I can also hear the Armenian music again, the party chatter, sounds that my brain muted as it focused every synapse on surviving this conversation. And instead of feeling relieved, I. Feel. Sick. I survived, yes, but the cost feels high.
She eyes me suspiciously, because again, my mom is no dummy, and we both know that I am head over heels for Erebuni, but the fact that I so quickly gave her this explanation instead of battling her on it shows that I am on her side, and she sees that, too. But I’m not feeling that ease I was hoping for.
“I will go tell them before Sona’s mouth gets out of control. You stay here for a few more minutes, then come back like nothing is wrong.”
“Right, yes,” I say.
I take a few steps out of the hallway to watch my mom leave, and standing right there, arms folded, with a look of betrayed disgust, one I’ve never seen on her face before, is Erebuni. Oh no. Please, please, God, let her not have heard any of that conversation. It was too loud out here, and my mom and I talked quietly. Right?Right?
My mom walks right by her, stepping slightly away, as if to avoid toxic fumes, and disappears into the banquet hall to do damage control.
We’re alone, among strangers mostly, so I reach over to hold her hand, and she lets me. It is limp and lifeless. “I’m sorry, so sorry about all that,” I say, hoping to keep it vague.
Her voice is layered with pain. “Did I hear correctly? Did you agree to tell your whole family that I came on to you out of nowhere?”
The poison’s come to collect.
“N-No. I didn’t.” Someone behind us shouts, “Ara, aboush, hosyegur!” and it feels like the mood is getting rowdier. I cannot be having this conversation with party guests milling around. I go back into the argument hallway, as it will forever be known to me, and motion for Erebuni to join. Thank God, she does.
I take a deep breath hoping to convey to her how sorry I am, how I’m about to explain something. “I told her we’ve been getting to know each other and it’s complicated—”
