Well, ‘tis the season. Anyways, do you have skates?
No, mom. I’m gay. A lesbian. Well, maybe more bisexual because Henry Cavill and a few others but—
Oh!
And I’d like to bring my girlfriend home with me for Christmas, if that’s okay?
Oh, um, I’d say yes but you know how your father is with meeting strangers.
Well, that’s actually the best part…
It went well. She put me on speaker when my dad got back in from cutting firewood and he took it just as well too. Though, he was confused at first.
Honey, it’s not a video call! She can’t see your nodding—be approving out loud!
That’s wonderful, Teens. Nice work.
Work? Daryl, she didn’t get a promotion, our daughter found love.
Why don't you just write down what you want me to say, and I’ll say it Maggie.
They fought for a few minutes while I made tea and tried to pet Bagel (who only hissed once!) Eventually, it was settled. Evan and Bagel were coming home for Christmas with me— and therefore my mother had to hang up our call expeditiously. She had shopping to do.
I, of course, relayed all of this to Evan later that evening. I think it settled her slightly, but I can still see the tension stirring below the surface. It’s confirmed further by the anxious fidgeting she’s been doing in the passenger seat since we set off for my parents’ a few hours ago.
Evan’s doing a brave thing, going home to a place that hasn’t felt like home for a long time, if ever.
I never realised it before but forherthis exile of sorts didn’t start on her eighteenth birthday. She was harbouring that secret for so long, pushing it further down until it lived in her gut and sat like poison in her stomach. She knew the conversation had to happen eventually. She’d long expected what her parents’ response was going to be. But she did it anyway. She gave them a truth they were not owed. Because Evan’s fucking brave.
And while I wish she didn’t have to be anymore, this is another courageous thing she’s decided to do. To see the town, the familiar buildings, streets, and shops, where she felt so defeated.
Part of me has wondered if I shouldn't have asked her to come along, but most of me is glad I did. Not just because I get to spend the holidays with her but because the angry, defensive woman I am wouldloveto see her family start shit. I’m not afraid of them.
From now on, if I have any say in it, Evan will visit her hometown whenever she pleases. We have every right to be there. Everyone deserves to go home again.
_____________________________
My parents greet us on the front porch of the blue, old colonial home I grew up in. They got a lot more snow than we did in the city, but I can still see the familiar trim around the shutters of the main floor windows—the hearts carved out on each bottom corner. My favourite piece of the house is the dark, oak door that doesn’t match. My father claimed it would block out the cold better than anycheapstorm door ever could.
He cut it a little too short. There’s always a draft. My mother doesn’t have the heart to tell him, but he must know.
They’ve got identical winter jackets this year, though I know they’d deny it if I pointed it out.Most clothing is black, Clara, stop teasing.
I honk the horn a few times, rapid and abrupt, as my father does theold man jogdown the front steps and taps on the hood of our rental sedan. I check in on Evan over my shoulder. She’s waving to my mother and unlatching her belt.
I open the door, climb out of the front seat, and hop into my dad’s arms.
“Oh, Teens. Good ta see ya.” His Newfie accent always is stronger when he’s feeling particularly emotional.
“Hey, pops.” I step back as his gloved hand reaches for my cheek.
“Luggage?” he asks.
“Yes, too much as per usual.” I wink.
He blows out a breath, trilling his lips. “And now there’s two of yas.” He shakes his head, walking to the trunk.
I look around for Evan, searching the front and back seat where Bagel is still sitting in his travel crate. But I don’t spot her until I look back at the porch, totally wrapped around my mom.
