I sigh. “Why?”
Evan’s wobbling lips catch me by surprise. “Because I’m ruining this, like I said. You deserve to be here, celebrating with your family and doing everything you want to do.”
“I’ve had alotof years to do things with my parents. Maybe it’s time for some new traditions.”
“No. You shouldn’t lose them because—” She hiccups, a tear falling down her cheek. “Because I lost mine.”
Idesperatelytry to force down tears because this is not about me, but Evan crying is the saddest sight I’ve ever seen. I’d be a monster not to look at her big, brown eyes welling with tears and not let some of my own out. “They lostyou,Evan. They lost out on knowing you. Their loss.”
“Yeah, but… I…” she’s struggling to catch her breath, so I help her sit up, rubbing small circles on her lower back. Bagel creeps his head around the door, hops onto the bed, and cuddles into her lap. I make a mental note to give him the world’s best cat treat later.
“I lost too.” She finally gets out.
I nod, trying to capture her wandering eyes. “Yes. You did.”
“I’ll… I’ll never get this. I’ll never get to sit in my old bedroom. Or,” she stutters, wiping tears away, “or sing along to the radio with them, or-or meet my nieces.”
My heart sinks. So shedoesknow Michelle has kids. I wondered.
“Fuck!” she yells, startling us both. “I just—I’m somad, Clara.” She grits out. “I’ve spent so much time being mad. Mad at myself for not being able to change who I am. Mad at God for making me this way. Mad at my body for reacting to—” She stops, threading both hands through her hair, resting on her palms.
“I just wanted to be good enough for them. My whole life. That’s all I wanted.”
“I know, baby.”
“And theyhateme.”
I open my mouth to disagree—but how can I? How can I argue that this, the pain she’s felt, the way they denied her, is anythingcloseto love. It isn’t.
“They hate me,” she says, softly, resigned. “And I can’t do anything about it.” Her eyes turn cold, staring at the foot of the bed. “I think my mom knew,” she says flatly. “I think she sensed it for a while. She was always pushing me away. Everything was surface level. Every chance to be alone, she passed on. It was like she was trying to bide time too.”
“I had always promised myself that I’d tell them before I was eighteen. That I wouldn’t wait that long. So, my birthday came, and it sort of… bursted out of me.” She wipes her chin. “They hadn’t gotten to the last line ofHappy Birthdaybefore I said, ‘mom, dad, I’m gay. Please don’t hate me.’” Evan’s eyes find mine, a steadiness in her gaze that translates to rage. “The last words I said to my parents wereplease don’t hate meandplease don’t do this.”
“Ev…” I whisper, reaching for her cheek, rubbing tears away with my thumb. “I’m so sorry.”
“And this fucking… hole… inside me. It’s never going to close. I’llalwaysbe that kid that was thrown out.”
I sigh, shuffling my legs up the mattress until my chin can rest on bent knees. “Maybe not. Maybe we could try and fix it.”
“What? I can’t see them Clara, I—”
“No, not that,” I say firmly, then pause to compose myself.
“Their love, what they gave you before you told them, what they gave on their terms… it’s notreallove. It’s not unconditional. It’s not the type of love that parents ought to be prepared to give.”
She swallows, all the while the crease between her brows deepens. “Okay?”
“They’llalwaysbe the people that gave up on their daughter because of hate. Butyoucan choose to not let that define you. You can choose to fully, unequivocally, unconditionally love yourself…. The way that I do. Maybe our love, combined, is enough to fill that space inside you.” I boop her nose. “And the love of your friends.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “And your students.” I trace her jaw with the back of my fingers. “And my parents.” Bagel meows loudly, making us both laugh. “Yes, and Bagel too…” I sigh, watching her take her first deep breath since we got here. “It could be enough.”
She smiles and it’s bittersweet. A new spring of tears, a smile to catch them.
“Maybe?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
“Worth a try?” I try to catch tears as they fall with kisses. Pecking her a bit like a chicken until she laughs.
“Definitely.” She kisses the wrist of my hand on her cheek. “How do we start?”
