“Have you been playing with voodoo dolls, young man?”
“Voodoo?” Jaden is holding a bottle of nail polish in his hand, and he dips the brush in and out of the magenta bottle before carefullyapplying it to his index fingernail. “Why would I be into voodoo? I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in any of that shit.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell that to Ezra.”
Jaden snorts a lap. “The clairvoyant camboy? I wouldn’t dream of it.” He paints another two nails before finally asking, “Him and Johnny. Are they an item?”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” he answers, even though it’s pretty clear that’s a goddamn lie. There’s an untold story swirling in his eyes, and after a year of no contact on his part—unintentional, I’m sure—I want to know every word of it. I want him to let me in so I can know the man he’s become, because the man beside me isn’t the man who left for California. He may not be who he once was, but he’s still my flesh and blood. He still holds the biggest part of my heart, even if I let him down by becoming a deadbeat dad when I didn’t follow them to California. I let my boy down.
Jaden brushes pink polish on his pinkie nail. Holding his hand in front of him, he smiles proudly before twisting his wrist so I can see the color. It’s beautiful on him. Pink and brown have always been one of my favorite color combinations, and it suits my son perfectly.
“Ezra is kind of cute. In a douchey sort of way, I guess, and Uncle Johnny has always made my pants dance.”
Faith stares up at me, bewildered, mouthing, “Pants dance?”
“I’d fuck them. Both.”
“Jesus, Jaden,” Faith sighs.
My heart thunders in my chest and this new, bitter feeling courses through me. My son is hot for my boyfriend. Both my boyfriends.
“They’re both taken,” I blurt out, because I want him to know my boys are off the table as romantic partners. I could just tell him I’mpart of Ezra and Johnny's dynamic too, but try as I might, I can’t seem to get the words out. “Jay?”
He’s got his hand in front of him, softly blowing on his fingernails to dry them. “Yeah?”
“Earlier, what you said about being, well, you know.”
“I’ve said many things since arriving. You’ll need to narrow it down a bit.”
“About being gay. You’re gay?”
“Correct,” he says with a nod. “Are we simply stating facts at random?” God, I’ve missed this side of him. While his slightly feminine mannerisms are new to me, that scowl and sass are tried and true. I’ve seen the combo more times than I can count, they’re just usually carried with a deeper voice and squarer shoulders. Not light and dainty like they are right now. “You’ve been staring at me like I have two heads ever since I got here.”
“It’s just … You’re bisexual. That’s what you said when you came out. I know some people use the term gay interchangeably with bisexual—”
He cuts me off. “No, I’m completely gay. Zero attraction to women.”
I'm trying to make sense of it, because I don’t understand how he can turn from bisexual to gay. As a newly out-and-proud bisexual, it rubs me the wrong way, because it feels a lot like the bi erasure stuff I read about on Reddit when I was struggling with my own sexuality. “There ain’t nothing wrong with be bisexual, Jay. You don’t have to pick a lane when you’ve got the whole highway ahead of you.” I narrow my eyes. “Did the homosexuals at UCLA bully you into this? Did they try to tell you you’re bi now, gay later? Were they bi-erasing you back in California?”
He looks at his mother, then at me. “Bi-erasing me?”
“Telling you to pick a lane. Saying bisexuality isn’t real. It’s real, son. It’s real, and it’s fuckin’ beautiful.”
His cheeks darken, and he quickly looks away. “Dad, I just—”
“We talked about this on the way here,” Faith interrupts our son, squeezing his shoulder as she sits on the arm of the sofa. “He’s not going to be angry. About this, at least. God knows he’s going to flip his lid when we tell him your other news, but he won’t be angry about this.” Faith shoots me a warning glare. I’m curious about the other news she just mentioned, but judging by the fierce, protective look in her eyes, now ain’t time to cross that bridge.
“She’s right,” I say, because she is. “Whatever you’ve got to say, it’s okay, Jay.”
His eyes meet mine, and for a second, some of the sass and sparkle fade, showing me brief glimpses of the boy I raised. “I lied to you.”
“About being bisexual?”
He nods, chewing on his cheek as silence settles around us. It’s uncomfortable, and I don’t like it in the slightest, but my boy is working through some shit right now, and the least I can do is suffer in an awkwardly quiet room while he works up the courage to speak his truth, whatever that may be.
“I didn’t want to let you down,” he whispers, unwilling to look me in the eye. “I’m your only kid, and I was scared that if you knew I only like guys, it would make you super sad, because I’m your shot at having grandchildren. I didn’t want to disappoint you. When I first told you I was bi, I thought it might make the transition easier, but I see now that’s not the case. You realized you were bi too, and then I couldn’t take it back. That’s why—” Jaden chomps down on his bottom lip like he’s silencing himself mid-sentence. He looks scared.
