“Tempting. Very tempting. But I don’t fancy myself a small talker.” Royal hums for a moment. I hear more clicking, this time like a mouse tapping. “Maybe something less structured but conversation deep?”
“Okay, but I warn you, the diamond package is usually reserved for longtime friends and trusted allies.” I rack my brain.Anythingdeep to talk about. You can do it. Just come up with a subject.“It includes offerings like: advanced would you rather, childhood trauma, and dreams, goals, and aspirations.”
“Hmmm, advanced would you rather? I didn’t realize that came with tiers of difficulty.” Royal stops typing. “Let’s try it.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I go over to the stack of textbooks on my desk, open the folder for my psych class, and pull out the list we had been given. I pick the third one down on the page. “Would you rather never be able to celebrate your birthday again or be forced to have a big party each year?”
“I thought you said these were hard. I’d rather have a big party each year.” Royal answers quickly like that was an easy decision for him. “The Cavanaghs are really close as a community. I couldn’t imagine not having a celebration that didn’t involve everybody.”
“Really?” I shake my head, not like he can see me. “I could never. Like, sure, I have all these cousins, but after you turn sixteen, there are no more birthday parties for you. And honestly, I didn’t like the attention. I was eager to turn seventeen and not have the —”
“The?” Royal prompts.
“Well, this falls outside the ‘would you rather’ game territory.” I warn him.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just like hearing your voice.” There’s more typing on his side of the phone.
It feels easier to tell him knowing he’s a little distracted. “And not have the pressure of being a well-behaved birthday girl and the fake happiness. It’s so much work trying to be perfect for appearances. Even from a young age, it was always ‘Leticia, no man will want a woman who doesn’t’ — insert a laundry list of expectations.”
“That’s gross.” Royal’s words are harsh and unexpected. “Grooming, I’ll never understand. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve that. I’m so proud of you for recognizing that.”
“It’s life.” My face heats, and I try to dismiss the conversation.
He’s proud of me?I can’t remember the last time someone said that to me.
“Doesn’t make it right.” Royal pauses for a beat, and the clack of a bunch of keystrokes sounds over the line. “So does your family go all out for Christmas and Easter?”
“Ugh, yes. We do Christmas in Italy every year, and I can’t standit. I don’t travel well. I get serious jet lag, and my stomach gets super upset. Plus, it’s with all the cousins, and for the first couple days it’s like ‘Do I even speak Italian?’ because it’s been almost a year since I last spoke it. Whether I’m going or not this year is still up in the air. Dad said I didn’t have to. Then he and Mom talked, and she said I had to go.” I cut my ranting off.
“Yikes. We do Christmas, but it’s more low-key. Lots of food, the community gets together a few days beforehand and has almost a little festival-type deal, but actual Christmas is just the nuclear family.”
“That sounds incredibly nice. I’d love to experience that sort of calm,” I muse, glaring at the ugly Christmas dress hanging on the back of my door.
I can’t believe I’m expected to wear the monstrosity.Maybe Mom won’t get her way, and I’ll get to stay home.
Ripping my gaze off the dress to quell the anger, I focus on the next question from the sheet. “Would you rather be loved for everything you’re not or liked for everything you are?”
Royal lets me move on without pushing back. “I don’t know how hard these questions are because I’d rather be liked for who I am. I don’t need everybody to love me. Acceptance is good enough.”
“Why are you so well adjusted?” I blurt out on accident.
I scrunch all my features, waiting for a reprimand. It doesn’t come.
“Well” — I can almost hear a shrug in his voice — “I guess it probably has to do with my parents not being the traditional good Catholics and Irish mob bosses that you’d expect. I came out at dinner one night, and rather than one of those horror stories about coming out, I got ‘That makes sense’ and ‘Which pride flag should we buy?’ I think Valor was the most offended, and it was because I didn’t tell him first.”
“Oh.”Is he gay? How did I not know this?My shoulders fall.I mean, it makes the ‘friends’ thing a whole lot easier.“I know for sure my parents would be the horror story about coming out. You’re lucky to be Irish.”
“So they say.” Royal snorts.
“Which pride flag did they buy, then?” I feel awkward asking, but it’s easier than the question I really want the answer to.
Why does it matter if he’s attracted to women, Leticia? You’re not allowed to fall in love.
“Nah, I told them that the pan sexual flag was ugly and we should get a flag from one of my favorite movies instead. That was vetoed, and the front of the house remains flagpole-free,” Royal answers so casually and unafraid to share these details with me.
I can’t imagine being this free with information. Surely not with the girls from college and never anyone from high school.
“Oh, I have one.” Royal pauses typing for a moment. “Would you rather always feel understood or always feel appreciated?”
