"Still looking for your Master’s degree?"
I nod. Dying.
She sits on the edge of my bed. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about…"
No. No. Not now. Please not now.
"Okay," I say. I try to sound casual. I scratch at my neck like a lunatic.
"It's about Gio."
I choke. I cough. I grab my water bottle and chug half of it. Why now. "I just—" she continues, completely calm, "I've been watching the way you…actaround him lately. And honestly…I'm not blind."
This is it. We're done. Behind me, in the fucking closet, Gio is listening to all of this. Jesus Christ.
"Mom—"
"No, let me finish, sweetheart. Please." She gives me this soft look. "I know things have always been…tense between you two. But I've seen the way you look at him now. The way he looks at you. And I just—" She pauses. Smiles faintly. "I've always liked him. You know that. Don't tell your father, but I think he's…good for you."
Wait a fucking minute. What? That's not what she just said. That can't be what she means. I was mentally prepared for a lecture. A fucking guilt trip. A"we raised you better than this."At minimum a disappointed sigh and some speech about God. I search her face, trying to find the sarcasm.
The trap. Nothing. I sit up straighter. "Wait…what?"
"Come on. Don't act surprised. You already knew I liked him. I always did. He's different around you. And you laugh more. You're barely home these days, too…and your car is here. I'm not dumb."
What the actual hell is happening right now? Is this a trick? A decoy? Did I miss a whole conversation? Did Gio bribe her? Did someone swap my mother with a cooler, less emotionally repressed version? Because I am fully prepared to lie. I have stories ready. A backup plan. A fake excuse for why Gio might be in my room.
Instead, she's saying he's good for me?
What did I miss? When did this become safe?
"It's not—"
"I don't need you to explain anything," she says. "But I want you to know…if something's happening between you two,reallyhappening, I'm not going to judge you for it."
I can barely look at her. And in the closet, he is hearing every word. She stays sitting there.
"You can talk to me, don't be scared," she says gently. "Your father's not here."
Yeah. He's not. But the man we're talking about is literally in the fucking closet. Right there. Listening to us.
"Mom, please—"
"No, baby, it's okay." Her voice drops into that gentle tone she uses when I got sick as a kid. "I just want to understand. Have you always known you were bisexual? Are you still trying to figure it out or…?"
Oh God. My eyes shoot toward the closet, then back to her. I try to speak. Nothing comes out. She leans forward. "Have you and Gio…done anything?"
My hands clench around the arms of the chair.
"Mom stop—"
"You don't have to be embarrassed," she whispers. "Please, just tell me. I won't tell anyone. I promise."
My heart is on fire. My brain is sliding off its axis. I can't do this. I stay silent. She stares at me for a few seconds. She smiles. "I'll take that as a yes."
This cannot be real life. I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with my mother.
I cannot believe I'm having itnow.
