They sighed. “I guess I just don’t know what’s happening. I thought when I got really silly over someone, it would be someone more like Klaus.”
“Yeah, I thought I was going to marry Henry Cavill for a while there. Shit happens.”
“It’s not that. It’s, like, I just don’t think I can be with someone who doesn’t know anything about my life.”
Beth’s forehead furrowed. “But he knows you’re non-binary, yeah? He’s trying to understand who you are?”
“So? I’m the first non-WAG he’s ever been into, and I just don’t know if I’m strong enough to hold this whole thing together while…”
“He figures out if he’s strong enough to stand beside you?”
The tears that had been threatening all afternoon burst like a raincloud, and Sal bent over, pressing their face into the blanket. The couch shifted as Beth moved to sit next to them, resting her arm around their shoulders. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.”
“It’s not,” they wailed. “I’m not who he really wants, and most of the time, I don’t think I’m enough for me, let alone anyone else!”
“Sal,” Beth said, smoothing a hand across their back. “You are. You know you are. You’re a fucking legend.”
Sal snorted into the blanket. “I’m sorry, I’m spraying snot all over this thing.”
“Who gives a shit? It’ll be covered in baby crap in no time.”
Her kindness only made Sal howl harder. “I’m not like him. I don’tfitin his world.”
“But you do. You have a brother who played football—who coaches football. You have friends who are football wives. Do you really think me and Cheryl are going to be bitches to you at the ‘drink piss, yell about scores’ parties?”
Sal hadn’t really thought about that. It did seem extremely unlikely Beth or the hot bitch who’d shared her cigarettes with them at her bachelorette party would be an asshole, but that was only two people. “I dunno…”
“Be real with me. Is any of this stress you’re feeling actually about Curtis playing AFL?”
“What else would it be about?”
Beth was quiet for a moment. “You want me to be honest?”
“Christ, yes,” Sal muttered, a fresh round of tears flooding the blanket. “I’m so fucking confused.”
“I think you’re just scared to meet someone you really care about. And I know there’s other factors involved with you and Curtis, but honestly, everyone shits themselves when they meet someone they’re into. I felt that way about Byron.”
“But he’s such a twat,” Sal sobbed.
“I know you think that, but he’s really good-looking and scary-quiet. And I know it’s not the same as feeling like you’re… I dunno, betraying the indie gays by wanting to be with a football dude, but believe me when I say, I didn’t want to go out with some preppy douche who looked like a male model and was five years younger than me, but I did, and now we’re married, and we have two beautiful skin dogs.”
“But—”
“No buts. We don’t get to decide who we fall for, and if you really believe being non-binary shouldn’t be a barrier, you can’t let the idea of what you thought life would be like stop you from being happy. It’s what we’re all fighting for.”
It was such a beautiful, stupidly perfect thing to say, Sal howl-cried into the blanket for what felt like a million years. Yet, when they surfaced, the game still hadn’t started and Charlie was still lying in his little baby-capsule, totally asleep.
“Holy shit,” Sal said, scrubbing a wrist over their eyes. “He didn’t wake up.”
“Yeah, he’s a good one. Lucky Simon’s at swimming, or he’d be fully freaking out over Big Sal being sad.”
Sal gave a watery smile. “He’s lovely.”
“So’s Curtis. Or at least as far as I can tell.”
They felt their lip tremble. “He is.”
“So are you.” Beth gave them a long, searching look. “You’re no coward, Sal. If you like Curtis, and I think you do, don’t run away from him. Be brave and take a shot.”
