“You could have told me, you know. When your dad was out of town. If you needed advice, you could have talked to me.”
“I know.”
“Is it because of something I said?”
“No.”
“You used to talk to me about everything.”
“I still do.”
“But not this.”
I looked down at my hands. Mom’s hand, which had been twisting my curls around, paused.
“What is it?”
I squeezed my eyes closed.
“You always had this look on your face. Every time we kissed.”
“No I didn’t.”
This is why I didn’t say anything before.
Because I knew Mom would get upset.
“Did I? Really?”
Mom folded her hands in her lap.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No it’s not.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not mad you’re gay. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“You know, since the day you were born, your dad and I have been dreaming of a happy future for you. And every day you’ve grown up and changed and we’ve had to adjust that dream a little bit. For the longest time I felt like I knew which way you were going. But now...” Mom blinked away tears. “Everything changed after Iran.”
Not everything.
I was gay when I went, even if I hadn’t figured it out yet, and I was just as gay when I came back.
But Mom said, “When we got back, you and your dad were so much closer. And I was happy, because I hated seeing howdistant you used to be.” Mom held her hand over her heart. “But it hurt that while he was finding you, I was losing you.”
I never thought about that. How Mom felt, when suddenly Dad and I became a team.
And then Mom and I weren’t anymore.
I felt terrible.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m being selfish.”
“No you’re not. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”
