I’m up and dressed and ready to face the shit day ahead of me
Oh no, what’s wrong? Did something happen?
Oh no big deal, didn’t mean to be so dramatic, sorry
Gotta help pop clean out the garage
It’s a big job and it’s going to take all afternoon
Not looking forward to it AT ALL
Don’t know what is worse. Manual labor or having to make small talk with dad
Well, I want to ask you something
Hopefully this will make your day better
Would you like to have Thanksgiving dinner with me and my family?
No response. No three dots on the screen. I stare at my phone waiting for a yes in capital letters to appear, but nothing happens. My heart races and I wonder what to do. Finally, the dots appear but then quickly disappear. It happens again and again. What the fuck! Is he ghosting me? Eventually the phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Simon. I thought I should call you instead of texting.”
“Okay,” I say.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to rip the bandage off. I haven’t told my parents about you. I’m ashamed and embarrassed about this, and I do want to tell them about you. About us, really, I just haven’t gotten the nerve yet. Plus, Suzi is coming over and spending Thanksgiving with me.”
My mouth is dry, and I’m not sure how to respond. Defeated, I say, “Okay, I understand.” But I don’t.
“Please, Simon, I know you are disappointed. I would love to spend Thanksgiving with you too. But, you know, my parents, they just aren’t comfortable with the idea of me being gay. But I swear to you. I’m going to tell them about us. That’s a promise.”
“When?”
“What?”
“When are you going to tell them about us?”
PJ breathes heavily through the phone and sighs. “Soon. Maybe by Christmas. Well, maybe not Christmas. At least by the new year. It can be my New Year’s resolution. How does that sound?”
I want to hang up the phone. What’s going to go wrong next? Instead, I spit back, “Do your parents think Suzi is your girlfriend?”
No answer, just more heavy breathing.
“They do, don’t they?”
“No, Simon. Well, maybe. I don’t know. We don’t talk about that either. I suppose they might make that assumption. But I’m not sure.”
“Guess I’ll let you go. Have fun cleaning out the garage,” I say curtly and end the call just as I hear PJ apologizing again.
Damn it! This was not the response I thought I would get from him. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do but accept the situation. I can’t force him to tell his parents about us. So, I drag myself to the kitchen and plop down in a chair like a heavy sack of potatoes.
“Good morning,” Carole says weakly. “I heard the shower going, so I knew you were up, and I thought I would make us a late breakfast.”
“Oh my God, Carole, are you making pancakes?”
“I am. Would you like blueberry or banana? We also have leftover pineapple, melon, and kiwi that I’m thinking of making into a fruit salad. I’m determined to use up the giant fruit platter.”
