“Because nobody ever talks about it,” he said.
The real answer was that for most of his life, he hadn’t been able to face the pain of looking this conflict straight in the eye—and he suspected his mother and grandparents felt the same. Now, though, when he thought about it, he felt like he’d outgrown his skin, itching to shed the old one that no longer fit.
She turned to look fully at him, appraising him with sad eyes, then shook her head. She turned back to the counter, removing the plastic wrap from the chicken thighs and placing them in the vinaigrette. Her movements were mechanical, her expression distant. “I don’t think we need to dig up these old hurts right now. But I hope you understand that cutting them off wasn’t a choice I made lightly. I did what I had to do to protect myself.”
“But what about me, mamá?” He was startled by his own emotion. He felt so wrung out after the past few weeks, scraped so raw, that he couldn’t handle being shut down on this front, too. “This is about me, too.”
His mother moved to the sink, washing her hands, then drying them on the dish towel, the silence interminable as he waited for her response. “This isn’t your burden to carry, agápi mou,” she said, finally.
“Well, I’ve been carrying it anyway,” he said, a crack in his voice that came from deep in his chest. “And I don’t want to anymore.”
She glanced back at him, the movement sharp, her mouth twisting. He’d never spoken to her so candidly before, and he half expected her to reprimand him. But instead, she pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down at the table, resting her head in her hands. He set his knife down and turned to face her, leaning back against the counter.
“When I found out I was having you…I can’t even tell you how afraid I was. I was so young, and I had so many plans, and this wasn’t part of any of them. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. And your grandparents…they made me feel like such a failure. Like I’d ruined my life, and theirs. I couldn’t give them that power anymore, or I’d start to believe it.” She lifted her face to look at him. Her cheeks were pink, a hard, tense linebetween her eyebrows. “But I want to make one thing clear: You are not the reason we don’t have a relationship.Theyare.”
He stood still, arms tightly crossed against his chest, head down. “I’m not saying the way they acted was right,” he said. “But you haven’t seen them in twenty-something years. Don’t you think they might’ve changed since then? Don’t you thinkyouhave? I know they have a lot of work to do to make it up to you, but…will you let them try?” He fought to get his next words out, a knot in his throat again. “I forgave you. Why can’t you forgive them?”
He hadn’t meant to say that. Actually, he hadn’t ever thought of it exactly like that until the words came out of his mouth, but the truth of it washed over him like an enchantment.
He’d spent most of his life refusing to believe that he, too, was part of the endless cycle of parents letting their children down when they needed them most. Of children shaped and scarred by it.
His mother closed her eyes. “Oh, Nikolaos, that’s not fair,” she said, her voice trembling, two identical tears trailing down her cheeks. Niko’s stomach twisted with regret, and he felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for making his mom cry. He sat down in the chair next to her and scooted it closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry, mamá. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She shook her head, wiping her face with the towel. “It kills me, you know. All the ways I don’t know you, because we lost those years. I made the choice I thought was best for you, but…”
Niko took a heavy, shaky breath, trying to keep his emotions under control as she continued. “I hope you never for a minute think that you have been anything but a gift. I’m sorry if I ever made you believe otherwise.”
“But all your plans—” Niko gulped. She shook her head forcefully.
“You’re right, I had a different plan for how things would work out for me. I couldn’t even imagine how difficult things would get—or how wonderful my life would be now. I wouldn’t trade a single thing in it. Especially not you.”
That was his breaking point.
“Damn onions,” he mumbled, even though he was now three feet away from the cutting board. His mother let out a choked laugh. They sat there like that for a long moment, still and thoughtful, his hands enclosed in hers. Finally, she handed him the dish towel.
“Speaking of. We’d better get this in the oven.” She got to her feet, and Niko followed, resuming his chopping, the two of them working in a slightly unsettled silence for several minutes before he was surprised to hear her say, in a small, unfamiliar voice, “Do you really think they’ve changed?”
Niko’s heart leapt, but he fought to keep his voice casual. “Yeah, I do. Remember what they were like when Uncle Konstantin first came out? Well, I guess you don’t, but you can probably imagine. But now they invite his husband around to all the family stuff, and they all have a great relationship. I think they realized that having us in their lives is what matters most to them.”
His mother nodded tightly and didn’t say another word until they were done arranging the vegetables, chicken thighs, and marinade on the baking sheets.
“Well,” she said, as she shut the oven door and they began gathering the dirty dishes into the sink, “I do have a lot of PTO I need to use up before the end of the year.” She looked at him, her face solemn. “And you don’t have to buy my ticket.”
Niko responded by wrapping her tightly in his arms. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick. When they pulled apart, she rested her hand on his face, just for a moment, her eyes shining with affection, even as her mouth turned down on one side.
They returned to the dishes, working in quiet harmony, Niko washing, his mother drying.
The mention of his Uncle Konstantin reminded him of something, though it seemed a little out of place to bring it up now. But then, they’d never been this open with each other before, so maybe this was as good a time as any.
“Mamá?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m bisexual,” he blurted out. Her head whipped up, but she seemed more confused than alarmed. He continued, even more awkwardly, “I just…I just wanted you to know. To know me.”
She nodded slowly, understanding blooming across her face. “Thank you for telling me.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “Is there someone special you want me to know about?”
