A breath leaks through my gritted teeth. I try to put myself in her shoes, to remember how things felt when I first came out. It was an endless parade of firsts—first kiss with a girl, first date with a girl, first girl I brought home to Mom and Dad—all set to the tune of constantly slipping up and falling flat on my face. It was clunky and wobbly and new, like testing out your first babysteps in a pair of stilettos. Or maybe not stilettos. Maybe Doc Martens. A new pair that still needs breaking in. But I was a kid, and everything sort of felt that way. Coming out was just another portion of puberty for me, and as hard as it was to be the only gay kid in my grade, there are perks to knowing who you are from the get-go. I’ve had nearly ten years of practice navigating the queer world, so my shoes are well worn, but Idoknow what she means. I’ve been there, too, and I remember the blisters, even if they healed long ago.
“I do know,” I admit, and my jaw softens as I catch her gaze for the first time since her Mom showed up. “I get that breakups are hard. I get that telling your family about it is hard too. But you can’t just lie your way through this one. You really need to go tell them I’m not Mary.”
“Right,” Ellie says. She swallows, then in a small voice adds, “Well…or…”
“Or?!”
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could just go with it for a second, it would really save me a world of hurt.”
I blink back at her in disbelief. “I…what?”
“It doesn’t have to be a huge deal,” she says. “You don’t know how obsessed with Mary my mom’s been. She’s gonna think it’s my fault, that I let a good thing go, and I just…I can’t deal with that right now. So can you just come inside for a second, say hello, maybe mention something about the New York internship? And then you can go and I’ll deal with the rest. I know it’s weird but…please? I’d owe you one.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded, my mouth forming a perfect O.I’m sure she’s gone off the rails until I remember I have one major detail that she doesn’t. “What does your mother do for a living?” I ask, shouting as much as a whisper allows.
She jostles her legs with impatience. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just answer the question.”
Ellie huffs. “She’s an accountant.”
“And an accounting professor,” I add, drawing out my words to give her time to process. “Myaccounting professor.”
The slight annoyance on Ellie’s face slips into a pale, ghostly expression. “Oh my God. I didn’t…” she trails off, blinking in bewilderment into the early winter wind whipping through the window. “She only teaches one class.”
“Right,” I say. “My class. The one I’m failing.” A deranged laugh leaks out of me and, by the way Ellie’s pupils are dilating, I’d say she’s feeling a little off-kilter herself. She pushes out a shallow breath that fogs the air, then takes the words right out of my mouth.
“This is unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable!” I echo, then dial my voice back a few notches. “No one could make this shit up.”
“And she thinks you’re my girlfriend,” Ellie mutters to herself. The pieces are just now falling into place, showing her the whole messy picture. She rakes her fingers through her hair, slowly shaking her head. “God, that’s so awkward.”
“So you get it,” I say. “You need to tell her the truth.”
“Right,” Ellie says, but her frown doesn’t budge. “Well, or…”
“Again with the or?!”
“Listen, I know this sounds crazy,” she says, “but I think this might actually be a good thing.”
“You’re right,” I say. “You sound crazy.”
“I’m serious,” she whines, and I watch her reddish-blue fingers roll into fists for warmth. That or she’s about to deck me. Time will tell. “Please,” Ellie begs, “just hear me out.”
And I do. Because what the hell, we’ve made it this far.
With a twist of the key in the ignition, hot air blows full force from the vents, chapping our faces in a welcome way. I roll up the window and shift sideways in the driver’s seat, propping my arm on the steering wheel and my head in my hand. “I’m listening,” I say. “Shoot.”
Ellie lowers her voice to a hush that can barely be heard over the full-blast heat. “As far as my parents are concerned, Mary was the best thing I had going for me,” she says. “A future CEO. A Marcus type. She was the first girl I ever seriously dated, and they were all-in on the two of us. But without her, I’m just their wild card daughter who wasted their hard-earned money on an art degree.”
I wait for more of an explanation, but I get none. “So?”
“So they’re not going to give me more money for grad school if they think I’m just wasting it, which they will, if I don’t have my totally-has-her-shit-together girlfriend on my side.”
“What are you saying?”
“You’ve got this whole marketing thing going with Sip,” Ellie says. “We could spin that as you having a job lined up, starting your own business as a marketing consultant.” She drums her fingers on the center console, and I can practically hear the motor in her brain whirring and overheating. “The marketingdepartment is part of the business school, I think, so it’s not that much of a stretch to call you a business major. And I didn’t—”
