Camila 6:22 p.m.:
I agree
Valeria 6:24 p.m.:
Good. Can I take you out Saturday night?
Camila 6:24 p.m.:
I would love that.
Valeria 6:24 p.m.:
Perfect, you’re perfect. I’ll send you details later. It’s going to be the most amazing first date!
Camila smiles, the way she always does when thatpleasant ache begins to bloom in her heart. It’s been there for weeks now, gentle and persistent, settling beneath her ribs, deepening with every passing day. Curling through her chest and lingering in the quiet spaces between her thoughts, showing up more often than she ever meant to allow.
Saturday arrives in a flash, and Camila isn’t ready for it. Not only because of her lunch plans with her parents, but also because of her date with Valeriatonight!Honestly, the thought alone could make her faint. This might be the only time she’ll be grateful her mother’s piercing eyes are keeping her out of her own head.
Camila hasn’t even sat down when her mother says, “So, you wanted to tell us something?”
Camila clears her throat and swallows past the lump in her throat. “Yes.”
“How about a drink? You look like you could use it,xuxu,” her father says, already standing and walking toward the bar cart.
“Yeah, that would be great actually,” Camila says, needing something to fill the empty pit in her stomach.
Her mother watches her carefully, eyes slightly narrowed, a subtle tension in her jaw, probably trying to figure out what might be going on. Camila’s mom has never been the patient type, so Camila is glad she seems to be toning her curiosity down right now.
Camila is doing her best to keep the worry at bay, but it feels impossible; no matter how much she reminds herselfthis isn’t like last time, she can’t help feeling like that fifteen-year-old, excited to share her happiness with her mom, only to be turned down harshly. She knows—or at least hopes—it won’t play out the same, but she can’t seem to keep the worry at bay.
She and Valeria went over every possible scenario on the phone yesterday, playing out everything her mom might say, from unbelievably understanding to a replica of what happened years ago, and at the end of every one, Valeria would say, “And if it doesn’t go as you expect it to, you will still have me.” Which, honestly, is the only thing keeping her nerves from fully fraying.
When Camila’s dad drops off a glass filled with an amber liquid in front of her, she doesn’t stop to ask what it is. She grabs it and gulps down the entire glass, letting the liquid burn as it flows down.
Her mother’s eyes widen. Thankfully, her expression smooths, lips pressing into a thin, careful line, and she doesn’t say anything.
Minutes drag by. The only sound in the room is the scrape of forks and their knives cutting through meat. Every sound is louder than it should be. Camila can feel her parents’ eyes on her. Waiting.
She inhales. Once. Twice. Her hands are trembling, so she folds them in her lap.
“So,” she finally says, but the word comes out small.
Her mother straightens immediately, chair legs squeaking faintly against the floor. Her father freezes, knife paused halfway through his steak.
Camila swallows. Her heart is pounding so hard she barely hears herself say, “I’m seeing someone.”
Camila’s mother makes a face Camila can’t quite decipher, but she tries not to let her mind turn it into somethingugly. Still, dread tightens in her stomach, and her breath turns sharp, uneven. Her hands go sweaty and clammy, and she keeps wiping them against her jeans.
In the silence that follows, Camila’s mind wanders, despite her best efforts. Playing out a scene that’s entirely too real. One where her mother turns fully toward her, eyes sharp and assessing as she asks, “What happened with Zoe?”
Camila would stiffen—much like she is now—as she tried to explain that she and Zoe are friends and her mother would say what she always did when Camila didn’t like a guy she’d set her up with. “You only went out once; you need time with those things.”
And in that moment, Camila would realize her mother didn’t mean a word about her being accepting of Camila being a lesbian and had only ever been interested in controlling her.
That’s the version she’s prepared for, anyway.
After the initial silence, her father is the first to move, clearing his throat and setting his fork down carefully before asking, “What’s her name?”
