Turning back to the house, I take a moment, let my chest rise and fall, and hold my shoulders back. I knew this moment was coming, and I know I can’t wait anymore. It’s time to let my parents know who I am.
“Hello!” I call from the open door, dropping my bag.
“Honey!” Mom says, appearing in the hall, a mug of coffee spilling over in one hand and a magazine in the other. “You’re home!”
I whip off my coat, dropping it onto the floor as she fumbles to put her drink down, and we meet in the middle of the hall. She pulls me into a hug that says how much she’s missed me, and I give her one back. From here I can see through to the living room, where a small pile of gifts sit untouched beneath the tree.
“Is that Max?” Dad calls, followed by the banging of the kitchen door. He wanders into the living room, his outfit complete with gardening gloves and a pair of pruning shears. Without putting them down, he joins the hug.
When finally we’re all hugged out, I take a step back.
“Hey, can I talk to you guys?”
Mom and Dad glance at each other, and I think Mom might explode with joy.
“Of course,” Mom says. “But do you want to get unpacked first? Maybe take a shower?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head vehemently. I don’t want to wait. I can’t hold off any longer, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do what I’m about to. “Can we talk now?”
“Whatever you want, bud,” Dad says, ushering us to the sofas.
When we’re situated in the living room, I hop up one more time just to move the pruning shears away from Dad’s immediate vicinity. Not that I think I have anything to worry about, but you never know.
As I sit back down, fear erupts in my gut. My parents are watching me expectantly, waiting. My feet are suddenly freezing, I can’t stop fidgeting with the zipper of my hoodie, my face is on fire.
“I—”
“Just take your time—”
Mom and I speak at the same time, then laugh awkwardly.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Dad chimes in calmly.
“Okay,” I say.Here goes!“So I know you’ve noticed that I’ve been changing, and you’re right—I have, only I also sort of haven’t.”
They squint, and I can see them trying to make sense of the convoluted mess that is my sentences.
“What seems like change is actually more like, I guess, a discovery—like I’m sort of figuring out something that’s been true all along.”
They nod as if they’re sort of getting it.
“And the thing I want to tell you is that…I’m gay. I’m into guys.”
There it is, out in the world.
Silence descends on the living room, and I study my parents’ vacant expressions.Please just give me something…anything!
Finally, Mom tilts her head and smiles. “Sweetie,” she says, her voice thick with love, “thank you for feeling like you could share that.”
Dad nods in agreement, tears springing to his eyes.
“Is that… Um…are you… Is that okay?” I ask, shrugging, completely unsure of what I’m supposed to say next.
Dad looks even more confused. And without saying anything he stands, plants himself on the cushion next to me, and pulls me into his side. Mom hurries to join him on the other side.
Mussing up my hair, Dad says, “You never have to worry if who you are is okay, buddy. You got that?”
“We are so proud of you,” Mom echoes, squeezing me tighter.
