Page 7 of I Wish You All the Best

I came out to my parents, and they kicked me out of the house.

To think I’d been ignorant enough to believe it’d go well. I really did. I thought that we could still be this happy family, no secrets between us. I could actually be me. And I should’ve known better than that.

And now everything is over.

Everything.

I don’t know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I’ve done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven’t done enough.

And at some point, I know I’m going to have to crawl out of this bed and pick up the pieces, but right now it can be just me. Just me, these four walls, and this bed.

The universe doesn’t have to exist outside this bedroom, and that’s perfectly okay.

“I still can’t believe them.” I hear Hannah’s voice echo through the house as I make my way down the stairs, because there was only so long I could stay in my own little universe.

“He just called from a pay phone?” That voice I don’t recognize, but it’s deep and gruff. I’m guessing that’s her husband. Thomas?

There’s only so much you can learn about someone on Facebook without actually friending them. That probably sounds a little creepy, but I couldn’t risk Mom or Dad going on my profile and seeing “Hannah Waller” on my friends list.

“When it was thirty fucking degrees outside.” Hannah drops something into the sink so hard that I’m guessing she’s broken whatever it was. I rub my eyes, unsure of what time it is as I try to guess where the kitchen might be.

“Hannah?” I call out, glancing around the hallway filled with pictures. There are a few I recognize from Facebook. Some from what looks like their wedding day, others while her and Thomas are out on a boat. They look happy together.

The door at the far end of the hallway swings open, Hannah pushing through, dressed in an oversized sweater and dark jeans. “Good morning.” She smiles, crossing her arms.

“Morning.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to make the curls in the back lie down.

“We made breakfast.” She leads me through the swinging door into the kitchen. The white guy from all the photos is at the table, empty plate pushed to the side. He’s sporting a beard and a shirt with a logo for a sports team I don’t recognize.

“Good morning. Sleep okay?” is all he asks me.

“Yeah,” I lie. My body must’ve finally shut down, because one minute I remember trying to laugh at something on TV and the next the sun was shining through the thin curtains of the bedroom. I’m guessing this is what being hit by an eighteen-wheeler feels like.

“Oh, Ben, this is my husband, Thomas.” Hannah nods to the guy at the table. It’s weird to think there’s this brother-in-law I have now, one that I’ve literally only ever seen pictures of.

Thomas raises his mug to me. “Nice to finally meet you. Hannah’s told me a lot of stories.”

No doubt I was a kid in all of them. Hannah offers me a seat at their super tall bistro-style table that sits in the far corner, the windows letting in way too much light for so early in the morning. Though a quick glance at the microwave tells me it’s nearly noon.

“Ben.” Hannah takes the seat next to Thomas, her hands folded. “Can you tell us what happened?”

I suppose there really isn’t any avoiding it, and I do owe them an explanation of some kind. The problem is I don’t even know where to begin with this. I mean I know where to start, but it’s like my mouth doesn’t want to work, like it’s stuffed with cotton or something, and I know whatever I say probably won’t make much sense.

“I’m going to go upstairs. Maybe you two should talk alone.” Thomas takes his mug and pushes his chair under the table, stretching his legs. I watch the kitchen door swing on its hinges after he leaves, back and forth until it steadily slows, and the door settles into its natural place.

“Please, Benji, talk to me.”

Okay. I can do this. I did it last night. Those three words and this whole thing could be over. But do I really even know my sister? Can she even help me? Maybe this was all some huge mistake.

But she might be my only shot at some kind of normalcy, at least for now.

“I’m … nonbinary,” I finally spit out. I even manage to make it two words instead of three.

Hannah leans back in her seat, sort of staring at me and not staring at me at the same time. This was a mistake. I’d found somewhere to go and now I’ve fucked it up all over again. Jesus, where could I go after this? Mom will have definitely called Grandma, probably Aunt Susan too. And I can’t exactly show up at any of my classmates’ houses. Besides, how would I even make it back home without paying for a taxi or something? I push back in my chair, preparing to go upstairs and get my things before I remember I don’t have any things with me.

At least that means a straight shot. Right out the door. There’s no way I’ll remember how to get home, so I’ll have to stop at a gas station or something, get directions. How am I even supposed to walk that far without shoes or socks?

“No, Ben, wait.” Hannah grabs my wrist, and I almost pull away. Her grip is too tight though. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.” She looks at me. First at my face, then the rest of my body, as if I’ve somehow transformed right in front of her. “So, Mom and Dad kicked you out for that?”