mom’s waiting for me in the kitchen, sipping some tea, flipping through one of those stupid rich-celebrities-show-off-their-houses magazines. she looks up when i come in.
mom: how was chicago?
me: look, mom, i’m totally g*y, and i’d appreciate it if you could get the whole freakout over with now, because, yeah, we have the rest of our lives to deal with it, but the sooner we get through the agony part, the better.
mom: the agony part?
me: you know, you praying for my soul and cursing me for not giving you grandbabies with a wifey and saying how incredibly disappointed you are.
mom: you really think i’d do that?
me: it’s your right, i guess. but if you want to skip that step, it’s fine with me.
mom: i think i want to skip that step.
me: really?
mom: really.
me: wow. i mean, that’s cool.
mom: can i at least have a moment or two for surprise?
me: sure. i mean, it can’t be the answer you were expecting when you asked me how chicago was.
mom: i think it’s safe to say that wasn’t the answer i was expecting.
I’m looking at her face to see if she’s holding things back, but it seems like it is what it is. which is pretty spectacular, all things considered.
me: are you going to tell me you knew all along?
mom: no. but i was wondering who isaac was.
oh, shit.
me: isaac? were you spying on me, too?
mom: no. it’s just—
me: what?
mom: you would say his name in your sleep. i wasn’t spying. but i could hear it.
me: wow.
mom: don’t be mad.
me: how could i be mad?
I know that’s a silly question. i’ve proven that i can be mad about pretty much anything. there was this one time i woke up in the middle of the night and swore that my mother had installed a smoke alarm on the ceiling while i was asleep. so i burst into her room and started yelling about how could she just go and put something in my room without telling me, and she woke up and calmly told me the smoke alarm was in the hallway, and i actually dragged her out of bed to show her, and of course there wasn’t anything on the ceiling - i’d just dreamed it. and she didn’t yell at me or anything like that. she just told me to go back to sleep. and the next day was total crap for her, but not once did she say it was tied to me waking her up in the middle of the night.
mom: did you see isaac when you were in chicago?
how can i explain this to her? i mean, if i tell her i just traveled into the city to go to a p**n store to meet some guy who didn’t end up existing, the next few weeks’ poker night earnings are going to be spent on a visit to dr. keebler. but she can tell when i’m lying if she’s looking for it. i don’t want to lie right now. so i bend the truth.
me: yeah, i saw him. his nickname’s tiny. that’s what i call him, even if he’s huge. he’s actually, you know, really nice.
we are in completely uncharted mother-son territory here. not just in this house - maybe in all of america.
me: don’t get all worried. we just went to millennium park and talked a while. some of his friends were there, too. i’m not going to get pregnant.
mom actually laughs.
mom: well, that’s a relief.
she gets up from the kitchen table and, before i know it, she’s giving me a hug. and it’s like for a moment i don’t know what to do with my hands, and then i’m like, you dumbfuck, hug her back. so i do, and i expect her to start crying, because one of us should be crying. but she’s dry-eyed when she pulls away - a little misty, maybe, but i’ve seen her when things aren’t all right, when things have totally gone to shit, and so i know enough to recognize that this isn’t one of those times. we’re okay.
mom: maura called a few times. she sounded upset.
me: well, she can go to hell.
mom: will!
me: sorry. i didn’t mean to say that out loud.
mom: what happened?
me: i don’t want to get into it. i’m just going to tell you that she really, really hurt me, and i need for that to be enough. if she calls here, i want you to tell her that i never want to speak to her again. don’t tell her i’m not here. don’t lie when i’m in the other room. tell her the truth - that it’s over and it’s never going to be un-over. please.
whether it’s because she agrees or whether it’s because she knows there’s no point in disagreeing when i’m like this, mom nods. i have a very smart mom, all things considered. it’s time for her to leave the room - i thought that’s what was going to happen after the hug - but since she’s still hovering, i make the move.
me: i’m going to head off to bed. i’ll see you in the morning.
mom: will . . .
me: really, it’s been a long day. thank you for being so, you know, understanding. i owe you one. a big one.
mom: it’s not about owing - me: i know. but you know what i mean.
I don’t want to leave until it’s clear it’s okay for me to leave. i mean, that’s the least i can do.
she leans in and kisses me on the forehead.
mom: good night.
me: good night.
then i go back to my room, turn on my computer, and create a new screenname.
willupleasebequiet: tiny?
bluejeanbaby: here!
willupleasebequiet: are you ready?
bluejeanbaby: for what?
willupleasebequiet: the future
willupleasebequiet: because i think it just started
tiny sends me a file of one of the songs from tiny dancer. he says he hopes it will give me inspiration. i put it on my ipod and listen to it as i’m heading to school the next morning.
There was a time
When I thought I liked vagina
But then came a summer
When i realized something finer
I knew from the moment he took top bunk
How desperately i wanted into his trunk
Joseph Templeton Oglethorpe the Third
Left my heart singing like a little bird
Summer of g*y!
So lovely! So queer!
Summer of g*y!
Set the tone for my year!
Mama and Papa didn’t know they were lighting the lamp
The moment they sent me to Starstruck Drama Camp
So many Hamlets to choose from
Some tortured, some cute
I was all ready to swordfight
Or take the Ophelia route
There were boys who called me sister
And sistahs who taught me about boys