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“I know.” She blew a long breath out, her chin still trembling. “My therapist says you can’t live your life in his shadow. You need to live your truth. I can’t hold you back from that.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she sat stiffly as if keeping herself from fleeing the conversation by sheer will alone.
“I won’t flaunt myself.”
“Oh, baby.” Her voice broke again, and I took hold of her hands, clinging to them as she cried.
My own eyes stung as I tried to lighten the moment. “Bet you’re rethinking not taking Valium anymore, huh?”
“No.” She sniffled and grabbed another napkin to wipe her nose. “No, I’m not.”
Her distress pulsed in the air between us. Finally she whispered, “What about HIV? What about AIDS?”
“Mom, you don’t have to worry about that.”
She shredded the napkin she’d used on her nose, the white pieces of paper turning to confetti in her twisting fingers.
“I promise,” I added, hoping to calm her.
Her eyes shone wetly when she glanced up at me. “Even with condoms, accidents happen.”
“All I can do is my best—just like straight kids my age.”
“The risk is higher for anal intercourse than vaginal, and—”
I squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “I’m eighteen years old. I can’t promise I’ll never have sex again.”
She laughed shakily. “I guess you can’t.”
Harry rose from his bed in the corner, came to her side and snuffled at her leg until she petted him. His tail wagged and he made a soft whining noise, so she tossed him what was left of her string cheese.
“Would you want me to make that promise?” I asked.
She jerked her head up. “No, of course not. I want you to have a good life with love and companionship and all that goes with that. But it’s scary to think of all the youthful experimentation people of my generation engaged in and then add AIDS into the equation.”
“It’s scary for me too.”
“You’re so young. Teenagers think they’re invincible.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Passion sometimes leads to terrible, heat-of-the-moment choices.”
I thought of all the times I’d given in to Adam at the slightest sign of sex, despite my best intentions to break it off with him or abstain. She was right. I didn’t know what to say, though, so I stayed silent.
She stroked Harry’s head and, after a very long time, asked, “What do we do now?”
“Make dinner?” We both laughed uncomfortably.
“There’s so much more to talk about,” she said. “But I don’t want to hammer on too much today. Are we going to be all right, Peter? You and me?”
“I hope so. I mean, yeah, of course, right?”
“Is there anything you want to ask? About your uncle, maybe? About me?”
I shook my head, my heart twisting. “I just want one thing right now.”
“What?”
I went around to her and pulled her into another hug. We clung to each other for a long time, and when we finally let go, we both had to blow our noses again.
***
The sun dippeddown toward the horizon and my Leica M6, my favorite camera, now mounted with an almost-new Summilux Aspherical 35mm lens, sat shotgun in the Volvo as I headed out after dinner.
