It wasn’t a long drive over to my parent’s house, and, despite driving well under the posted speed limit, I pulled into their driveway much sooner than I would have liked. With shaky fingers, I pulled the burner phone out of my jacket pocket as it buzzed.
JAMES:I love you, Avery. We’re going to get through this no matter what.
ME: I love you too.
I got out of the car, securing the handle of the bag around my wrist.
“Welcome home!” I called out as I let myself in the front door. Despite how terrified I was about the impending conversation, I was fighting a smile on my face from James’s text.
“In the kitchen!” Mom answered.
Her back was turned as she fiddled with the kettle on the stove. “You’re just in time. I was making some tea.” She turned around to pull me into a tight hug. “Thank you for taking care of the house, and did you vacuum?”
Shrugging, I turned towards the cabinet. “I got bored last night.”
“So, youvacuumed? Do you hear yourself?”
I ignored her as I pulled the three cups out of the bag and started to put them with the others in her cupboard. “Hey! You brought my cups back!”
“Yeah, I was cleaning out some stuff and found them.”
“That’s so… unlike you.” She put her hand on her hip and cocked her head as she looked at me suspiciously. “Wait…” she reached up and grabbed the green cup out of my hand. “This one isn’t even mine. I hate green. Avery, what's going on with you?”
“Where’s Dad?”
“We’re out of creamer, so he ran to the grocery store. Now, answer my question.”
“Well, I kinda wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
The palms of my hands began to sweat, and I nervously wiped them down the front of my jeans. I felt like I had rehearsed what I was going to say to them 100 times since I’d made the decision to leave, but suddenly, I couldn’t remember a single word of my monologue.
“Mom, I think… I… I’m not sure how to say this…”
“For Heaven’s sake, spit it out! You’ve already told me you’re gay; what could be worse?"
I felt myself instinctively tense up. “Mom, for real?”
She sighed and shook her head. “You know what Imean.”
“I’m not sure I do! I mean, I know you’ve never exactly been a PFLAG mom, but Jesus Christ!”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Avery. It’s ugly.”
“Ugh, Mom!”
“Ugh, Avery,” she retorted. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I want to break up…”
“Avery, you’re 22 years old. Don’t you think it’s a little late to divorce your parents? You’re already out on your own.”
How does she always manage to be so infuriating?
“God why do you always interrupt? From David, Mom. I want to break up with David.”
My mother literally gasped. All that was missing was a clutching gesture at the string of pearls she wasn’t wearing.
“Avery Thompson! What are you talking about? David is wonderful, and your father just loves him. Are you insane?”
