Page 137 of These Secret Years

“Mom, no. I told you. I was hiking—it was a disaster. What person could have possibly done all this to me?” I wave my good hand around my face as if for emphasis but really to keep her from looking at my forearms where traces of bruises from Quinn’s unforgiving grip still linger. I need to pull down my sleeve, but I also need to be subtle about it. “I just mean he’s not really in a position to be in a relationship, and that’s why I can’t say he’s my boyfriend, but we are friends, and we are close, and he’s a really good person. He’s like—the greatest person of all time, maybe.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly, a soft smile forming genuinely on my mouth. “But nothing’s gonna come of it. It can’t really. We’ll probably just stay friends. I just wanted to let you know that I’m—I’m gay, because one of these days I might want to bring a guy home for Christmas, too, and I didn’t want to blindside you. You’re okay with it?” My words come out in a rush.

She blinks through them, too. “Of course. I’m not some small-minded hick. I can fly a pride flag if I⁠—”

“Please don’t do that.” I reach over and put my hand on hers. “I mean, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but advertising it really isn’t necessary.”

“I wouldn’t be advertising you,” she argues. “Just my own beliefs.”

I sigh. “You’re right, Mom. You can fly whatever flag you want.”

She gives me a satisfied smile and takes another sip of wine. “Damn right I can.”

The car drop-off lacks any fanfare whatsoever because Knight’s mom is waiting in her Lexus while Knight hands me the keys. She recognizes me from the games, though, and while she looks concerned at my appearance, she gives me a smile and a wave, flashing me the hand signal for the football team.

It involves two hands to make, so I give her a wave instead.

“Tomorrow night,” Knight says. “You have plans?”

“Um. It’s Christmas?”

“Yeah, I know that, but we’re always all done by the afternoon nap, so I was just asking.”

His Christmas day sounds a lot like ours. “No, I don’t have plans.”

“Wanna hang out?”

I nod. I was planning to go see my dad, but I can do that in the afternoon.

“I’ll text you with a time and place. Keep your phone handy.”

With that, he trots back to his mom’s car and gives me a wave goodbye.

I watch them drive away until I feel my mother’s presence behind me. “Was that Knight Winters?”

“Yeah.”

“Cute,” she says.

“He’s too young for you,” I say without turning around. And too gay. And he’s mine.

“I don’t follow sports, but even I heard he won the Heisman trophy this year.”

“Yeah? Who told you that?”

“Will’s a fan.”

“Good old Will.”

She snorts behind me. “Good old Will. Also, hometown boy makes good.”

Maybe someone will say that about me someday, too.

I go back into the house and sit back down with Emma. She and I decided to do a puzzle today since my mom won’t let me help with anything—another thing that’s different about this visit. The puzzle is five hundred pieces, and it’s a small town Christmas scene of—haha—a main street with a bookshop, a cafe, and a five and dime store. There’s a town Christmas tree and snow falling, and, of course, the suggestion of Santa in the sky. My fourteen-year old sister still believes in Santa, which I find incredible. She’s fervent about it, too. It’s the way some people believe in Jesus, which makes me believe that she’s had to defend her faith in him more than once.

My personal project for the day is to be in the moment. If memories rise up, I push them down, reacquaint myself with the next part of the puzzle I’d like to solve, or ask my sister a question about her friends.