Page 48 of The Tartan Thesis

“Oh, I already had most of this stuff. You remember those boxes you helped me move in?” I ask as I pour scoops of protein powder into the blender. He nods, then realizes.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. You shipped Christmas decorations all the way from Texas?”

“Yes, and you helped me carry them from the car. Two boxes were books. The rest were decorations. I did have the tree delivered from a local farm because I prefer a real tree. You may have noticed it’s a Scotch pine.”

He shakes his head and mutters, “You really do love Christmas.”

I smile and add berries and chia seeds to the blender.

“So you’re going to spend your favorite holiday with Maeve’s massive family?” he asks, clearly trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a slight hesitation beneath it that piques my curiosity.

“Yeah,” I say and hear in my own voice that I’m not as excited about it as I should be, so I try to kick it up a notch. “I love Maeve, and it beats being here by myself.”

“I suppose,” he says. We’re silent while I add water and run the blender, turning the ingredients into a thick purple swirl. I’m pouring the creamy mixture into two tall glasses when Torin asks, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yeah, shoot,” I say as I slide a smoothie across the counter, only a little nervous about what he’ll ask. But I want him to trust me, and the best way I’ve found to earn trust is to be an open book.

“What happened with your ex-girlfriend?” he asks and takes a sip.

“I, uh—” I hadn’t been prepared for that. I thought he’d ask something along the lines of why do I like Christmas so much.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s just that when we talked about our Christmas plans, you seemed like you weren’t telling us everything. I was wondering if it had to do with your ex.”

“Didn’t realize I was so transparent,” I say, lifting my smoothie to my lips. The cold sweetness hits my tongue, but it doesn’t quite settle the anxious feeling gathering in my stomach.

Torin shifts on the stool. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “I just… wondered.”

He looks faintly embarrassed now, as though he’s worried he’s overstepped.

I take another slow sip, giving myself a minute to think. Torin waits patiently, his hands wrapped around his glass.

“Lauren is great,” I say finally. “It has nothing to do with her.” I pause. “Well, almost nothing.”

Torin tilts his head, a mixture of interest and concern on his face. “We really don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. I probably don’t have the right to ask about your personal life anyway… given our past.”

“No, it’s alright. You and I are friends, and I didn’t mean to be cryptic.” I sigh and try to figure out where to start. “It’s just hard to explain.”

“Take your time,” he says gently. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Torin and I have come a long way, but not many people know about the dynamic with my family, not even Maeve. Just The Pigeons, and to an extent, Lauren.

“Alright, here it is,” I say, taking a deep breath. “You remember I told you that I’ve known I was gay since I was pretty young and that Lauren was a family friend.”

Torin nods.

“I knew my family wouldn’t accept it. They’re very invested in this… picture-perfect image they like to maintain.” I glance at the counter. “Having a gay son didn’t fit into that image. It would disrupt their social status if they became the topic of such perceived scandal, so I was determined to stay in the closet. No better way to do that than by having a girlfriend.”

Torin sighs. “Tale as old as time.”

“Exactly,” I say, my shoulders relaxing with his understanding. “So when it came to picking one, Lauren was the obvious choice. We grew up together, attended the same private schools, took family vacations together. Then we went to the same university. She was in the sorority closest to my fraternity, and we both studied business. We were always together, and we got along, and our parents wanted us to date…”

“So you did,” Torin fills in.

I nod. “And because I’ve had to answer this for basically every guy who knows I have an ex-girlfriend: yes, we had sex.” The words come out bluntly, but I’ve learned over the years it’s easier to just address it head-on rather than wait for the inevitable awkward curiosity.

“So you’re not a gold star gay, then?” Torin asks with a grin.

“Nope.” I chuckle. “I do not have my gold star.”