Page 51 of The Tryout

Jesus, Finn. What a dumbass thing to think.

“Did you like growing up with two dads?”

Avery takes his time thinking over his response to this.

“I guess…I’ve never known anything else? And it was in SoCal, so I was far from the only kid with two dads. I think there are places where it might have been really hard.”

Yeah, like Poplar Bluff. To this day I still find myself a little surprised when meeting people who aren’t straight. I mean, I obviously know they exist, that they’re just like everyone else, but some part of me – the little boy growing up in Southern Missouri, probably – can’t help but be shocked by it all.

The first time I’d met an openly gay man – one of the social workers in St. Louis, after I got moved into Nana’s house – I’d just stared, open-mouthed.

God, he probably thought you were an idiot. A homophobic idiot.

But I’d heard from so many people for so long about how perverse they all were, and here was this balding, slightly heavy-set dude who looked more like a grandpa than a sexual deviant. And in the end, it wasn’t those “Christians” from Poplar Bluff who helped get me safe – it was Vince.

“The social worker I had when I moved in with my Nana was the first gay guy I ever met. I was…twelve? Thirteen?”

It’s all kind of a blur at this point, and I can hear Vince’s voice in my head, reminding me about complex PTSD and how I may not always remember everything clearly.

“That’s wild to me. I guess…I think I sometimes don’t remember that not everyone grew up the way I did, you know? I mean, Jamie and I have even fought about it before, about how I expect everyone to just own who they are, when a lot of people don’t know who they are. He’s…I mean, maybe he’s not wrong.”

The words definitely touch at something inside of me. I spent so much of my childhood worried about other people – my mom, my Nana, the kids at school whispering behind my back. I’ve never really had the chance to just sit and think about me, about who I am.

“So you saw lots of different options growing up, but how did you know you were interested in both?”

He shrugs.

“I mean, I had friends who knew right away that they were only into girls or boys, but I…I guess I felt drawn to both? And as I got older, I’d find my eyes lingering, or my body would get…interested, and it didn’t seem to be about whether they were a boy or a girl at all. And by the time I graduated, I’d…experimented enough to know that I was happy either way. Or neither way – non-binary folks are hot, too.”

My head swims with his words and I feel so out of my depth. At the same time, I don’t have anyone else I trust enough to ask these questions. I try to figure out how to put my swirling thoughts into words. As I do, Avery pins me with his gaze.

“Finn, I’m gonna ask a question, and you are one hundred percent okay if you don’t answer it, okay?”

Looking at him, I nod, both excited and afraid at what might come next.

“Are you asking about my experience, or are you maybe wondering about…about an experience you’ve had?”

Well, damn. It’s a good thing this guy has a degree, because he sure is smart.

I lick my lips, reaching for the answer I do want to give him.

“I…didn’t really have a typical adolescence, you know?”

He nods but doesn’t push, giving me the space to answer in my own time.

“I mean, at the age you were probably popping boners over half of Los Angeles County, I was getting pulled out of my mom’s house because her boyfriend put me in the hospital. I was worried about so much, but my dick just wasn’t even part of the equation.”

I don’t look at him as the words spill from me, can’t look at him. I know what I’ll see – horror, pity, maybe a little revulsion. Still, the words won’t stop.

“And then I was with Nana and she was everything my mom wasn’t, but she was also super old school, and sex was not a thing she talked about. Ever. And I just wanted her to keep me, to want me, so I didn’t talk about it either. And then she was dead and I was more worried about, well, literally everything else. And now I’m just this fucking twenty-year-old kid who never figured it all out and probably never will.”

I only stop because I’m out of breath, a cool sheen of sweat covering my body. I still can’t look at him, focused instead on a loose thread at the hem of my sweatpants. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand reach out, gently falling on my leg.

“Hey, Finn? Can you look at me?”

Shit.

I take a deep breath with my eyes closed, preparing myself for his reaction. Finally, I open them, trying to focus on his green eyes.