Page 112 of Against The Boards

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s why you’re fucking perfect for each other.”

I stuck out my tongue at him, and he kicked my foot. I had been wrapped up in Benny for so long that I forgot how much I missed my twin brother. Moving here on a whim was the best decision I ever made.

Tristan left a little while later because he was supposed to do weight training with Noah. I busied myself with unpacking until the voicemail nagged at me to listen to it.

I slumped down on my couch and pressed play.

My mom’s voice came out of the device. “Hey, Roxie girl, happy birthday. I know you don’t want to hear from me, and you have every right to be angry with me. I deserve it. I should have listened to you when you told me about your bisexuality. I still don’t understand it, but…your father and I want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Call me back, please?”

I stared down at my phone in my hand and debated what to do. Dad had been pressuring me to talk to my mom, and now she was trying to make amends. Before I talked myself out of it, I dialed her number and pressed my phone to my ear.

“Roxie!” my mom’s cheery voice rang through my ear.

“Hey, Mom,” I mumbled.

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“You should be.”

She laughed. “Okay, I deserve that. I’m…I don’t understand this bi or pan thing, but I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“Mom, it’s been years. I have nothing to say to you.”

“I know, sweetheart. But I want…I’m just sorry.”

“Okay.”

We were silent for a couple seconds, but it felt like minutes had passed. I wasn’t sure what to say to her. I was still angry at how she’d treated me, and I didn’t think I’d be quick to forgive her. It had been three years since I last talked to her, and that had ended in a massive fight. We had a full-on screaming match, and I told her to go to hell and never speak to me again. Another example of how I held grudges and was an asshole without letting people apologize. I wasn’t sure either of us could come back from that.

“Do you forgive me?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It really hurt, Mom. And now…”

“What?”

I sighed. “I’m dating someone new, but I don’t want you to think that means I’m straight. He might be my person, but that doesn’t change who I am.”

“Okay, I get that. Tristan explained that to me.”

He did? My brother said nothing of the sort to me. Tristan pretended he didn’t care about anyone sometimes, but it was all a facade.

“Why the change now?” I asked.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you since we got into that fight after your concussion. I was so scared of losing my child, and you wouldn’t talk to me! Why do you think I still reach out in the hopes one day you’d pick up?”

Okay, she had a point there. She might have reacted poorly when I came out, but I also stormed out and never came back. That was another rash Roxanne Desjardins move. When she came to see me at the hospital the night of my spill on the ice, I told her I never wanted to see her again. Screamed it at her. The pain of her being biphobic had been too raw back then. It still felt too raw now. I had iced her out because I didn’t want to hear any more biphobic rhetoric from her. But maybe it wasn’t just her fault. Maybe it was mine, too.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Mom, if you seriously want to make up for everything, you need to understand how hurtful and biphobic you were. I’m always gonna be bisexual; it’s a part of my identity. You have to understand that it doesn’t matter what gender my partner is, I’m still bi. I think I can forgive you, but it’s gonna take me some time.”

“I should have tried harder. I should have told you I didn’t understand it. I still don’t, but Tristan told me it’s not for me to understand, only for me to accept that’s who you are. Your father and I just want you both to find the love we have. That’s all we ever wanted for both of you kids.”

“Okay.”

“And…I missed my girl. I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but Roxie, you’re my daughter. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you. I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that.”

I picked at a thread on my jeans. I wanted to forgive my mom, but I was still unsure. Her reaction to my identity was a punch to the gut, but now she seemed willing to accept who I was. Maybe Tristan was right; maybe Mom had changed.