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He’s grinning.
Mom says, “Home a little early…”
I hear Carl murmur something.
There’s a part of me that’s not asleep. It’s the reason my eyes open, my heart racing before my retinas focus on the doorway to the dining room—where Mom and Carl are standing.
My mom’s mouth has fallen open. Carl’s brows are drawn together, his lips parted like he can’t find words. Ezra’s wrapped around me, his face pushed between my throat and shoulder. We’re both in our underwear.
I look from Mom to Ezra and back—as my pulse races and my body goes bloodless and cold. I can feel my hand tremble as I hold a finger up. I point to Ezra and then put a finger over my mouth.
There’s no logic in it. I just need to disentangle from him so he doesn’t wake up to this. Somehow, I manage to. Somehow, my legs hold me when I stand. I grab a pillow, holding it in front of me, and wave my mom and Carl back into the dining room.
“Come in here,” I say as I walk into the kitchen. I’m too scared to look back at them. I walk to the back porch door, and then I turn around and face them.
Time slows. My mom’s face has gone from shocked to what I think is fury.
“Josh!” Her voice is high and wobbly, damning in that horrified mom way. “What were you two doing in there?”
Carl’s mouth moves like a guppy’s. My cheeks and chest are burning. I can feel my eyes well as I look at Mom’s face. But I have to do this. I want to tell them while he’s asleep.
“Mom…um.” I swallow as my eyes well more and my throat tightens. “I don’t want y’all to freak out about this,” I say, one tear already falling. “But…I’m gay.” I feel my back hit the door, realize I’ve been moving backward.
More tears fall down my cheeks as Mom’s mouth presses flat and Carl’s eyes fly to her face.
“Don’t be loud, please.” My voice quavers. “Ezra will wake up, and it’ll scare him.” Thinking of Ezra finding out they know makes my chest ache, which makes me want to cry more. I cover my face and try to get myself together, but I know he’s gonna wake up and find out. He’ll probably never talk to me again. I put both hands over my face, trying not to really lose it.
“I’m sorry,” I manage through my tears. “It’s my fault.”
Mom’s hand on my arm startles me, and then my being startled startles her. She’s looking at me wide-eyed. “Josh…were you two—”
“We were on the couch, Mom. Sleeping.” I move away from her, my back to the wall by the porch door.
She looks at me, at my underwear, and I start crying more. “I’m sorry,” I’m starting—when I hear Ezra’s low voice.
“Mills?”
He’s at the back of the kitchen. His face is frozen in what looks like he wants it to be a neutral expression. But his eyes are pulled wide and his mouth is hanging slightly open. I can tell the second his eyes meet mine that he knows what’s up, and then he locks his face down, frowning at me as he stands there in his boxers.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
I wipe my eyes, and his face twists in sympathetic upset. He walks quickly over to me, but he doesn’t step between my mom and Carl.
“What’s the matter?” he asks again, looking only at me.
I shake my head, and that’s when he moves in between them. He comes to me, wraps his arm around my back. I’m not looking—I’m looking at my feet, wishing the floor would open up and swallow us both whole—but I hear him say, “Is there a problem or something?”
My mom laughs. “I don’t know.” She sounds insane. “What’s on your arm?” she asks, like she’s just seeing that. I feel like I’m going to pass out.
“I feel like there’s things we weren’t aware of,” Carl says in a slow, measured tone.
I hear my mom’s soft, “Oh.” Then Carl’s softer, “Wow.”
Ezra’s arm tightens around me. “If Josh is in trouble—”
“No, he isn’t,” Mom says quickly. Her voice is high again. I look up at the moment Carl puts his arm around her. Mom’s eyes meet mine. “So you’re both gay?” She asks it like she’s asking if we’re both secretly lizard people.
I’m opening my mouth when Ezra says, “Yeah. You got a problem with it?”
Mom’s mouth drops open, and her eyes fill with tears. Carl says, “Guys. Let’s all sit at the table.”
“You need pants on,” Mom says sharply.
“No they don’t. Let’s just sit down,” Carl says, as if he’s speaking to a four year old having a tantrum.
“I’m not mad you’re gay,” my mom says, sounding teary.
“Good, because if you were, you’d be a bigot.”
