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Emily crossed her arms. “Yes, it is what you mean. This is
New Orleans. You think it’s not liberal? That people wouldn’t
want to buy my art if they knew I was gay? What the hell,
Mom? Then again, why would anyone ever find out?” She
narrowed her eyes. “We all know you and Dad want me to
keep that under wraps, especially because Dad thinks it would
hurt him in the polls. Do you ever listen to yourselves? How
do you come up with this? Did you sit together one night and
brainstorm all the ways you could be super hurtful to your
daughter? Just because you wouldn’t have chosen this for me,
just because you and Dad are conservative in every sense of
the word, doesn’t mean you should be allowed to tell me that I
can’t date and that I can’t be who I am.”
Sandra winced like Emily had stood up and slapped her.
“Em.” She gave her a direct, narrow-eyed look that meant
business and that she was also shocked and hurt. “We never
told you that you couldn’t come out.”
“No, you just told me that my personal life was best kept
personal.”
“We never said you couldn’t date.”
“But you did say that I should be discreet, and by discreet,
you meant I shouldn’t ever tell anyone I’m a lesbian because
Dad might not become a bloody senator then.”
“Please don’t say bloody. It makes you sound medieval.
And you’re looking at this the wrong way. Politics is your
dad’s life. You know how hard he’s worked for this.”
“Mm-hm.” Emily nodded. “So, I shouldn’t fuck it up.”
Sandra’s eyes narrowed again. “You know how I feel about
that word as well. We don’t curse in this household.”
“No. Apparently, we don’t do anything real. We don’t be
