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Twenty-Two
Kiyana
I satin the driveway to my house, looking through the front window. With the curtains open, I could see Grandma knitting away. Mom sat in the recliner, a hardcover book in her lap. She never read any other kind of book. Dad and Grandpa weren’t there, probably doing something in the backyard. The climbing rose bushes were like his second child.
Tears stung my eyes as I realized this could be the last time. The last time my grandparents ever came to visit while I was here. The last time my parents saw me as just Kiyana.
The last time my mom ever assumed she’d have grandbabies the way she imagined.
The last time they looked at me without disappointment or shame.
Maybe the last time they looked at me at all.
Because whether I told them now or a year from now or even ten years from now, it wouldn’t change the truth of who I was. And Stefon was right; if they didn’t love all of me, they didn’t love any of me.
Mom glanced up from her book and saw me through the window. She waved me in, and I nodded, barely managing a smile. My legs and arms felt robotic as they carried me out of the car, toward the place I’d called home my entire life.
Mom opened the door for me, letting me in as she asked, “How was your time with the girls?”
She and Grandma seemed expectant for my answer, but if I was going to be honest, I needed to start now. “Actually, I went to see Stefon. He has a new boyfriend.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “What?”
Grandma sputtered. “Was he dating someone else before he ended things with you?”
I looked between the two of them, guarding my heart for what would come next. “He met a guy who goes to the college we’ll be attending, and I guess they hit it off.”
Grandma’s hands worked furiously through the blanket she was knitting, but I kept my eyes trained on Mom, trying to read her expression. She seemed more conflicted than anything else. “I mean, I’m glad he’s happy,” she finally said.
“Happy?” Grandma scoffed. “It’s not about being happy. It’s about doing what isright.”
I gritted my teeth. “You mean by not cheating on me?” I hoped that was what she meant, although I should have known better.
She gave me a look. “I’ve never been to a wedding at the church between two men.”
I closed my eyes, and Mom let out a quiet sigh.
“Things are different now, Mama,” she said. “And just because he’s with someone else doesn’t mean all Kiyana’s feelings are gone right away. She clearly still cares for him deeply.”
I stared at my mom, in disbelief that she was standing up for Stefon to my grandma. If I had learned one thing from my parents, it was that you never talked back to your elders, never questioned them.
“Things may be different, but that doesn’t mean better,” Grandma said. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re better off without him in your life, Kiyana.”
Mom tilted her head. “What if Kiyana said she was gay? Would you just write her off?” Now I noticed the tears in my mom’s eyes. Felt how close I was to crying myself.
Grandma gave Mom a long, slow look, then stood up and said, “I’m going to draw me a bath.”
We were silent as Grandma took her time walking away, but I gave Mom a questioning look.
“I talked to his mother today,” Mom said quietly, tears in her eyes. “She was so scared for him. Did you know that last year one in four gay teens attempted suicide?Twenty-five percenthad the idea it was better to die than be alive.” She shifted her gaze to the back bedroom where Grandma had gone. “I know it comes from comments like that. Like feeling that they’re not good enough or there’s something wrong with them.”
My chest felt tight, and I could hardly breathe. “So Stefon’s parents... they’re supporting him?”
Mom nodded. “What else can they do? Lose their son?” She pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. “There is no other choice. Not when you love your children the way we do.”
We?I opened my mouth, and all the words tumbled out. “Mom, I’m a lesbian... I like girls.” I covered my chest with my hands, feeling like if I didn’t, my heart would fall out of my chest. “I needed to tell you before I moved away.”
But she looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. “How long have you known?”
