Page 89 of Kiss Me, Maybe

“You know about that?”

“We only found out this morning,” my mom answers.“We had to switch seats when Antonia called. Your dad was so worked up I thought he was going to kill us on the road.”

“I don’t know what this family is coming to,” my dad says, barely looking at me as he stalks into the kitchen. When I tell him the coffee is ready, he grumbles a “thanks” before pulling out a mug from the cupboard to warm in the microwave. “This isn’t who Amá taught us to be. We don’t putanythingbefore family, least of all personal belief.”

He spitspersonal belieflike the words are acid in his mouth. I wonder if those are the words Tía Antonia used to defend herself. She wasn’t outwardly nasty to Julian when he came out last year, but later on I heard she was telling anyone who would listen thatJulianruined her birthday party and that his father’s actions were justified. I’m just glad I never had to face her myself, because we would’ve hadwords.

“So I take it she knows about me, then.” Word will likely spread like wildfire about the second queer family member, if it hasn’t already. I wonder how people will take the news that there are two of us. I’m just glad other people are breaking the news for me. Now I know who to avoid. And if they can’t be avoided, who to be careful around should I ever encounter them face-to-face.

“We knew we’d have to deal with them sooner or later,” my mom says, carefully sipping the mug my father hands her. “Don’t worry about what anyone has to say. Keep posting your videos. We’ll take care of them.”

The words only bring more tears to my eyes. I knew my parents had my back, but to hear them say so means more than I can say.

“You could’ve given us a warning this was coming, at least,” my dad says. “I hate having to hear everything from my sister. You didn’t tell us about your girlfriend—”

“Again, she’s not my—”

“You didn’t tell us about your videos,” he goes on like he hasn’t heard me. “And you didn’t tell us about what Esme did to you. Angelita, you know we love you, but we can’t protect you if you don’t talk to us.”

A wave of guilt rushes over me even as my heart warms. I may be an adult, but my parents will always do anything and everything within their power to protect me. I’m not even sure why I didn’t tell them. But I saw the fear in the looks they exchanged the day I came out to them. They knew the storm we’d have to weather from the rest of our family when everyone eventually found out. Maybe, unwittingly, I was trying to protect them from that by letting everything fall on my shoulders.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Good lord, I’m getting choked up all over again. “I thought I could handle it on my own. You have enough to put up with from Julian’s dad. I didn’t want to add to your plate.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” His hand falls on my shoulder.

“Your father is right.” My mom leans her head on my other side. “We love you, and we worry about you carrying so much without any help. We never wanted that for you.”

We don’t want you to be lonely.

Is that what they meant when they told me that all those months ago?

“You look so happy in those videos you put online,” my mom adds, her eyes shining. “I watched some on the way home.”

“I do?” I blink at her. “You did?”

“I think that girlfriend of hers has something to do with it.” My dad chuckles. “I know, I know,” he says before I have a chance to correct him. “She’s not your girlfriend. Not that I know what you’re waiting for.”

He gives me a knowing look, and for a moment, all I can do is balk at him. WhatamI waiting for?

“Well, in the spirit of telling you guys stuff, I actually have an idea,” I say, hoping to distract them from a conversation I’m not ready to have with them yet. “I could use the help if you’re up for it.”

“Of course,” my mom says.

“Anything,” my dad adds.

I take them at their word. Ever since I got back from Natalia’s, her idea has been brewing at the back of my mind. She was right. It’d be a waste to cancel the scavenger hunt, but what if I changed the incentive? What if I changed the reason for putting on the scavenger hunt entirely?

After talking over the idea with my parents, I only have three more things I need to do this week. Late Thursday night, I finally post the long-awaited response video. It’s temptingto limit the comments, but in the end I decide not to. I want to create an open space to talk. Negative comments will be ignored or deleted if they get too out of hand.

I finally make it to the salon on Friday, just before closing. My hair is in desperate need of a fix, and I can’t put it off any longer. When I glance in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. The top is longer than the sides, the only hint to my natural curls. I can just imagine the heart attacks I’ll give everyone when they see me for the first time. I smile to myself, because I don’t care. I think I like this new version of me.

Later that night, after my parents have gone to bed, I stare down at my phone debating whether it’s too late to call or if I should text her instead.Fuck it.This is too important for a text, but her phone rings twice before going to voicemail.

“Krystal, hey. I’m not sure if you’re ignoring me or not. I’m sorry if I hurt you when I couldn’t say it back. I still don’t know why I couldn’t when I…” I shake my head. “I don’t want to say it over the phone. We should talk—again, I know—in person. Come to the scavenger hunt. I changed the rules, so anyone who wins that isn’t you won’t get to kiss me. You’re the only one I want to kiss, Krystal. You’re the only one I want to be with.”

I hang up and stare at the ceiling until I fall asleep, wondering if I’m too late.

Forty-Two

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