Page 108 of Theoretically Straight

“Can I come in,aroha?”

Shit, I can’t believe she’s usingarohaagainst me. “Yeah,” I croak. “Sure.”

The door creaks open, and I reach over to the stereo to reluctantly turn down my favorite song. Mom cautiously sits at the end of my bed and is quiet for what feels like an eternity but is likely only a few minutes.

“Where’s Dad?” I finally ask flatly, surprised he hasn’t also come upstairs for the inevitable lecture I’m due to receive.

Mom doesn’t look at me. She’s surveying my music wall where I have framed posters of all my favorite artists. It’s one of the things I’m most proud of in my room, and Mom should be familiar with it since she and Grace helped me hang everything up there last summer. But here she is, studying every single poster as if it’s the first time she’s ever really seen them. Part of me wonders if she’s looking for some secret message about my sexuality in my music choices.

Finally, she looks back at me and smiles weakly. “He went to the park. He said he needed a run to sort his thoughts.”

I nod. Of course. I guess I should be grateful for more time. And grateful that he’s at least thinking it over and letting his emotions settle before he takes everything away from me.

“Theo,” Mom says, staring at me. “I really want to talk, just you and me for now. Is that okay?”

I shrug. It’s not like I have a choice.

“I just feel like…this really came out of nowhere, and I just want to understand how this happened.” She pauses, then continues. “Because here I thought I was your mother, and I should have seen the signs or at least had an inkling of a hint that my own son was gay before–”

“Bi.”

She frowns, blinking a few times. “What?”

I’m genuinely surprised at myself for interrupting her for semantics, but now that I have, I continue. “I’m not gay, Mom. I’m bisexual.”

She considers this for a moment, a flicker of hope crossing her face. “So, you still like girls?”

I chew on my bottom lip, determined to handle this patiently, even though she’s definitely already drawing the wrong conclusion. “I am attracted to girls sometimes, yes. I was attracted to Sienna when I was with her. But right now, I like Caleb.”

Mom is silent for another few seconds as she processes this information. I focus on appreciating that it’s just me and her. Mom actually listens to me most of the time. She genuinely wants to understand where people are coming from. Dad doesn’t always have the patience to listen. If something goes against his belief system, he tends to dismiss it immediately.

“I know you said you’d been with Caleb for a few weeks, but–” she hesitates for a moment but presses on. “How long have you been…bisexual? When did you–when did you decide that?”

A nervous laugh escapes out of me. “I didn’tdecideto bebisexual, Mom,” I say with a shrug. “I just am. You know me. I would never choose to be something that broke any rules.”

“Then, why?” she asks suddenly, almost desperately.

My mouth hangs open as I continue shaking my head. “Why? Wh-What do you mean ‘why’? Why are you attracted to men, Mom? Why were you attracted to Dad and not some girl?” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated that I have to explain this to someone else when I barely understand it myself. “I don’t know why. I didn’t have a choice, I didn’t want this, it just…is.”

Mom’s quiet again, absorbing it. When she doesn’t say anything, I keep talking.

“I think I’ve been bisexual all along. There just wasn’t a boy I really liked until Caleb. But now, looking back, a lot of things make sense, you know? Like, remember when I got really obsessed with Sufjan Stevens a few years ago, and I couldn’t stop watching his live performances on YouTube? I thought it was just because of his music, but–” I stop myself and shake my head again. “N-Nevermind, that’s probably TMI. The point is, I’ve been bi all along, but something about being around Caleb made me…realize it, I guess.”

“So,” Mom starts softly. “You didn’t know you liked boys until you started hanging out with Caleb?”

I inhale sharply, anger rising in my chest. I know exactly where this is going. “Mom, he didn’t peer pressure me into liking boys. It’s not like that. I just–he just makes me really happy. Happier than anyone.”

We sit in silence for several minutes. I have a feeling this isn’t going well, and I’m terrified that Mom is going to come out of this conversation, blaming Caleb for turning me gay and never letting me see him again. I try desperately to think of something more to say to convince her, but I keep coming up empty. All I want to do is bury my face back into my pillow and scream.

“Theo, I’m trying to understand this from your perspective because I love you, and I need to understand how we got here. I can only pray that you know that,” Mom says, the softness in her voice starting to falter. “But you also need to understand that this isn’t–this isn’trightin the eyes of God, nor is it right in the eyes of the church, and as your parents, your father and I can’t just stand by and watch you go down a path that leads you away from God’s Will for your life.”

“Mom, I’m not doing anything–”

“We only want what’s best for you. You’re young, and you may feel this way now, but remember that Scripture tells us that the heart is deceitful above all things.”

I feel sick. “Mom–”

“Your father knows more specific verses about homosexuality and how God feels about two men having…relations–”

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