Page 93 of The Lovers
Spinning, spinning, spinning.
It’s not just about the gay. It’s about so much more and that’s why this is so hard.
“I can’t even make a decision without touching a tarot deck.”I spit out the words like they’re a spicy hot pepper my sweet little tongue can’t take. When I open my eyes, it’s to see the two bewildered faces of my two exhausted parents. “You smothered me with expectation—”
“I’m pretty sure we’ve been extremely supportive despite the fact that we do not understand howtarot readeris a real job,” Mom says, batting her lashes and tensing up her face.
“No, you’re right. No matter what job I had or what I studied in college, no matter how many guys I dated or lived with, you were always supportive.” I direct this more to Mom, and I can feel Dad edging over, trying to get in my line of sight.
Dad was the one I was terrified to disappoint.
“You sold me on a life that was impossible to achieve. One you both knew wasn’t even really the life you were leading.” I look between them now and can feel the well of emotion ready to erupt within me.
Deep hurt and all this need, years of never feeling like enough.
“We didn’t think it was important to tell you about your mother’s history,” Dad says with a sigh. “How was it relevant to you?”
“These things, no one gives you a guidebook to follow,” Mom says, dropping all pretense in her voice for the first time in such a long time, I forgot what she sounds like without it. “I didn’t think it mattered that I was bisexual, since I was married to a man.”
The erasure of her own identity helped me be more afraid of mine.
“But you still tried to give me a guide with a really important chapter missing,” I say, throttling my voice to try to control the waver. I swallow a lump in my throat but it bursts out, making my lips wobble.
“We were just trying to be aspirational,” Dad replies, but his face shows the signs of breaking down. Tears threaten behind his thick glasses, big in the magnification.
“Aspirational, Dad, come on—the Ideal Rom-Com Life Path,” I say, almost choking on the words before they come out.
“Oh, Kitten, no, that wasn’t prescriptive—” Mom tries.
“Mom.” It’s all I say. It’s all I need to. The look I give her lets her know the rest.
“You’re right,” she whispers. “She’s right.”
Every smile came with a story. Every moment of my life was a narrative he wanted to play out in a specific way. My life wasn’t the messy, complicated existence of a young woman finding herself. It was a script with a specific, preplotted ending and any scenes that didn’t fit were scrapped. Unimportant. Ignored on the cutting room floor.
“Dad.” I crouch in front of him, gripping his hands in mine. “I shouldn’t have listened to you.” His brows are like caterpillars finding each other on his face. “I should’ve been listening to me.”
“I never said I had all the answers—”
“Clint.” Mom’s voice is a low warning. “Life with you is a pressure cooker and you’re the only one who can turn it off.”
Mom and I meet eyes. She gets it, just like I thought she would. She hurts, probably more than I can even understand.
Dad’s face creases, tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way—I didn’t mean to.” He grips my hands, worrying them between his own. “I didn’t see it that way, I didn’t—” His voice cracks.
“I know you didn’t.” I clutch his hands and now his tears make good on their threat. “I know you’re not a villain.” He was doing his best, even if it wasn’t the best. “It was a lot easier to be whatyou expected, and Mom expected, and then what YouTube expected, and TikTok, and Instagram, and boyfriends, and friends, and—to make all that work I had to shove down my own truth.”
I don’t think I can look him in the face for this part. I rise from in front of him, dropping into the chair between him and Mom. I take a few measured breaths while they watch, but I can feel Mom revving up to fill the silence. I’m about to lose my window.
Now or never, Kit.
“I like women, too.”
My voice is small but I’m proud there’s no wobble in it. I close my eyes to shut out the world, to let them have their reaction and not feel like they have to hide it on their faces.
“You what?” Dad exclaims the question.
“She’s bi, Clint,” Mom says, like she’s trying to shush him. “Or pan or queer or—”
