Page 94 of The Lovers
“I don’t need you to list every label in the sexual identity flag, Camille,” Dad snips back.
My eyes still pinned closed, I snap, “I don’t know how I’m labeling myself yet, so can we juststop?”
Silence stretches after my words. I feel them beside me, fumbling through this with me. I know they’re looking at me and each other. I know they aren’t sure what to say now. But in the quiet, my own thoughts whirl. The relief is bigger than I expected, like a bubble popped in my chest and now there’s all this space to breathe. But there’s also rawness. A sensitivity that makes me afraid to open my eyes, like I’m a person who’s been in a dark room for too long emerging to blink into afternoon sun.
“Cupcake.” Dad’s voice. One of his hands grips one of mine.
“Kitten,” Mom adds. Taking the other.
“We’re not going anywhere.” They say it together.
I blink my eyes open and turn to look at them. Dad’s gazing at me with tears in his eyes, Mom’s face is wet. My eyes fill up at the sight of both of my parents crying, with me, for me. Dad reaches over, brushing my cheek with his thumb.
“Well done.”
“What do you mean?” I exhale, tears dripping into my mouth.
“For telling us.” He tugs off his glasses to wipe at his eyes.
“You’re not upset with me?” I ask, and I feel so small and scared. So much like a kid looking for their approval. “Disappointed?”
“No, never—”
“But Dad, you’ve been freaking out over Mom being bi. You’ve been heartbroken.”
“I was heartbroken that she cheated on me,” Dad says, with a small grunt of disdain.
“Cheating is an awfully strong word,” Mom inserts.
“Not that she likes women, too,” Dad adds before she can say more. “I don’t fault her for that part.”
Mom grips my other hand, patting emphatically. I whip my head around to look at her.
“He’s surprised.” She bends toward me, kissing my cheek. “I always knew deep down.”
Our eyes connect. There are so many things I want to talk to her about now that all of this is out in the open.
“But the Ideal Rom-Com Life Path—”
“My Screenwriters of South Pasadena Reddit has a whole thread about the need for queer rom-coms in a largely cis-het space,” Dad adds, a spark of humor in his voice. “Be the change, I suppose.”
My life is still his favorite movie, but I guess as long as he isokay with whatever ending I want, that’s good enough progress for now.
“You’re not the one to write that movie, Clint,” Mom chimes in.
“I’m not saying I am,” Dad replies. “It’s just interesting and I thought Kit might like to read it.”
Mom winks at me. “I suppose you could share that Reddit thing to the Larson fam group chat.”
“Oh, you suppose?” Dad replies with another grunt.
“Wait, so the group chat isn’t going dormant?” I ask, and I don’t know why my lip wobbles and fresh tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
A look passes between them. It’s the kind that comes with years together. A badge of being truly known, something you can never lose once you have it.
“Of course it isn’t, silly,” Mom says, nudging my shoulder with hers.
“Stuck with both of us forever, I’m afraid,” Dad adds.
