I laid down on the couch with my head in her lap, sighing contentedly when her fingers slid through my hair. I always loved it when she did that. We used to make pillow forts in my bedroom and have sleepovers, and Tashi would run her hands through my hair. It was comforting. It made me feel loved.
Once, when I was much younger, I sat on the edge of the tub, watching Mom style Tashi’s hair for a beauty pageant. Feeling left out, I’d asked her to make my hair pretty too. She’d looked down at her nose at me and, point-blank, told me that little boys didn’t braid their hair.
Later, after I stole one of Tashi’s bows and used some of her makeup to make myself look fabulous, Dad had a meltdown. He’d yelled and ranted for over an hour. Apparently, boys weren’t allowed to be pretty, and little girls weren’t supposed to play with Matchbox cars and Legos.
Sometimes, it felt like our parents had adopted us simply because they wanted little human dolls to play with. They’d paraded Tashi around in frilly dresses and oversized bows, while I spent my childhood being zipped back and forth to California for my reprising role in the kid’s sitcom, That Crazy Weeke.
I was shoehorned into a box where being a rough-and-tumble, sporty kid was my only selling point. It didn’t matter what I wanted. It didn’t matter what Tashi wanted. In the end, our parents always had the right to say no, which was the reason I moved out the week I turned eighteen.
I blinked up at Tashi. “You think Mom and Dad will ever be cool with me marrying another dude?” I wasn’t sure where it came from, but suddenly, I needed to know.
She frowned. “That’s… I didn’t know you wanted to get married, Dal.”
I sort of laughed. “I don’t, but I guess I wonder, sometimes, what they’d think if I met someone I couldn’t live without, you know? If they’d accept him? Or if Amber Run really is the only family who will ever want me.” I swallowed hard and blinked the mist from my eyes. “Sorry. It’s stupid.”
She pet my hair. “Let’s not think about them, okay? I accept you, Dallon. I’ll always accept you.”
I turned my face back towards the TV, where the cast was shooting aimlessly at the rumbling ground in hopes they might strike the tunneling beasts, and hoped my tears wouldn’t soak through her pants.