Page 110 of Ambiguous
Pop-Pop furrows his brows and takes a sip of his wine.
“My point is that, in today’s society, women can wear a wide range of clothes and have a wide range of interests without being assumed to be gender nonconforming. Yet many people still believe that a man who dresses as I do, for example, or who enjoys romantic films, must be gay. But that whole concept is heteronormative.” Jules smiles, calm and easy. “We have these things mixed up, and they need to be separate. My gender is male. Wearing a dress doesn’t make me male or female, gay or straight. It just means that’s what I wanted to wear on that given day. And the way I express my sexuality is in my bedroom.” He pauses, and I’m sure he’s thinking, “…or elsewhere.”
“Hmm.” Pop-Pop sits back in his chair and looks to my dad, shrugging. “You learn something new every day.”
“I see,” my mom says.
My dad nods. “I guess we haven’t had to consider these things, since Sam is, well, Sam.”
“Since I wear traditional menswear?” I say.
“And you look handsome in it, honey,” Mom says.
“Have you ever thought that I might wear suits and have pursued a traditionally male profession to make up for the fact that I’m gay?” I can’t believe I said that out loud.
There’s a sharp inhalation around the table, and Jules takes my hand, squeezing it and pressing a kiss to the back.
“Sweetheart!” my mom says. “You don’t have to make up for anything. We love you just the way you are.”
“Thanks,” I say. “But can you see how Jules is braver than me? Because he doesn’t give a, uh, flying frick what anyone thinks of who he is. He does what he likes because it’s truly him.”
Although he does care about public opinion in some regards. And that’s the problem.
My mom eyes both of us. “Yes, I can see that. Oh, honey, perhaps your true self is more buttoned up, though.”
I shrug. “Perhaps.”
“Or perhaps I can get you to loosen up a little,” Jules murmurs in my ear, his lips tickling my skin.
A shiver runs through me. “Perhaps.”
Pop-Pop smiles. “You explained all that very well. Do you want to write my next speech for me?”
Jules shrugs. “Sorry, I only write songs.”
“Good ones,” I note. And I lean over and kiss his stubbled cheek.
The rest of the meal is less fraught, with my father—in a gender-conforming display that amuses me after Jules’s commentary—turning the subject first to sports and then to the biography he’s been reading. Later that evening, though, as we go to leave, my grandfather pulls me to the side again, voice low. “I trust you know how to behave. Don’t rock the boat until the election’s over. Everyone is counting on you.”
I nod, tightly. “It’s not up to me, though—”
“It’s up to all of us. We can’t afford any scandal.”
And he’s right. Julian could be a scandal.
But I look at Julian, all smiles and charm and kindness, and my chest grows tight. He was so kind to my family tonight, even when he could have snapped at them. I watch the way he’s grinning at my mother and charming her. He’s just so easy to be around. His impish sense of humor makes everything he says seem both naughty and nice at the same time.
I will fight to be with him.
CHAPTER41
Jules
“Ihave an idea,” I say, my voice low, mouth close to Sam’s ear as we walk out the back door at Gucci in Beverly Hills. I scrape my hand through my hair and glance around. My heart starts thudding erratically in my chest, but I want this. It’s been a few weeks since Sam’s family dinner, and I’ve been thinking about doing something like this more and more every day.
We’re in a service alley—nicer than most, but still a public place, albeit shielded from the main street. My driver is waiting.
I’ve just taken some publicity pictures for the new collection, and they closed the store for the duration. Sam came along on his lunch break, because I asked him to. Now that I’m done, he and I are escaping.
