Page 115 of When Ben Loved Tim
His mother smiles as she takes a seat. “You always did have a sweet tooth, Gordito.”
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “My Spanish isn’t great.Gordomeans fat, doesn’t it?”
“He was a very large baby,” his mother explains. “My chunky little monkey!”
“Mom!” Tim moans.
“Perhaps you don’t want any cake,” she replies. “If you’re so concerned about such things.”
Tim hunches over his plate and surrounds it protectively with his arms. “Call me whatever you want. I’m eating this.”
His father chuckles at his antics. Tim’s mom pats his arm lovingly, so he’ll stop pouting. His family isn’t so bad. Not at all! And when I pick up a fork to take a bite… “Okay," I say, sitting back after swallowing. “I’m moving in. You can’t say no. Look how skinny I am. Ineedthis food. Adopt me, please!”
His mother laughs. “You’re welcome anytime. It’s nice to finally meet one of Tim’s new friends. He’s been so private since moving here. We haven’t even met his girlfriend yet.”
I look up at him in confusion. “I thought you guys broke up?”
Tim’s mouth is full, so he kicks me under the table while struggling to swallow. “We did,” he manages to say. “Now we’re back together.”
“When did that happen?” I reply, kicking him back.
“Just the other day,” Tim says before looking to his mom. “It was only a misunderstanding. Krista caught me talking to a girl she doesn’t like and got the wrong idea.”
His mother eyes him a moment longer before seeming to relax. “You’ll have to invite her over soon. Prom will be here before you know it. I want to meet the girl you are going with.”
“She’s really busy with cheerleading,” Tim grumbles, avoiding my gaze.
“I’d still like to meet her,” his mother insists before turning shining eyes on me. “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” I reply. “But I am seeing someone.”
Tim’s head swivels toward me, and now I’m the one who avoids making eye contact, because this wasn’t part of the plan. Then again, neither was Krista.
“A guy, actually,” I continue sheepishly. “Kind of weird, I know, but it’s just who I am.”
The table is silent.
“I’m sorry,” his mother says at last, shaking her head. “I’m not sure I understood you correctly.”
“You did,” I say, keeping my tone upbeat. “I’m gay.” I smile at them both. “Have you ever met someone like me before? Because it’s not so different really. I’m just like anyone else except for one little detail. I fall in love with guys instead of girls. That’s it.”
“Oh,” his mother says.
Tim’s father remains silent.
As for my boyfriend, when I look at him again, his eyes are pleading with me to take it all back. But I won’t, even for him. He might not like it now, but I’m paving the way, because I don’t think his parents will make a big deal out of one of his friends being gay, especially if I don’t.
“Tres lechesmeans three types of milk, doesn’t it?” I ask. “Is the whipped cream one of them?”
“Actually, no,” his mother says, before launching into an explanation of how three types of milk are combined and poured over the baked cake.
“Whipped cream is number four then,” I reply. “I think we should start a campaign to rename itcuatro lechescake instead.”
She laughs at this. His father snorts. They aren’t fuming with anger or dousing me with holy water. But just to make sure that everything stays smoothed over, I talk sports with Tim’s father, who does all of the heavy lifting. I mostly just need to nod along while he expresses his opinions. By the end of the meal, it’s like I never confessed anything at all.
Wanting to stick the landing, I thank them for dinner and insist on doing the dishes. Tim helps me in the kitchen. He’s quiet, occasionally looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“They seemed to roll with it well enough,” I tell him when this keeps happening. “Don’t you think?”
