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“I had an omelet for lunch at the dining hall and so far no shriveling. I keep checking, too. Just waiting for bam, raisin status. But nothing. It’s weird.”

“Still have your same sense of humor, I see. One omelet on its own is not enough.”

“I’ll have three next time. Maybe four.” She offered a cheeky smile.

“Thank you. A side of fruit will do.” Her mother’s face filled the screen as she leaned in, reminding Taryn of one of those fun house mirrors. “You never know who you might have to fight late at night in a parking lot. Do you have plans tonight? Take your pepper spray. I’m dead serious.”

“Later on tonight, I’m getting together with Charlie. I’m not going to pepper-spray her, though. It’s rude.”

“Your old sitter?” her dad asked.

“Remember I told you? She’s a grad student here.”

Her mom reclaimed the screen. “How is Charlotte?”

“She’s a badass writer now. I just read a short story of hers and feel like I have offered very little to the world in comparison. She’s so talented, Mom.”

She saw the corner of her dad’s face edge in. “Ronnie’s daughter, right?”

Taryn tensed at the mention of the man’s name. She’d still not gotten past what she’d learned about him from Charlie. In fact, it kept her up half the night prior. “That’s the one.”

“I wonder how he’s doing. I heard they divorced.”

“I heard he went to jail for assault at one point. Charlie doesn’t really talk to him these days.”

Her father’s smile faded. “He always did run a bit hot when things didn’t go his way.”

“Sounds like more than that, Dad.”

“Is that what she said?” her mother asked, clearly not liking the implication. Her parents were pushy, but in a good way.

“With a few more unfortunate details. I hope I handled the situation correctly.”

She watched her mom’s features soften. “You’re a good person, Tare. I know you did. Be her friend. It’s the best thing you can do for another human.”

“Working on it. Trying to find the right mix of available but not annoying.”

“You’ll get there,” her mom said.

There was a lull at that point. The awful topic seemed to have left all three of them grappling for conversation.

“So…how’s being gay?” her dad asked.

She laughed. “Wow. Thank you for asking.” She exhaled into sincerity. “It feels good to just be myself. Not that I’m a practicing lesbian.”

“Yet,” he said with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Her mother was a little more timid on the subject, which was interesting because there was rarely anything timid about her. Taryn remembered her mom’s reaction to first learning Taryn was attracted to women.

She’d been sitting on their green couch, clutching a throw pillow to her chest tightly. “I love you so much. I just don’t want anyone to ever hurt you or say anything unkind. I will tackle them like a linebacker and beat them with my Lillian Vernon bag. I swear to God, Taryn, I will do it. I might go to jail.”

“But that’s your favorite bag,” Taryn had said and patted her mom’s knee. “Pick a different one for the beating, okay?”

“I just want the world for you, Tare-Bear, and if there’s a woman holding your hand through it rather than a man, that’s every bit as wonderful. But I just pray she likes our Frito Pie Sundays because who doesn’t?” Her mom seemed genuinely concerned about Frito Pie popularity.

“I’m sure she will, Mom, whoever she is.” Taryn had sighed. “First, I have to work up the courage to announce myself to the lesbian and bisexual population of the world.” It had taken her years to even get to this point.

“You take your time,” her father had said from his spot in the entryway. He was more of a lingerer than a full conversation joiner, preferring to shout things and retreat. “You have a clean slate coming up when you head to Hillspoint. That’s the best thing about college. You get to start all over.”