Page 95 of The Understatement of the Year

“Sweetie, please. You’re scaring me.”

“He’s not…” My voice cracked.

She held me a little tighter. “He’s notwhat, Sweetie?”

I wasn’t making any sense, and I knew it. It’s just that I wasn’t sure I could do any better. Not with the hot, crackling ball of fear lodged in my throat. “He’s not…” I gasped the last part out, “just my friend.”

For a second, nothing happened. I waited for my world to cleave in two, like the San Andreas fault. I’d spent my entire life trying to choke it all back. But I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I’d hadenough. But that didn’t mean I was ready to face the consequences.

My mother didn’t breathe for a long time. And when she finally did, it was in one great gust. “Michael,” she gasped. Her eyes began to fill with tears. “How long have you held that in?”

“So damn long,” I said immediately.

“Oh, Sweetie,” she said, pulling me to her. “My poor boy. So hard on yourself.”

And then I just couldn’t hang on anymore. I leaned into her shoulder, and a giant sob came heaving out of my chest.

“Shh,” she said, rocking me. “Shh.”

But I’d kept it bottled up for so long that I couldn’t stop. Another sob followed the first one, and then another after that. There was just no containing that flood. I cried until I couldn’t breathe, just like a kindergartner.

I think Mom cried too. And when I finally began to calm down, my head balanced in my own hands, my breath stuttering, she got up to find tissues for both of us. I felt her sit down beside me again. “You are all the son I’ve ever wanted,” she said in a shaking voice. “Please don’t think you could disappoint me with this.”

“Dad,” I choked out. It was just a single word, but it was a big one.

“He may not be as surprised as you think,” she said quietly.

I raised my eyes to her red ones. But I couldn’t even make myself ask why. I wasn’t any good at this.

“When John moved away, you barely came out of your room for months,” she said. “And that’s what heartbreak looks like. We were both worried about you. At the time, we wondered.”

Holy shit. I never saw that coming.

“Your father loves you,” she said. But then there was a pause. “I’m not saying that he won’t struggle. He’s going to have to adjust his… vision for your future.”

I could feel how much effort it took her to avoid using the word “expectations” in that sentence. And that’s just what I’d always feared — becoming second best in everyone’s eyes.

“…But your father loves you.Somuch, Sweetie. He will always be proud of you. Always.”

“I don’t want to tell him,” I said.

Mom studied me. “But how doesnottelling him feel?”

“Awful.”

She gave me a watery smile. “Rock, meet hard place.”

“We are already acquainted.”

At that, my mother actually laughed. “Oh, Mikey. Justbreathe. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

It wasn’t, actually. But telling her hadn’t killed me. At least I had that. I still didn’t want to be… that way. I didn’t want people to see me as a stereotype. Faggot. Queen. Fairy. I didn’t feel like any of those things, and I didn’t want to be called those names. I just wanted to be Michael Graham. It’s just that Michael Graham was attracted to men. And always had been.

By then, I’d had just about as much drama tonight as I could take. “Can we eat Chinese food now?” I was completely wrung out. Eating would be better than more talking.

Mom looked at the food on the desk as if she’d never seen it before. “I guess we can.” She fixed the plates, and I turned on the evening news. Though I’m pretty sure neither of us heard a single word of it. We were both lost inside our own heads.

Eventually we gave up on the food. When I came back into the room after throwing the cartons away, mom hit me with the question that I’d been avoiding for more than five years.