Page 50 of Winging It with You

A faint smile forms on Elise’s face. “I remember you deciding to camp in the canoe and me being forced to join against my will. Mom and Dad wouldn’t let you do it unless I tagged along.”

Even if it was forced at times, she was always looking out for me. When we were kids, it was Elise and me against the world. Two stubborn little messes. She was always guiding me through life, ready to steer me away from harm.

“We were frozen within the first hour,” I say, laughing at the memory of the two of us fighting over the single blanket we thought would be enough to keep us warm. “I can still see Dad shaking his head on the dock while we struggled to paddle back in.”

I run my hand over the arm of the chair I’m sitting in.

I didn’t know it at first, but my father had planned to sleep in this very spot.

Far away enough to give us the illusion of adventure but close enough to keep an eye on us.

Our parents were strict and there were a lot of rules growing up, but somehow, they still managed to let us make our own mistakes and learn from them.

And while neither of them would vocalize it, I’m of the belief they secretly enjoyed having their internal I told you so moments whenever either of their children had to learn a lesson the hard way.

“Lola and Frankie are going to be my karma, aren’t they?” she says, handing me back my coffee mug.

“Oh, mm-hmm. Most definitely.”

Elise’s laughter echoes off the lake in loud, thunderous bursts.

“They’ve really missed their uncle,” she says, leaning further into the back of her chair. “We all have.”

“I know. I’ve missed you all so much.”

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” she asks after a moment, emotion now filling her voice.

“Why start now, right?” I ask, taking another sip of my coffee.

Her eyes narrow and she tilts her head in my direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s early,” I say, quickly backpedaling and rubbing the back of my neck. “Truly, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, I think you did,” she says, each word more enunciated than the last. “Ay tonto, I swear, hermano.” Shit, she’s mad.

Or worse, disappointed.

Elise has always felt more like a third parent to me. A bonus guardian who may or may not have had a more direct approach than my actual parents did. And right now, she’s sitting straight up in her chair with that third-parent disappointment written all over her face.

She exhales, turning to face me. “Theo, what happened to you was awful. Being outed and exposed the way that you were broke my heart. Lord knows Stefan had to physically put himself between me and our car on more than one occasion as some sort of last-ditch effort to talk me out of driving off, tracking down that clown, and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Seriously?” I say, but it’s not at all hard to imagine. Elise is fiercely protective of her family. She always has been.

“That’s not the point, dumbass,” she snaps. She’s also incredibly sharp-tongued. “If you think for a second that we’ve all just been sitting here turning a blind eye to one of the worst things that’s ever happened to you, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Her big brown eyes stare directly into mine, and I see the hurt and frustration behind them, because on some level, I know it mirrors my own.

“Elise, I…” I say, but she cuts me off, holding a hand to my face, and instantly, I’m transported back to the fights we had as teenagers. Drawn-out arguments over who got to use the car on the weekend or whose turn it was to go with Mom to the flea market for the hundredth time.

“Just listen, please,” she says. “I love you, little brother, but sometimes, your myopic view of the world and how your family fits into it really clouds your judgment.” Ouch.

“I don’t think…” I start, but she interrupts me.

“Because Theo, I can recall almost every single conversation you and I have had over the last two years, and without fail, you either one,” she says, jabbing a finger in my chest to emphasize her point, “tell me about your job or ask me about mine. Or two, give me a full synopsis of the show you’re watching. ”

“In my defense, you are a doctor, so I’d consider that pretty important.”

She scowls at me, expertly moving beyond my attempt at defusing the situation. “Answer this for me. Did you ever go to that therapist I referred you to?”

A scoff escapes me at her intensified line of questioning. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m trying to prove a point. What about that veteran support group I found? The one that specializes in LGBTQIA+ service members,” she asks. “Did you ever go and check that out?”

I hadn’t thought about either in ages but can recall both instances clearly. She passed along the information during my depressive fog after separating from active duty, and truthfully, I hadn’t given it much thought at the time.

All I can do is shake my head.

“Exactly,” she says, the softness in her voice returning.

“I sent you those things as an attempt to open the door. To let you know that I was there for you. That after all you’d been through, I was, and always would be, in your corner.

Coming out was supposed to be on your terms. It was supposed to be this personal journey that you led with the people in your life at your own pace, and that didn’t happen.

And it sucks, Theo. It fucking sucks so much, I cannot even imagine how angry you must have felt.

Still feel,” she adds, correcting herself.

“But all of us—Mom, Dad, Stefan—we couldn’t force you to talk about a subject we knew was not only deeply personal but exceptionally painful for you when it was clear you had no interest in talking about it.

So, we waited. Hoping that eventually, you’d feel safe enough to share when you were ready. ”

“I didn’t think you all wanted me to,” I blurt out. “I didn’t think I could because I…I…” My voice trails off, because now, I’m recalling every interaction between my family and me.

While I’ve been sitting here waiting for my parents to acknowledge my identity, they’ve been waiting for me to acknowledge myself first. Have I really missed out on the last two years because of a…

miscommunication ? If I wasn’t so confused and throttled by this revelation, I’d laugh at the irony of our situation.

“What are you thinking?” Elise asks after a moment.

“I think I’m more embarrassed than anything.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m just going to say this, and then I promise you, we never have to talk about it again.

” She reaches over and grabs my hand in hers, her grip as cold as it was the night of our canoe-camping fiasco.

“Just promise me you won’t disappear again…

” I open my mouth to contest her word choice, but she cuts me off.

“Sporadic phone calls and FaceTimes here and there don’t count, Theo. ”

I nod my head. She’s right. She always is, and I’m quickly running out of excuses to justify my absence.

“If not for me, then for Mom and Dad. For the kids…” Her voice breaks, and the thought of my sweet niece and nephew sends my heart barreling toward my throat.

“I promise,” I say, turning my head away from Elise, the tears stinging my tired eyes.

Elise doesn’t say anything else but just leans forward in her chair and wraps her arms around my shoulders, letting me turn in to her like I used to when we were kids—awkwardly, given our seating arrangement. “You going to be alright?”

“It’s a lot harder being here than I thought it would be,” I choke out, my tears now pouring onto Elise’s—well, my—sweatshirt. “The guilt from not being here feels like I’ve gotten the wind knocked out of me and I can’t breathe.”

She rubs my back like one would to soothe a child.

“I don’t know if this will make it better or worse for you, baby brother,” she says, the calming maternal tone to her voice all too familiar.

“But that guilt that you’re feeling? You’re going to have to learn some way to let that go.

It’s keeping you rooted in the past. I promise you, Theo—no one is holding a grudge. Not Mom and Dad, certainly not me…”

I wipe my eyes on the back of my hands and Elise kisses on the top of my head. “A little home and a little bit of our family chaos will be good for your heart, Theo. You’ll see.”

Being here with her, in our place, I know she’s right.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, can you talk to me about what’s finally made you come home?”

Here we go. “Seriously, hermana? You couldn’t let this very rare, very overdue brother-sister moment last longer than, oh, I don’t know, three seconds?”

“Look, you don’t want to unpack familial trauma? Fine by me,” she says, crossing her arms. “But I would be failing you as a sister if I didn’t smack you upside the head right now on behalf of the entire internet and ask: What the hell you were thinking leaving Asher like that?”

“ Me ? Leave Asher?” I shout, pushing up from my chair. “I…” I begin, then swallow hard, not really sure where to even start. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Is it?” she asks. “I need you to explain it to me then, because Theo, I’ve had my eyes glued to you your entire life and not once have I ever seen you smile the way you did with him.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I stand up and turn away from her at the edge of the dock.

But, she kinda does. Which irritates me even more.

“Theo, be honest with me,” she says, joining me where I stand and putting her arm through mine. “Or at least be honest with yourself, because that’s all that matters. You fell for him, didn’t you?”

Does it matter? Like, genuinely, looking at this situation as logically as I can, does it matter if I fell for Asher? Even if it was real for me, it wasn’t real enough for him, and the sooner I accept that, the sooner I can put this whole mess behind me.

“Even if I did, it doesn’t change the fact that I was never his. Not really, anyway.”

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Elise says after a moment, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Because I don’t. Not after everything we all watched you two go through. Not after the…”

I reach over and squeeze her hand, silently begging her to stop because my heart can’t take talking about Asher anymore. “Elise, please. I can’t.” My voice is hoarse, and judging by the tears pooling in my sister’s eyes, she got the answer she was looking for.

The slam of our parents’ back door puts a pin in our conversation.

“Mommy, can I have another cinnaroll?” Frankie shouts, much more loudly than he needs to. His mouth appears to be glazed with the remains of his first one.

Elise groans against me. “Honey? Did you ask your father?” she yells back.

“He said yeah but only if you split it with me.”

“Oh, he did, huh?” Elise gives me a squeeze before turning to head back to the house. “How will I ever be able to say no to that face?”

“Thoughts and prayers, sis.”

She makes her way up the wooden steps, pausing before she gets to the top. “I love you, Theo. And I’m so happy you’re here.”

I smile because I’m happy too.

Happy to be around Elise and her beautiful family. Happy to be with my parents, in a place that is filled with memories around every corner.

Happy I’ve come home.