by Jo Knowles
“Maybe,” I say. And I realize how sad that is. And how I really don’t know my mom at all. “I guess I shouldn’t have been so hard on her last night. She was only trying to protect me.”
“Nah. I think she went a little nuts.” He leans back and closes his eyes. “Man, our moms are really messed up.” His voice sounds a little shaky, like he’s trying not to cry.
I lean next to him and slowly, very slowly, reach my hand across the rough shingles until I find his. He doesn’t say anything as our fingers meet.
“I don’t want to be lonely and scared like them,” I say.
He squeezes my hand. I wish I could tell if it’s a friendly squeeze or something more.
“You won’t be,” he says. “I promise.”
chapter sixteen
Our hands don’t even have time to get sweaty before the familiar sound of ABBA playing on a car stereo comes from the street below. Henry lets go and starts to sit up.
“Let’s just stay,” I say. “I don’t want to deal with them.”
He leans back down and covers his eyes with his arm. Car doors creak open and slam shut. Then my mom’s keys jiggle in the lock of the trunk and there’s the rustle of what sounds like twenty shopping bags being hauled out of it.
We listen to their mumbled voices inside. “Bean?” My mom calls from downstairs.
I don’t answer.
Someone opens my mom’s tiny dormer window above us. Then springs on her bed squeak. “Lord, it’s hot,” Claire’s voice says through the screen.
“I’ll make lemonade,” my mom says. Her flip-flops slap against her feet as she goes down the hall.
Bags rustle in the bedroom.
“This will look great on you,” Claire says.
“Oh, I’m not sure,” Sally answers.
“Try it on!”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Sally! Live a little. I’ll put on my new outfit, too. Too bad Bean and Henry aren’t here. We could put on a fashion show for them! Did you ever do that when you were a kid? My sister and I used to put on a show every September when we got home from buying our new school clothes.”
Henry jerks his head toward the bathroom window in a “Let’s go” sort of way. But I stay put.
“Sally,” Claire says a little quietly, “are you worried about Lexie?”
“Why?” Sally says even more quietly.
Yes, I think, turning my head toward the window. Why?
“She still hasn’t told Bean about us.”
I look at Henry.
Us?
“How long do you think this can go on before she figures it out herself? Don’t you think we should tell her now?” Claire asks.
My ears start to buzz.
“The truth can hurt,” Sally says quietly.
Shopping bags rustle.
I dig my fingernails into the hot shingles.
“But it shouldn’t have to. Damn it. We’ve been quiet for fifteen years. I want to shout it from the rooftop!” Claire’s voice is loud again, as if she really is going to climb out my mom’s bedroom window and join us.
I look at Henry, who stares at me with his mouth open. My brain swims in my skull and I can’t quite make sense of what’s happening. And yet, it all makes sense now. It’s so obvious.
Henry concentrates on chewing the inside of his mouth. A dribble of sweat trickles down his temple and over his jaw, but he doesn’t wipe it away.
“Hey, sweetie.” It’s my mom’s voice. “You going to model for me?”
“Maybe I should go,” Sally says.
“Oh, stay,” says Claire. “We promise to be good.”
Henry and I don’t move.
“I was telling Sally I think it’s time,” Claire says.
“I know, I know,” my mom says. “I just don’t know how to bring it up. All these years keeping us a secret. How do you just come out and tell your kid you’re gay?”
I knew the words were coming, but somehow I’m still not prepared to hear that my mom’s been lying to me my entire life. I feel myself slowly slipping down the slanted roof, and Henry’s hands grabbing at me. At the same time he yells, “Bean!” and I scream.
Everything happens at high speed. The window screen creaks as someone forces it open. I look up and see my mom’s panicked face.
My throat tightens. Henry holds on. His hands are under my armpits. I feel like a puppet. I cringe, then force myself to turn and face my mom. Her red hair is falling out of its ponytail.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, crawling back up the roof with Henry following carefully behind.
“Beany,” she says. Her eyes plead with me, but I’m not sure what they’re asking. The shingles scrape my knees and the palms of my hands. Henry crawls beside me, breathing heavily. He puts a hand on my back.
My mom opens her mouth again but nothing comes out.
I’m crying.
Sally’s head appears next to my mom. “Hen!” she yells when she sees him. “You’ll fall!”
Claire squeezes her head between my mom’s and Sally’s. They’re like the Three Stooges with their heads popping out the window like that—only they are not funny. They are the anti Three Stooges.
“I’m so sorry, Beany,” my mom says. She looks scared, but I’m not going to let her make me feel sorry for her. I don’t even think she knows what she’s apologizing for: being gay or lying. It makes me want to scream.
“You could have told me!” I yell, digging my nails into the hot shingles. “You could’ve trusted me!”
“It’s not your mom’s fault, Beany,” Claire says, putting her hand on my mom’s shoulder.
“Oh, would you SHUT UP, Claire! You don’t know anything!” I yell. “I would have understood!” The tears are really flowing now. I want to scream and run and disappear all at the same time. The truth of it floods over me so fast I can hardly breathe.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I sob.
“I was afraid,” my mom says. She’s crying too. Even Claire looks like she might start. Sally too. Good.
“What were you afraid of?” I ask. “What did you think I would do? Were you just going to lie to me for the rest of my life? Am I that unimportant to you? Do you not know me at all? Do you really think I’d hate you just because you like women? This isn’t the 1950s, Mom!”
“Oh, Beany, that’s not it at all.”
“What then!” My nose is running but I don’t dare reach up to wipe it. “I swear, Mom. You don’t know me. I’m your daughter and you don’t know me.”
Henry manages to shift around to a safer position, not facing the three heads.
“Please come in so we can talk.”
“Just forget it,” I say. “It doesn’t matter. Now you guys can stop sneaking around, pretending to be friends.”
“We are friends,” my mom says.
“No you’re not! You’re girlfriends! And you’re—you’re liars! All three of you!”
I twist away from them as the truth continues to sink in. They all lied to me. Even Sally kept the secret. Sally, who has been a part of my life all these years. Mine. Not theirs.
“Bean, just come inside. The whole neighborhood can hear you.”
“I don’t care!” I yell. “Claire’s the one who wants to shout it from the rooftop! Now’s her chance!”
“That’s not fair!” Claire snaps. “Your mom was only trying to protect you.”
I turn back to face them. “Protect me from what?”
“The truth!” my mom says. She wipes her eyes. “Oh, Bean. The truth about Gus. And me. And everything.”
“I don’t need to be protected, Mom.”
“You don’t understand.”
“How could I if you don’t even give me a chance?”
My mom bites her bottom lip. “It’s not that easy,” she says quietly.
“You could have told me. You could have told both of us. Gus would have understood. You never gave him enough credit. You were always so mean to him.
You were totally misleading him, dressing up like you did and making him think you were out picking up guys. Why would you do that? He was worried about you and you just rubbed it in his face! How could you?” Sobs come out of me and I can’t talk anymore. I bury my face against my knees. Henry touches my arm.
“Please. Just go,” I say. I feel so ugly and awful. It hurts to feel his eyes on me.
“I’m not leaving you,” he says.
“Bean!” My mom tries again. I put my hands over my ears.
“Leave me alone!”
“Honey, it’s not what you think,” my mom says desperately. “Please come in so we can talk. So I can explain.”
Honey? She’s never called me honey in my life. That’s Sally’s word. It’s a word for a mother to call her daughter. And it sounds wrong coming from her mouth.
I shake my head and press my hands over my ears even harder. “Leave. Me. Alone.”
“Fine.” The screen slides down. Their voices move out of the room, but I can hear Claire and my mom yelling at each other. Good.
“Bean,” Henry says.
“I’m sorry, Hen. I just—really need to be alone.” I don’t dare look at him.
“But—”
“Seriously, Henry. Please.” I wipe my eyes on the back of my arm.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “I understand. Call me later.”
He crawls away from me. I listen to him struggle through the bathroom window, then to the quiet he leaves behind. The lacy light through the tree sparkles on the faded black shingles, as if this should be a magical place. I scoot over to a shadier spot. In the distance, summer traffic keeps moving. Car stereos blare music I can’t hear the words to, only feel.
She lied. She lied she lied she lied.
But why?
I ask the question over and over, but I can’t think of any reasons that make sense or don’t hurt. She didn’t trust me. She didn’t know me well enough to know I wouldn’t care. She didn’t feel close enough to me to want to share the truth.
After a while, the heat from the sun on the shingles is too much to bear, and I carefully crawl back toward the bathroom window and climb through as quietly as I can. Then I drink from the sink faucet. The water tastes metallic and dirty. I put the lid down on the toilet and sit, listening for my mom and Claire. But the house is silent. So silent, I have to cover my ears from the ringing of it.
chapter seventeen
I don’t know how she comes up on me, but she’s here, on silent feet, standing in the bathroom doorway. Her face is splotchy from crying.
“Let me explain,” she says slowly.
“You don’t understand,” I interrupt. I’m still sitting on the stupid toilet seat lid. It’s cold and uncomfortable, but I’m trapped.
“Bean—”
“It’s not about you and Claire, Mom. It’s about the secrets. The lies. You could have told me. But you never took the time to get to know me well enough to know that. You were always working extra shifts, or staying out late with—Claire.”
“It wasn’t you I wanted to keep the secret from. It was Gus.”
“We aren’t—weren’t—the same person!”
“Bean. I didn’t tell anyone.” She stays in the doorway, her hands on the frame to hold herself up.
“I’m not anyone. I’m your daughter! Don’t you get that? I know you never wanted me. But I’m here! Besides, welcome to the twenty-first century, Mom. People are gay. It’s not a big deal. Lying about it is!
She takes a step inside the tiny room. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Beany! I didn’t want you to have to keep a secret from Gus. He loved you.”
“God, Mom. He loved you, too! You know he did.”
She rolls her eyes and sits down on the edge of the tub.
“He did,” I say again.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes I do. Gus wasn’t the bad guy you make him out to be. Look how he took care of me! He was the best grandfather. And he was probably a great father, too. You just—did stuff to make him upset. You were always wearing those short skirts and stuff just to piss him off. He got angry because he was worried about you! He didn’t want you to get hurt again. Like with Bill.”
“No. That’s not it. That’s not why Gus spoke to me like that.”
“Yes it is! You’re lying again!”
“I wish I was.” She scoots along the edge of the tub, closer to me. “God, I really wish I was.”
“What is it, Mom. More lies? More secrets you need to come clean on? What, did you lie about Bill, too?”
She clasps and unclasps her hands. She plays with her thumb ring. She picks the dirt from under the nail of her index finger.
“You did, didn’t you? I can’t believe this. Why can’t you just tell me the truth!”
“The truth hurts. That’s why I haven’t told you.”
“Stop it! Stop with the stupid clichés! I’m not a little kid! Maybe the truth hurts you, Mom. But it doesn’t hurt me. It’s the lies that hurt. Your lies. You’re acting like you know what’s best for me. You don’t know anything about me!”
“And you don’t know anything about me!”
“Yeah! I know! And whose fault is that?” I slap my knees with my hands, getting ready to bolt out of the room.
She rubs her palm over her forehead. “You don’t want to know this. Trust me. Some things are better left unknown.”
“That’s such a cop-out! Why don’t you trust me to be able to handle things?”
“Fine! You want to know the truth? You think you’re so strong? You think you know everything? Fine. He caught us together, okay?”
“You and Bill?”
“No! Me and—me and Claire.”
“We were talking about Bill. I don’t care about stupid Claire!”
She looks like she’s about to explode. “Do you want to hear this or not? You said you want to know the truth, well, it starts with Claire. And don’t you call her stupid ever again!”
“Fine.”
“Claire and I were together in my room when Gus walked in on us. We were just holding each other.”
I roll my eyes.
“Okay, okay. We were kissing. He—his face turned purple. I thought he was going to have a heart attack. I didn’t know what to say. The three of us stood there, frozen. Then Gus finally caught his breath. He screamed at Claire to get out. Claire started to try to talk and he stepped toward her like he was going to beat her. She fled. Then he turned to me. He looked like—” She covers her eyes and shakes her head.
“What?”
She pulls her hands away and looks down at the bathmat. “Like he was seeing a stranger. A stranger he despised. Before I could even try to explain, his hand shot out and hit me so hard I fell to the floor.”
I try to imagine Gus doing such a thing and can’t. Yes, I saw him slap her that one time. But he would never really hurt her. I know it. “I—I don’t believe you. Gus wouldn’t do that!”
“He said he was glad my mother was dead so she didn’t have to see how sick her daughter was.”
“No,” I say. “He was probably just surprised. He overreacted.”
“He told me that if he ever saw me with Claire again he would pull me out of school and homeschool me. When Claire tried to call, he had our number changed and said if I told her what it was, he’d get a restraining order from the police.”
I shake my head. “This doesn’t sound like Gus.” Not my Gus.
“You asked for the truth.” She plays with her ring again. “Look, I know it’s probably hard for you to accept. I watched him raise you like he raised me. He took care of me just the way he cared for you when you were little. Sometimes I’d see how loving he was with you and I’d think maybe I imagined the whole thing. But I didn’t, Bean. I didn’t.”
“No,” I say again. “Not Gus. He would never hit anyone.” I think of the spiders he saved. The gentle way he tended the tomato plants. How could those hands hurt anyone?
“We’re talking in circles, Bean. I don’t know how else to convince you.”
“Okay, fine. But even if Gus did do all those things. That still doesn’t explain Bill.”
She turns away from me. “Bill was just revenge. He was a regular at the restaurant and I knew he liked me. One night I agreed to meet him after work. We started kissing and—things got out of control. I was fifteen. I didn’t know how to say no. I didn’t know I could say no. Gus never taught me anything. I didn’t have anyone to teach me what to do. How to stay safe.”
“So, my dad raped you?”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it? That’s what you told Gus, right?”
“How did you—?”
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
She shakes her head. “Beany, don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what?”
“This.”
“I deserve to know the truth about my father!”
“He didn’t rape me. I let it happen.” She isn’t looking at me. She’s fixated on the flowery pattern of the shower curtain. “The whole time, I kept thinking, Are you happy now, Dad? Is this what you wanted?”
A tear slips down her cheek, followed by another. She shakes her head and wipes it away.
I look down at her recently pedicured toenails. They’re painted the same color as her hair. Her feet are tan and would be pretty if it weren’t for the bunions she got from having a horrible job that kept her on her feet all day.
“The worst part is,” she says more quietly, “I kept going back for more. I don’t know who I was punishing more, me or Gus. He wanted me to be straight so badly, well, I sure was! After I was with Bill, I’d go home and Gus would be sitting in that damn chair looking at me like I was trash, like he knew what I’d just been doing. I’d smile at him and think, Is this what you wanted, you bastard?
“Bill would meet me after work. We hardly talked. Just got right to business. I hated it, but each time, I felt like I was getting my revenge. I blocked out Claire. All I felt was hate. Hate for Gus and hate for myself. But then, everything changed.”
