Bryson leads me to the Jeep and then we’re on our way. We reach home too fast. I sit unmoving and stare at my house. Both Mom’s and Dad’s cars are in the driveway, which means everyone is home. It’s Sunday evening, so of course that’s the case. Belatedly, I wonder if they went to church as they normally do. Did they go and try to pray the gay away?
Bryson lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I wish there was more I could do,” he says. There isn’t. It’s now or never. I reach for the door handle.
“Call me if you need me,” Bryson says as I open the door.
“Will do.”
I climb out of the Jeep and step firmly into reality.
“Thanks for today,” I say. “And for last night.”
“Anytime,” Bryson says. And I can tell that he means it. He will be there if I call, when I call. I don’t have a Prince Charming on a white horse. Instead, I have one in a white Jeep.
I stop before the front door and turn to look back. Bryson is still there. Somehow this feels a little easier knowing that I have him. I’m not completely alone.
I wave, and he waves back. Then I turn to face the door that I’ve never before dreaded entering like I do now.
I close my eyes and turn the handle.
I step inside and shut the door behind me.
28
“I’m home,” I announce to no one in particular. I figure it’s the right thing to do. Despite everything, they are my parents, and I hope that they will always love me. That they will always care about my safety.
I pause to take off my shoes. Yazz runs down the stairs and barrels into me. I barely manage to keep us both upright.
“If you ever make me worry like that again, I’ll kill you myself,” Yazz says. She pulls back to study me. “I’m too young to get gray hair. Think of my beauty.”
I smile. “Thank you, Yazz.” She nods and lets me go. “Where is everyone?” I whisper.
Yazz shrugs. “This is the quietest our house has ever been.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She’s right, but it still feels that way. I walk up to my bedroom and close my door behind me. I turn on a playlist and hit shuffle. The music blares around me as I sit on my bed. This isn’t what I want. I don’t want my family to be this way just because I’m gay.
I’m not sure how long I sit there and stare blankly ahead, but eventually I get up and change my clothes. My phone lights up with a text. I open the three musketeers group chat.
How is it? Donny asks.
Are you okay? Priya adds.
Yes. It’s scary quiet though.
Should we very naturally come over? Priya asks.
Yeah. It can be totally like, oh hey we wanted to visit. Nice to see you again. Totally normal, Donny adds.
I don’t know if that will make it better or worse, I say.
My phone vibrates with a call. Kelly flashes on-screen. I swipe to answer it.
“Hello.”
“Kai, are you all right?”
“No,” I say. “I’m not.”
“Should I come over?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m in my bedroom.”
“What did your parents say?”
“Nothing. I haven’t seen them.”
Bryson gets quiet. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”
“This is enough,” I say to him. “Can we just stay like this for a while?”
So we stay like that. Not talking. Just listening to each other exist. I let three songs play before I break the silence.
“I’ll call you if anything happens,” I say eventually.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
We hang up. There’s a knock at my door and Yazz pops her head in. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Even if that’s true, you have to do this,” Yazz says. “Never cower in front of the enemy.”
“Enemy? They’re our parents, Yazz.”
“Right now they are the enemy.” Yazz grabs my hand and yanks me from my bed. “You can do this. Say what you need to say. It’s not healthy to keep stuff bottled inside.”
“Are you sure you’re thirteen?”
“Maturity has nothing to do with age.” She pulls me out of my bedroom, toward the bathroom. “Wash your face.”
Yazz waits for me while I follow her instructions. I stare at myself in the mirror. My face looks pale, making the faint bruises stand out, and my eyes look lost. I take a calming breath, but it fails to do anything. Eventually I give up and leave the bathroom behind.
Yazz leads me down the stairs. When I get to the dining room table, Mom and Dad are already seated there. Dad looks up at me and our eyes meet, but I look away. Mom keeps staring at her plate of food. She’s fiddling with her gold cross pendant.
I’m about to turn around and run from the room, but Yazz takes my hand in hers and guides me to a seat. She slides into the seat next to Mom, and I take the one Yazz usually sits in.
“Let’s say grace,” Yazz says. She holds out her hand and I place mine in hers. Yazz glances at our parents. “Well?”
Mom places her hand in Yazz’s and takes Dad’s. He holds out his other hand to me and I take it. Dad squeezes it twice. I look up but find his eyes already closed. I’m pretty sure I imagined it, but then Dad opens his eyes and offers me a small nod.
Yazz starts to lead us in prayer. “Our Father, we have come together to share a meal. Thank you for providing this food and for allowing us to gather as a family. Bless us, O Lord, and bless the hands that prepared this meal….” The prayer starts off the same as the one we say before eating any meal, but soon Yazz alters it to deliver a different message. “And, Father God, help this family now. We stand at a crossroads, and I pray that you guide us to take the right path, heavenly Father. You created Kai in your own image, and only you can judge him, Father God. I ask that you remind everyone of that fact. Heavenly Father, I ask that you show us all that love is love and that a family cannot call itself that when there is hatred and unacceptance,” Yazz says. “And, Father, help Kai say what he needs to say. And help my parents listen to him as he does this very scary and brave thing. I ask this all in the almighty name of Jesus. Amen.”
Yazz opens her eyes and looks around the table. “Let’s eat.”
Misty-eyed, I stare at my sister. I’m not alone in this house. One by one, we all start to eat. The sound of cutlery is all that can be heard. Yazz looks from me to my parents. She sighs. “Kai, there was something you wanted to say?”
I shake my head. Dad stops eating and looks at me. “Say what you need to say, son.”
I meet his gaze and Dad nods. I appreciate his effort.
I clear my throat. This is it. My voice is nothing more than a whisper.
“Mom and Dad, this is the moment I’ve feared since I was ten years old. I was that young when I first started to think I was different from the other boys. It wasn’t because I felt any different, but rather because everyone around me kept insisting that I’d be different if I was gay. That I’d be sinning because of who I am.” My voice gets louder now. I almost sound like myself, except for the tears that I’m trying to blink back. “But I knew that my being gay was unchangeable. It was just like the color of my skin. Something that was a part of me and made me who I am. I’m the same Kai that you know and love. Dad, I’m the son you shoot hoops with and take to the barber to get his hair cut. Mom, I watch those old rom-coms with you and help you solve the crosswords in the newspaper. I’ll always be the Kai Sheridan that you made all those memories with.
“I’m still me. Nothing’s changed. I know that for certain. Yes, I’m gay, but I’m still me. I know what the Bible says, Mom, but I’m asking you to put your faith in me. I�
�m asking you to put your faith in your son. I’m not any different just because society wants me to be. I’m the same. So please, Mom and Dad, love me just like you always have? Please?” My voice breaks on the last word. I look up to find both Mom and Dad blinking back tears.
I’m hopeful. For one solitary heartbeat, I see a light at the end of this dark and lonely tunnel, but then Mom gets up. And without a word, she leaves the table.
Dad reaches for my hand. He looks at me. “I love you, Kai,” Dad says. He gets up and follows Mom. “I’ll talk to her.”
Yazz and I are left staring at each other. She pushes up her glasses. “You did well, Kai. Now it’s on them.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I make to move my plate to the kitchen, but Yazz stops me. “Go. I’ll do this.”
I nod and leave the dining room behind. I head up the stairs, and as I do, I try to choke down the sound of my crying.
I enter my bedroom and fall face-first onto my bed.
I cry myself to sleep.
29
I roll from my bed and flinch. My body is sore, but it feels a lot better since Bryson applied ointment to my wounds. As soon as I open my eyes, I text Bryson.
Bryson being so worried about me only adds to the feelings I’m developing for him. What started as simple like and attraction is growing and changing into something more. It both scares and thrills me.
The three musketeers group chat lights up.
Are you coming to school with Bryson or do you need me to fetch you? Donny asks.
Bryson.
Okay. We’ll see you in the parking lot.
I cross my bedroom and open the door. I peek my head out, but no one is around on the second floor. Down below I hear Mom and Dad clattering. They aren’t speaking, though. It seems that the house is still under a spell of silence.
I dash to the bathroom and take a shower, then brush my teeth and shave. Once I’m back in my bedroom, I start getting dressed. I have time to kill seeing as how I’m actively avoiding the kitchen.
Eventually seven o’ clock comes, and I grab my school things and dash for the door.
“I’m leaving,” I shout, again to no one in particular. I pull the door open to find Bryson standing there. His finger is raised to ring the doorbell.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I close the door behind me.
“I was worried,” Bryson says. He grabs me by the shoulders. “Are you okay? Did anything happen?”
The door swings open and Yazz steps out. She’s dressed for school. Yazz goes to the same public middle school I did, so she doesn’t wear a school uniform. I must be dreaming because never before has Yazz been ready for school so early.
“Hey,” Yazz says. “Could I get a ride to school?”
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Mom usually takes you to school.”
Yazz looks from Bryson to me and stares at his hands on my shoulders.
“I’m protesting,” Yazz says.
“What?”
“I don’t like the bullshit in this house, and I refuse to be a part of it.”
“Language,” I say, but I don’t really mean the reprimand, because my heart is melting.
Bryson holds up a hand and Yazz gives him a high five. “You’re officially my hero, Yasmine,” he tells her.
“It’s Yazz, and I take it that’s a yes to the ride?”
“It’s a yes to whatever you want,” Bryson says. He leaves me standing there and trails after my sister. I blink at the sudden turn of events.
“What are you doing, Kai?” Yazz calls out.
“Yeah, Kai, what are you doing?” Bryson echoes. Bryson helps Yazz into the back seat of the Jeep and then looks at me. He cocks an eyebrow as if to ask, Well?
“Did you tell Mom you were getting a ride to school?” I ask when I’ve climbed into the Jeep, too.
“I left a very angrily worded letter,” Yazz says.
Bryson and I share a look. He can’t fight the smile on his lips, and neither can I.
“Let’s eat,” Bryson says, which earns him a cheer from Yazz. We head to Glenda’s and we both allow Yazz to order whatever she wants.
After breakfast, we drop Yazz off at school before racing toward Fairvale Academy. The unplanned detour has made us later than usual, but neither of us complains. Both of us haven’t stopped smiling.
“Your sister is amazing,” Bryson muses. He grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss there.
“I’ve always said she could rule the world if she wanted to.”
With ten minutes left until the start of the day, we pull into the parking lot. Bryson parks the Jeep and we get out. I spot Shannon standing far from the crowd, at the stairs leading inside. She’s looking down at our cars, at us. It’s surprising that she isn’t waiting for Bryson. Given her actions last week, I assumed she’d be first to ask him out today. Before I can question it further, Priya and Donny rush toward me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Priya asks.
“Jesus. Your face.”
“It looks a lot better than it did,” I say to Donny.
“Hey, Bryson,” Priya says.
Bryson waves. “Hi, Priyanka, Donny.”
“You can call me Priya.”
“What, really?” Bryson smiles. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to talk. See you later, Priya, Donny,” Bryson says. “I’ll see you in drama, Kai.”
Bryson doesn’t get very far, because he’s soon surrounded by girls. We watch as Louise Keaton steps up to Bryson. The look on her face is one of pure determination. “Date me, Bryson Keller!” she says.
Bryson looks from her to me. “Sorry, but I’m already dating someone.”
“What! Who?” Louise asks. She scans the girls at her back, searching for any sign of smugness. When she finds looks of dismay on their faces, she turns to face Bryson.
“I was first,” Louise says. “So whoever asked you out did it before you arrived at school. That isn’t fair.”
Bryson shrugs. “No one’s actually asked me out today.”
“Then what are you talking about?” Louise turns to us. “Kai, do you know what he’s talking about?” It seems the chance to date Bryson Keller is enough to make my ex-girlfriend forget that she vowed never to speak to me again.
“Uh, no.” Maybe someday soon I’ll be able to answer her honestly, but for now I lie.
“So, what’s up?” she asks Bryson.
“Just that the whole dare is over,” Bryson says. “You should tell as many people as you can. I lost. After spring break, I’ll be taking the bus.” He casts a mournful look at his Jeep but smiles when he turns to me.
“Over! What do you mean, over?” Louise asks. Her face is a mask of horror. It’s like she can’t believe this is happening.
All this is giving me a headache. “Let’s head inside,” I tell my friends.
We’re walking toward the school building when Priya suddenly stills. “This bitch.”
Donny and I both stop walking and look at Priya, but her eyes are on her phone. We move to stand at either side of her. Priya has the latest issue of the Fairvale Academy Herald out.
The headline reads Closet Case: What It Means to Be a Gay Teen Now.
“You know nothing,” he said to me once. And through my investigation I realized that his words were true. I do know nothing—about him or the situation he faces. To most of us, coming out is an abstract notion, but to some, it is a life-or-death moment. The thing that defines them. And in high school, where labels run rampant and everyone wants to put everyone else into a box, gay teens are forced to conform to what society deems the norm.
I skim the rest of it, but my eyes snag on the parts toward the end.
Eric Ferguson, founder of Fairvale Academy’s very own LGBTQ club, had this to say when I questioned him about wh
at it means to be gay in this day and age: “That we even still need to come out annoys me—no, it angers me. Straight people don’t have this fear. They’re free to just love and be who they are. We, on the other hand, are forced into the shadows, and when we do step into the light, we’re shunned for doing so. Yes, we have taken great steps, but we still have a far walk to go until we are truly treated as equal.”
I hadn’t thought of this. But Eric’s words are backed up by the fact that the subject of this article has had to hide and keep to the shadows, only truly being himself in a different city, and far away from high school.
Two pictures follow. The first is of me in line for the Graces’ concert. In the background, there’s a group of men being affectionate with one another. They don’t look like strangers; they look like a group I’m a part of. It must have been taken while I was waiting for Bryson. A picture is worth a thousand words, and this one is telling a story of its own.
For those in the closet, it’s all about hiding, it’s all about keeping up the facade that you’re normal….But what does normal even mean? Who decided that? And why are gay teens still forced to keep secrets and live double lives?
The second photo is of me kissing someone who is clearly a boy. It’s the photo that Dustin took, but Bryson’s been blurred out. I’m the only one on show for the world to see.
Whatever relationships develop either have to happen in the spotlight, much like Eric Ferguson said, or have to be kept in the shadows, rendezvous in secluded areas. It’s unfair, and until this article I didn’t realize it was still this bad. I can see now that we still have a long way to go.
“I don’t know, maybe if you looked beyond all that you’d get to know the real me,” he said to me in what sounded like a desperate plea. It was truth so loud that I found that I couldn’t ignore it. So I want you to know that we see you, Kai Sheridan. We support you. Live your truth.
The words start to blur into each other. My face is a flaming mess. The sound of blood gushes in my ears. Everyone in the parking lot turns to stare at me. Then the whispers start.
Date Me, Bryson Keller Page 19
