You came out to your Mom just over two years ago. The summer after sophomore year of high school, you were pretty sure you liked girls, so you told your mom. Your mom looks very much like you: curly brown hair that’s so unruly it can only be worn in a pony tail (even then, you still have fuzzy patches around your temples); tall (she’s 5’9” and you’re 5’11”), pale skin. You once saw a picture of her from high school and neither of you could figure out whether it was you or her until you saw that it said “Graduation 1979” on the back.
Dad and Alex, your older brother by three years, were at the movies one rainy day. Alex was home for the weekend from film school. Whenever he came home, he and your dad went to the movies (even though your Dad didn’t understand most of the movies Alex took him to).
The power had gone out and you were sitting in the living room without talking to Mom. The sun was setting and the room was filling with darkness. Your whole being was shaking as you were laying on the couch, looking at the blank TV and wishing you didn’t have to tell her what you had to tell her.
It had all began with a stupid question you asked yourself one day. Sitting on the bleachers during basketball practice, you wondered: “What if I had a crush on Kallie?” You had never had a real crush on a girl before, but it was a fun question to ask. What if you did have a crush on her? What if she lingered in the locker room after practice one day and you walked in on her? What if she gave you a look, a coy smile maybe? And, then what if you slammed her against a locker and started to kiss her?
Crap, you had a crush. It started as a stupid wondering and then it became real. Before that thought, you went to sleep thinking about basketball games -- past and future. After that stupid wondering, every night, you went to sleep playing out different versions of what would happen if Kallie lingered after practice. Or, you’d thinking about what would happen if she drove you home from practice. Maybe she’d drive past your house “by accident” to spend more time with you.
So, it was confirmed. You definitely liked at least one girl and you definitely thought about this one girl more than you ever thought about any boy crush you had had before. Sure, you have small handwriting because your fifth grade boy crush wrote so small you could barely see it. And, sure, you chew your pens because your 7th grade boy crush chewed his. You never thought about holding their hands while walking down the halls, though.
Moms are told important things and this felt like something important.
“Mom, what would you say if I told you I was shaking?” you said.
“I would say that the storm is going to end soon and the power will come back on. I know you’re scared of storms, but this is just rain.” Back in elementary school, you saw a terrifying video that has stuck with you. It was about what happens when your house catches on fire and you’ve been scared of natural disasters ever since. Most kids like snow days, because it means time off from school. For you, snow days make you worry whether the roof will cave in.
“I’m not shaking because of the storm. I have to tell you something.” The shaking got worse, but it was dark in the room and Mom couldn’t see.
“What is it, honey?” she said.
You didn’t have to tell her. You could have made anything up. You could have talked about anything else. It didn’t need to be then.
“Nothing, whatever. Forget about it.”
“You can’t tell me you’re shaking and that you have something to tell me and then say nothing. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
Crap. Stuck. Must say something, but what? “I don’t know …”
“I quit drinking this morning, so unless you want me to have a drink right now, you will tell me what is on your mind.”
Big pause.
Still pausing.
“I think I like girls.”
Really, really long pause.
“What makes you think that?” she said.
“Um, I guess, it’s just that I feel differently when I think about boys and when I think about girls.” Telling her did nothing to stop your shaking. Scariest moment of your life. That was probably as scary as having your house on fire.
“Okay, but you’ve never dated a boy. How would you know that you like girls if you’ve never dated boys?” Maybe she’s not so crazy after all. You didn’t expect that kind of logic from her.
“I just do. I think I might be gay.” Phew. You said it. Done. You came out and you will either get kicked out or not.
The rain was still coming down and your world felt like it could, too. Mom sat there, saying nothing. You sat there, hearing her quietly breathing, wondering so much what she was thinking. You breathe in deeply, you breathe out deeply.
“Mom? Do you have anything to say?”
“Let me think about this for a while. I will always love you, but I need to think about this for a while.”
You have had a whole year to think about whether or not you liked girls in the way that most girls like boys. Falling in love with that stupid girl from your basketball team. Your mom deserves at least an hour or so to think it over. “Okay, mom. I’m going to go into my room and read for a while. I love you, too.”
While in your bedroom, you think about Kallie and how she broke your heart one cold February. It was Friday night when she chatted with you online. Apparently some friend of hers had told her she “seemed like she could be bi”. Chills ran through you as you talked.
Kallie: Do you think I seem bi?
You: Um, I guess I could see that. You play basketball and you have a lot of guy friends.
Kallie: So? All of our team plays basketball. Do you think they’re all gay?
You: No, I guess. I don’t know, you just seem gay. Have you ever thought about it?
Kallie: I guess I’ve thought about it.
… a few minutes go by …
Kallie: Hello?
You: Sorry, I stepped away for a minute. So, you’ve thought about it. How do you figure out if it’s true?
Kallie: I don’t know.
… more minutes …
Kallie: Have you ever thought about if you could be bi?
You: I guess. I wonder sometimes.
Kallie: Maybe we could hang out after practice tomorrow and talk about it?
Later that night, Kallie called you and told you she couldn’t hang out after practice. A few weeks later, she told you she had been joking about the whole thing. Of course, you told her, you had been, too. The damage was done, though. You know for certain after this that you definitely like girls. You might like boys, too, but you definitely like girls.
Story continues with One.
