by Mason Deaver
“It gets all matted and tangled though.” Mom reaches across the table, but I lean back, avoiding her perfectly manicured nails.
“Let’s get to the point,” I say. “You two wanted to talk, right? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“Well, not if you’re going to have an attitude,” Dad mutters in that kind of way so he knows I’ll hear it.
“I don’t have an attitude.” I cross my arms. “What did you two want to discuss?”
“How are you doing?” Mom asks.
“Fine.”
“How is your sister?”
“She’s fine.” Not that either of them actually care. “She and Thomas have been really good to me.”
I see a bit of pain flash over both of their faces, that little bit of guilt, as if they forgot they’d kicked me out. I hate that I feel a little proud of the moment, that it’s my turn to hurt them.
“And school?” Dad asks. “You’re keeping your grades up, right? Your exams must be coming up soon.”
“Yeah, but I’m passing all my classes.” I sink back into my chair, guilt creeping up my spine.
“That’s great!” Mom smiles a bit too widely, then she reaches into her purse. “You know we got a few replies back, from schools.” She slides the thick bundle of envelopes over to me. Some of them are open, some aren’t. “You got into State, but UNC said no.”
“Huh.” I flip through them, staring at the names of the schools and the envelopes decorated with their colors. “That’s fine. I’m not going to college anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Dad asks. “Of course you’re going to school.”
“I don’t want to.” I slide the letters back to Mom.
“Is it because of Hannah? We can afford to send you to school, you don’t have to rely on your sister anymore,” Dad says, almost like he’s proud of himself.
“Actually, Hannah and I have already had that talk, and she told me it wouldn’t be any trouble. I just don’t want to go.”
“Ben—” Mom starts to say, but Dad puts a hand on her arm and that stops her.
“We’ll discuss that later,” he says.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask again. “Stop avoiding the question.”
“Well.” Mom presses her hands together. “We wanted to talk with you more about this whole ‘being nonbinary’ thing.”
It’s awfully strange hearing my mother actually say the word “nonbinary” aloud. It doesn’t really belong, like it’s the kind of word you’d never expect someone like her to know. “Okay.” I lean forward a little. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
“We, um … We’re just confused.” Mom tries to relax. “So, we tried to find things online, and that didn’t really help us.”
“And?” I look at the two of them.
“Honey.” Mom sighs. “We tried, we really did. We’re still trying to wrap our heads around it.”
“It’s not exactly theoretical physics,” I say. “I don’t identify as male or female, I fall outside the gender binary. I use they/them pronouns.” I keep my voice low so Nathan won’t hear me. I doubt he could anyway, all the way across the restaurant, but you never know.
“Well, son, you have to admit that it’s all very strange,” Dad says. I can’t tell if the “son” is deliberate or not.
“I’m not your ‘son,’” I say. “And what’s so strange about it? This is just who I am. Why can’t you two understand that?”
“Are you sure you aren’t just confused?” Dad asks. “Maybe you’re just gay or something and this has just been a difficult time for you?”
Dad makes “gay” sound like an insult.
“Being gay and being nonbinary are two different things!” I should know; I spent enough time having to tell myself that.
Mom looks taken aback for a second.
And Dad looks furious. Always the dramatic one. “Benjamin De Backer, don’t you take that tone with us, we’re your parents.”
“Well, how am I supposed to sound? You two are sitting here insulting me.”
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose and waves his hand around. “Okay, let’s start over.”
“Tell me one thing, what was the goal here? Why did you two want to talk after what happened?”
“We wanted to apologize,” Mom says.
“Well, you’re doing a bang-up job,” I say.
Dad rolls his eyes. “We want you to come home.”
I freeze. “What?”
“We want you to come back home,” Mom repeats, and it’s obvious she seems happier about it than Dad does. “Obviously it’d be hard with school ending, and we’re willing to wait until you graduate. Maybe make the transition a little easier.”
That makes me laugh, but they both stare at me.
“I don’t think it’s very funny,” Dad adds.
I breathe in and out slowly. I never pictured my parents as queerphobic assholes. But maybe that’s my fault for assuming the best of them.
“We miss you. We want to be a family again.” Mom looks at me, those eyes.
I think about their words, repeating them to myself over and over again in my head. They want me back? They want to be a family again?
“Ben, you have to understand how hard this has been on the both of us.” Mom looks like she actually might cry.
“What?” One step forward, a hundred steps back. “You kick me out of the house, and it’s been hard on the both of you?” I make sure I’m talking loud enough so that the people at the next table over are staring. “Do you know how you two sound right now?”
“Benjamin.” Dad looks around; he must realize what I’m trying to do. “Lower your voice.”
“Listen.” Mom sticks up a hand. “We’re still learning here. We made mistakes and we want to work to correct them. We’ve changed, we started seeing a counselor, and we’re working through some things. It was a difficult time. For all of us.”
“You two hurt me,” I spit. “Do you … Do you even realize the shit you put me through? Not just kicking me out, but the months of therapy I’ve had to go through to get past everything?” It’s slowly dawning on me that Dr. Taylor was right, and that I really should’ve listened to her.
“Honey.” Mom puts her hand on top of mine, and I don’t think about pulling away before it’s too late. Her skin on mine, the warmth of it, it’s too familiar and too strange at the same time. I try to suppress the rise in my stomach. “We’re so, so sorry for everything, and we just want to make it up to you.”
“You’ll come home after you graduate,” Dad says, and I notice it’s more of a command than a request. “We’ll take you to the therapist we’ve been seeing, maybe he can help you work through some of the things you’ve been dealing with. And help you with this nonbinary business.”
I’m going to be sick. “I’ve been seeing Dr. Taylor, I like her.”
“Okay, well …” Mom glances toward Dad. “Maybe we could see her? Together.”
I stare down at her hand, still on top of mine. “I have some things to think about,” I say.
“Of course, just do it quickly.” Dad eyes the menus at the end of the table, stacked neatly on top of one another. “Did you want to order something?”
“No.” I stand up quickly and push my chair under. “I’ll message you when I’m ready to talk.”
“Ben, honey.” Mom makes like she’s going to stand up.
I stop her. “Just let me think, for a few days. Okay?”
She looks back at Dad, and I can tell he isn’t pleased. This isn’t how he wanted this meeting to go.
I’m betting they both wanted the perfect reunion where I’d run into their arms and hug them and agree to go back home with them, leaving behind what short life I’ve built here. Hannah, Thomas, Meleika, Sophie, Dr. Taylor.
Nathan.
I look his way and nod. He’s already up and waiting at the door for me. I guess Mom notices, so she turns in her seat. “Is that a friend of yours?”
“No,” I lie.
“Were you that scared, son?” Dad asks, almost like a joke. Except I’m not laughing.
“I’ll see you two later.” I keep myself from running toward Nathan and out to his car.
“Well, hold on.” Mom grabs her purse and starts following me. “I’d like to meet this boy.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
But it’s already too late. Mom manages to get ahead of me, stopping Nathan right at the door. “Hello there!” She sticks out a hand. “I’m Brenda De Backer, Ben’s mother.”
Nathan grins, eyes bright as he shakes her hand. “I’m Nathan.”
“Are you a friend of Ben’s?”
Nathan looks to me for approval, but what else can we really do? Pretend my mother’s shaking hands with a person I don’t know? I’m not going to lie, that would be kind of funny, but there’s really no use. I give Nathan a little nod.
“Yeah, we go to North Wake together. He asked me for a ride.”
Mom gives me a look. “Well, isn’t that nice? We were just meeting to talk about some things.”
“Are you ready to go, Nathan?” I ask. I need to get the hell out of here.
“Yeah.” Nathan digs around in his pocket. “I’m sorry, Mrs. De Backer, but we’re meeting some friends downtown, and we’re already pretty late,” he lies.
Bless Nathan Allan.
“Oh, well.” Mom’s still all smiles. “We’ll talk soon, Ben.” I nod, and Mom looks back at Nathan. “It was so nice to meet you. I’m glad Ben’s found friends.”
“Nice to meet you too, ma’am.” Nathan holds the door open for me, and we race toward his car, not looking back.
“Roof?” Nathan asks. We’ve been sitting in his driveway for a while now, no music, no talking. He turned the car off at first, but after a few seconds of just sitting there, he rolled down the windows to let in the cool night air.
Eventually I glance over at him. “Sure.”
Ryder gives me a hug, and I rub him behind the ears, but I don’t have much in me now. It’s like I’m running on empty. I feel exhausted, even though all we did was talk.
Nathan opens the window and helps me out this time, taking my hand and pulling me through the gap. At least this time, with better-fitting pants, I don’t almost fall to my death.
It’s actually breezy for April, but the sun is shining, so it’s more than enough to keep warm.
“So,” Nathan says, making his way to our normal spot. “She seemed nice, your mom.”
“Hmm.” I sit down next to him. I’d be shocked, but that’s the normal reaction when it comes to Mom and Dad. They put on that mask for strangers or family friends. Slipping in a backhanded comment about me here or there.
“What did they say to you?” he asks.
“They wanted me to come home.” Even to me, my voice sounds empty.
“Wow.” Nathan runs a hand along the top of his hair. “That’s …”
“Yeah.”
“Fucked up.” Nathan pulls his knees in close.
I look down at his hand, settled so close to mine, and I can’t resist. My own hand settles around his. That warmth, it’s so much different from Mom’s. I want this kind. I feel like I need it. To ground me if nothing else. I feel the dry skin of his palm; and, still looking forward, Nathan wraps his fingers around mine. The rest of the skin I trace with my thumb is smooth, and for a half a second, I wonder if this is how he feels all over.
“Thank you, for going with me. I know it wasn’t really fair …”
“I didn’t mind,” he says.
“I don’t want you to have to be my protector. That’s not fair to you.”
He does that thing, that laugh that sort of sounds like a scoff. “You worry a lot.”
“And you’re a quick liar,” I say.
“When I saw that look on your face … When your mom realized you were with me.” He stops, like he’s trying to think of just the right words. “I knew that feeling.”
“Really?”
He nods. “That helplessness, right?”
“Thank you. I …” I start to say. It feels like a perfect moment. My second chance. I flubbed the night of the movie, but maybe now’s the time. Except I’m too much of a coward. “There’s something I need to show you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It’s a painting,” I say, reaching into my pocket to grab my phone. “It’s, um … Well, it’s a bit weird.”
“You know you are really terrible at giving people bad news?” he says.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not bad or anything.” I pull up the photo of the painting. “At least, I don’t think it is. But it’s your call to make. It’s a painting of you.”
Nathan pauses, glancing between me and the phone still in my hand. “You painted me?” he asks.
I nod.
“Please tell me you didn’t find a way to paint me nude.”
“What?” I sputter. “No!”
“Okay, because you’re great, Ben, but that may or may not be a deal breaker.”
“How would that not be a deal breaker?”
“Depends on how you capture my curves and finesse.” He winks at me.
I turn off my phone and slide it back into my pocket. “Okay, never mind. Let the suspense kill you.”
“No, wait.” He reaches for my hand again. “Come on, I was just teasing.”
I point a finger at him. “No jokes, okay?”
“I promise.” He sticks out his hand again. “Pinky promise.”
I grab my phone again, and the picture of the painting is the first thing that comes up. I brace myself and hand it over to him. He doesn’t react at first, then slowly but surely, his mouth spreads into that all-too-familiar grin that I think I’ve fallen in love with.
I never want him to stop smiling.
“Ben …” he starts, but his voice fades off again.
“It sort of happened, and I know it seems creepy or whatever, so if you want to hate me you can, but yeah. I just used a few of the selfies you took on my phone.” I’m talking so fast that it jumbles together, and I don’t think he really understands me. “I had to change some things, pull from other pictures.”
“Ben.” He grabs my arm, and that shuts me up. “I love it.”
“Really?”
“I’m so yellow.” He laughs. “It might be my favorite.”
“You’re just saying that because it’s your portrait.”
“I mean you have to admit I make a good model.” He won’t stop staring at the picture. “I can’t wait to see the real thing. Is it going to be in the show?”
“I still don’t know if I’m doing it.”
“Oh, come on, Ben. You have to.”
“It’s just … I don’t know.”
“Are you scared people won’t like your work?” he asks.
“A little, I guess.” It just feels like I’m opening myself back up. I’ve never really felt that urge to share my art with people, at least people I’m not close with. It’s always been this private deal, something with myself and a select few.
“Ben.” I feel his hand again, right on top of mine. “I really think you should do it.”
“Easy for you to say.” The warmth of his skin spreads along mine. I swear, this dude’s like an electric blanket or something. “I want to do it,” I say.
“So you should.”
“I’m just scared.”
Nathan chuckles. “That’s probably a normal response. To be honest, if you totally expected everyone to love everything you make, you’d probably be some super pretentious art douche.”
“I’ll have to borrow your turtlenecks and hipster glasses.”
“Pssh. Like I’d ever give those up. You can have my coffee though.” He starts to laugh again. “Can’t believe I’m gonna be in an art show.” He finally hands my phone back to me.
“Might be,” I correct. “Sorry for not asking permission or anything.”
“Well, this is me giving my blessing for you to p
ut it in the show.” He runs a hand along the top of his hair. “It’s fantastic. Thank you, Ben.”
“You’re welcome.” I’m trying not to blush, but I can feel my face going hot despite the chill of the air.
At first, I don’t even hear the car pulling into the driveway, but Nathan perks up, and there’s the distinct sound of car doors closing. “My parents are home.”
“Oh.” I glance around, as if they’d somehow magically appear on the roof.
“Do you want to meet them?”
I shrug. “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Nathan stands up and peers over the edge of the roof into the backyard. “That’s a hefty drop, so … I’m thinking no.” Nathan offers me his hand again and helps me stand up. “They’re cool, I swear.”
“Okay.”
This isn’t really how I was planning on meeting Nathan’s parents. I’d imagined about a dozen different awkward encounters where I’d either call them by the wrong name, or not say my own right, or call them Mom and Dad by accident.
We walk back across the roof to his room. I almost fall again when I try to step through. At least this time the chances of falling tragically to my death are minimal. But Nathan catches me in his arms.
He’s really warm, and for a split second I can smell his sort of terrible cologne and his deodorant. I think that’s lime. It probably shouldn’t make for a good combination, but right now, it smells so good.
Oh, shit.
“Thank you.” I try to smile off everything and pull myself as far as I can.
“No problem.” He lets go of me slowly, his hands lingering just a little too long. No, wait. Stop, I’m being creepy again. “Hey, what if you stayed for dinner?”
“Um, sure. I don’t think Hannah would mind.”
“Nathan?” a voice shouts from below. “You home?”
“Yeah, be down in a second!” Nathan yells back, then he looks at me, holding out his hand. “Ready to go?”
I take it, slowly, and let him lead me out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
“So you’re Ben.” Nathan’s mother takes my hand, shaking it quickly. “I’m Joyce, and this is my husband, Robert. It’s nice to finally meet you. Nathan speaks very highly.” She winks, and I don’t know what that’s supposed to imply, but I don’t question it.