For a minute, it’s actually nice.
Nadine, Donovan, Kenzi, and I chat. Kenzi has her head on my thigh, like a cat. Even now and then, Donovan catches my eyes. Our, uh, thing upstairs might’ve satisfied me for the moment, but it’s also ignited a new desire in me, and every time he makes eye contact, it’s hard not to clear the distance and put my mouth on his.
But soon enough, my parents come out, and any want for Donovan goes immediately on mute in this presence. It’s replaced by this wall—a feeling of being on guard.
Everyone—including my parents—is a little tipsy, which means it’s the time of night when my dad regales everyone with his work stories. HIPAA be damned.
“Oh, Leonard.” My mom pets my father’s chest. “Tell them the story about your special summer patient.”
He chuckles. “I’m sure they don’t want to hear about it.”
“I do!” Kenzi says too enthusiastically.
The corners of my father’s mouth lift. “Alright. He was in the oncology wing. He’s a transvestite, so he wants me to call him she.”
My blood starts to hum. “Trans,” I say. “You can just say she’s trans. Transvestite isn’t a word used anymore.”
He lets out an impatient breath. “Anyway—we have this sort of terse back-and-forth about pronouns, of all things. Finally, I turn to him and say, Well, ma’am, I’ve got bad news about your testicles.”
For some reason, this makes both my parents laugh. I feel like someone has stuck a wire underneath my skin and touched it to an open socket.
My mother sighs. “The gays are just so PC about everything.” Her eyes flicker upward, and she remembers her company for a moment because she says, “No offense, Donovan.”
Donovan shrugs. “None taken.” To his credit, he does look calm about the whole thing. Blasé bastard.
I can’t let this go. “Hold on—yes,” I snap. “Offense is taken. Mom. You can’t say things like that.”
She knits her eyebrows at me. “Why not?”
“How would you feel if I called you a man? In the middle of a cancer diagnosis?”
My father puts his hand on her knee protectively. She makes a vague motion with her glass of wine. “Oh, does it matter? Donovan just said he doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t,” Donovan said.
“Okay—but did you stop to think that maybe Donovan isn’t the only queer person here?”
My mother blinks at that. Then she turns and stares for a long, hard time at Kenzi. Her mouth opens, and she lets out a small “Oh.”
Kenzi puts her hand on her chest. “What, me? Oh, no, I’m not—um—well, I mean, with the right person, maybe I’d think about switching teams, you know? Never leave doors closed, I say…”
“It’s me,” I blurt out. My blood is hot, my temper has flared, and I’m in The Zone. I’m seeing red, and I can’t stop the words from flying out of me. “I’m bisexual. And I’m dating Kenzi and Donovan. Does anyone have a problem with that?”
For once, everyone goes silent. I can feel my father’s stare, his glare like a shot from a nail gun. My mother opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. A fish on dry land.
“Well…no,” she says finally. “Of course not, darling.”
My father shifts in his spot, and his chair scrapes across the concrete. I can hear the soft lapping of water on the lip of the pool. If Nadine is surprised, she doesn’t show it; she glances down at her phone, checking the time.
Kenzi claps her hands together loudly. “What do we have for dessert?”
