Phoebe Berman's Gonna Lose It(45)

“Oh yes, of course.” She turns to me. “Our Peebeeeeee. Are you finally seeing someone? Who’s the lucky girl?”

I don’t remember when exactly it was that Aunt Carol decided I was a lesbian. I’ve tried to tell her that the reason I don’t date is because I’m anxious; it has nothing to do with my sexuality. But she insists the only reason I’m anxious about dating is because I’m gay. There’s no point in arguing.

“Phoebe’s not a lesbian, Carol.” Mom rolls her eyes.

“But it’d be fine if she was!” Ethan shouts from across the table. Dad gives him a thumbs-up.

“Of course she is.” Aunt Carol shoos Mom away with her napkin. “And I imagine it’s very hurtful for your gay daughter to hear you say that.”

“Carol…” Dad starts.

“Actually…” This comes out louder than I intend, and I now have the attention of everyone on my side of the table. “I sort of have something happening with a guy back in LA.”

Aunt Carol claps her hands in amusement, and then turns to my parents. “A bisexual! How wonderful.”

“His name is Finn.” I keep talking, mostly in an effort to silence Aunt Carol but also because it feels good to finally have something to add to the love-life conversation. “And he’s the new fourth-grade teacher at work.”

“Phoebe!” My mother literally clutches her pearls. “This is fantastic. Tell us everything.”

I place a hand on Dad’s shoulder as I hear him begin to sniffle again.

“Well, I guess we’ve been flirting at work for the past week and then we met at Jeffery’s on Monday and—”

“You didn’t tell me any of this!” Jamie screeches. “Was it a date?”

“Uh, I—”

“How does Jonathan feel about this?” My father looks deeply concerned.

“He feels fine. Because we’re just friends,” I tell him, even though it might be a lie. I’m still confused about Jonathan’s feelings.

“Are you and Finn going to go out again?” Jamie grins beside me.

“Where’s he from? Where did he go to school? How old is he?” my mom chimes in.

“Uh—uh,” I stutter, realizing I don’t know the answers to a single one of those questions. I have no idea where Finn is from. Or where he went to school. I don’t even know if he’s younger or older than me.

“He lives in LA. Close by.” I offer them the only piece of information I have. “And I think he likes soccer.”

Why did I think this was anything worth bringing up? I’m shocked by how little I actually know about Finn. I have nothing to tell my family.

The reality of the situation strikes me like a bolt of lightning: my baby sister is about to get married and I just formally announced to my family that I may have flirted with a man last week. Every shred of hope I’ve clung to, all the progress I thought I’d made, threatens to crumble at this moment.

“Sweetheart.” Aunt Carol puts a hand on my shoulder. Her long acrylic nails pierce my flesh. “You don’t have to pretend for their benefit.” My fingers curl into fists, my sharp nails impaling the soft skin of my palms.

Suddenly, I’m angry. It’s not that I care if people think I’m gay. God knows I’ve wondered the same thing about myself on countless occasions. I’ve even brought it up to Sandy. It would explain a lot, after all. But the thing is…I’m just not. And Aunt Carol’s insistence that I must be, despite me opening up to her about my anxiety, makes me feel dismissed.

“I’m not gay,” I snap. Aunt Carol startles slightly at the edge in my voice. “I’m anxious. My lack of dating experience has nothing to do with my sexuality. I’ve told you that. More than once. And the fact that you keep insisting I must be a lesbian…it makes me feel bad, Aunt Carol. It makes me feel like my anxiety isn’t a valid enough explanation for you. Like something as trivial as anxiety couldn’t possibly be enough of a reason for my being single. But it’s very real to me. And it’s been really hard. I’ve been dealing with it for most of my life. And I think…” I reflect back on the past few weeks, and the progress I’ve made with my list. “I think I’m doing a pretty okay job learning how to manage it.”

Mom smiles smugly, nodding at me in approval.

Aunt Carol turns to Dad, muttering something under her breath about internalized homophobia. She picks up her wineglass and, without a word, begins dragging her chair back to her table.

“Well said, Pheebs.” Dad clinks his glass against my own.

“You did it!” Jamie throws her arms around my shoulders, loudly whispering, “She’s gone!”

Successfully exiled Aunt Carol from the family table.

My twentieth accomplishment.





13


Friday

(Nineteen Days Left)

“It was a rainy May afternoon when Jamie mentioned Ethan to me for the first time. I had just picked her up from eighth-grade track practice, and she looked completely defeated as she slid into the passenger seat of my car, muddying the carpet with her dirty sneakers. I specifically remember trying my best not to chastise her about the mess, because poor Jamie looked like she was on the verge of tears. ‘I’m worried the new kid is going to cost us the four-hundred-meter relay. His legs are too short,’ she said.”