“It wasn’t the right fit for me anymore. Like a jacket I outgrew.”
“Do you think you wouldn’t be dying if you stayed?”
Everyone shouts, “Dahlia!”
“Dahl, that’s so rude,” Dalma says.
Dahlia shrugs so big it seems exaggerated. “I’m just asking a question!”
I want to ease the tension.
“It’s a great question. I’ve wondered if Death-Cast would’ve called if I’d never left home. But I’m choosing to believe that staying in Arizona would’ve ruined my soul and that the one day I’ve had in the city is the most I’ve lived in a long time.” I tell the family about how I’ve been spending my End Day. How the rejection at the modeling agency led to us buying a camera at a pawnshop and going on a journey of firsts. All the pictures we’ve taken for my sister and Orion to remember me by. Walking the High Line. Visiting the World Trade Center’s memorial site. Being blindfolded and taken past the secret subway station. The journey across the Brooklyn Bridge. Our performances on the train. Returning to Times Square for a first date that got interrupted. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve done so much in one day.” I slide my fingers through Orion’s and lock them together, knowing that the family sitting at this table will only look at us with pride and not judgment. “If I stayed in Arizona, I wouldn’t have met my first boyfriend.”
Orion’s eyes widen and he smiles. “Boyfriend?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“Hell yeah, boyfriend.”
We kiss.
Dahlia whispers, “But they just met!” and Dalma whispers back, “Shut up!” and Orion and I break our kiss, laughing along with everyone else.
Together, Orion and I share more intimate details about my End Day and how we’ve navigated what was safe to do and what was worth a little risk. Dahlia wants to know how bad Orion’s dancing was on the train; we let the tips between our performances speak for themselves. Dalma thanks me for keeping Orion company at the World Trade Center site. Orion tries talking about it, but he doesn’t get much out. Dayana comes to the rescue with stories about growing up with Magdalena while Floyd talks about the epic World Series parties that Ernesto would host whenever the Yankees were playing.
“I’m sorry to hear about Scarlett,” Dalma says. “Any chance she’ll make it out?”
“I’m not counting on it,” I painfully admit. Today is about acceptance. Orion has encouraged me to control what I can and accept what I can’t. “I’m having a really lovely time with you, but would you mind if I actually called Scarlett? I’m feeling really inspired to set some things straight with my family after being welcomed by yours.”
“Do you mean . . . ?” Orion asks.
“Yes.”
I’m going to call my parents and tell them it’s my End Day.
4:36 p.m.
Coming out as gay was one thing. Coming out as a Decker is another.
I came out as gay to Scarlett our first moment alone while she was recovering at the hospital. “I love you, Val” was all Scarlett said out loud, and her knowing gaze said everything else. I’d wanted to come out to my parents that afternoon too, but they spent so much time praying at my sister’s bedside that I knew I should wait. A couple days after Scarlett was home, I knew I had to make my move so I could get everyone to adjust to our new normal instead of returning to our old normal, where I had to be closeted. I sat my parents down in the living room and came right out with false confidence. It was tricky to tell if they already knew. I had thought about all the times my father would say “He’s a queer” as an insult or how my mother suspected any single older man must be gay if they weren’t married with children. There weren’t any knowing gazes from my parents like there were with my sister. But there were lectures—lots and lots of lectures with the headline being that I’m doomed to damnation if I choose sinning over Christ.