My throat contracts. Dad used to take Cesar and me to the park to feed the ducks when we were little. Canela was the only duck with a ball of fuzz perpetually stuck to her head, so she was our favorite. We “adopted” her and looked for her specifically every time we went to the park. I was there with them, but Dad only wanted to tell Cesar.
The video was sent this morning. Which confirms again that he could have responded to me but didn’t. He could have responded to me a hundred times by now. And he’s talking to Cesar about something I was involved in. I want to throw up.
There’s no avoiding it anymore. My dad, my idol, who was once upon a time the most trusted person in my life, wants nothing to do with me.
It’s such bullshit that there’s a stigma around being closeted. We get shit for “living a lie” just because we want to survive. I don’t want to keep losing everyone I’m close to. I don’t want to get disowned and kicked out of my house. It’s self-preservation, not dishonesty. I don’t owe anyone the truth, and I’ll take my damn time with talking about it. Maybe never a-fucking-gain.
It’s not like I can come out once and be done with it, either. I came out six times already. To Bianca, Cesar, Hunter, Jamal, my dad, and Bo. Maybe Bo doesn’t count, since I don’t think she got the message. But if I’m “living a lie,” then so is every straight person who’s never “come out” to every single person in their life about their sexuality. I shouldn’t have to talk about it if I don’t want to. I don’t want to have to tell everyone. Not after how Dad reacted. Or didn’t.
“You good?” Cesar asks.
I shake my head and wipe my nose.
“You mad at him or something?”
I shake my head again and leave for my room before he sees me cry. Maybe this opening-up thing can wait.
Cesar and I are both quiet during dinner.
“You haven’t mentioned Jamal lately. ?Qué pasó?” Mom asks.
“Um . . .” I glance at Cesar. He stabs his enchilada with his fork and keeps his eyes on his food. He did say I could keep fake-dating him. . . .
“Nothing, we’re fine,” I say. “He’s back in town now.”
“I thought you guys broke up,” Cesar says coldly, and I have to resist rolling my eyes at him—he’s so fickle. He takes another jab at his plate with his fork without putting any food in his mouth. What does he want from me?
Mom almost chokes on her food. “？Por qué?”
“I . . . um . . .” I don’t even know the real reason Cesar and Jamal broke up, so I have no idea what to say. He cheated on me? I cheated on him? I don’t love him anymore? Mom adds some questions of her own.
“Did he hurt you? Did he cheat?” She gasps, “He’s gay, isn’t he? I knew there was something wrong with that boy!” Okay, ouch. I clutch my silverware tighter.
“I hoped I was wrong, but I always suspected it. Such a shame, he was so cute, too. . . .” She tuts disapprovingly, then snaps her fingers like she just solved a mystery. “That’s why he got kicked out of his house, ?qué no? His folks must have found out. That makes more sense.”
“Mom, no . . .” My voice comes out weak, and I hope she thinks it’s because I’m upset about the breakup. Not that she just confirmed being gay was a disownable offense. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Cesar didn’t want to talk about it either, so it’s a realistic reaction.
“I have homework.” Cesar takes his barely touched plate to the sink, where he lets it drop loudly before storming off. I wish I could do the same.
“What’s wrong with him?” Mom doesn’t wait for him to be out of earshot.