See Dot Smile

Confessional

"So, how does this work?" Bud asks from behind the wall of khaki pants between us. "I tell you all the bad stuff I've ever done, and you absolve me?"

"It's not that kind of confessional," I say. "And what bad stuff have you ever done?"

"You'll never know. It's not that kind of confessional," he teases.

After two sleepless nights worrying about Bud's future in love, I decide I can't put off the discussion any longer. I considered inviting him to church where we could hold the confessional in the choir closet, but I know he would have felt strange about trespassing on hallowed Joshua ground, so I suggested we hold the event in his massive walk-in closet.

"It's just a chance for us to talk. About anything," I say through the pants curtain. "Full truth. No shame. Ask what you want. Tell what you want. This is a safe space."

"Can we hold hands?" he asks. I spy his fingers creeping along the floor toward me. It makes me smile.

"Good question." Joshua and I were terrified to touch each other when we were growing up, even when we weren't in the sanctum of the choir closet confessional. "It might get awkward or embarrassing," I say, "so it depends whether holding hands would make that easier or harder."

"Why are we doing this again? When we could just as easily not be doing it."

"I need to talk to you," I say. "This is easier for me."

"Oh, well as long as it's easier for you, that's all that matters."

I laugh and take his hand, lacing our fingers together and giving a squeeze. We're definitely holding hands for this.

"Let's ask some easy warm-up questions," I say. "Then we can get into it. We'll take turns. But the rules say, if there's a long pause or silence you can fill, go ahead. No moving the curtain. And no leaving until we're both finished."

"Got it."

"When is your birthday?"

Long pause.

"That's supposed to be the easy warm up question," I say.

"I know," he says. "Pick a different one."

"No. Just answer it. It's the rules."

"Are you making these up as you go along?"

"Birthday, Bud."

He sighs for twenty seconds before he answers. "May tenth."

"Oh my God, Bud. That's next week."

"Yup. My turn. Who's the first person you ever kissed?"

"Tom."

"Awesome. Did he know he was gay at the time, or did you help him figure that out?"

"Ha ha. And you already asked your question, so I don't have to answer the second one."

He blows a raspberry through the partition. "Fine."

"Do you masturbate?" I ask.

"Jesus!" He laughs. "Is that supposed to be a warmup question?"

"No. We're passed that."

"Uh..."

"No shame, Bud. It's the rules."

"Okay. Yes," he says. "But I don't do it the way you do."

"What do you mean?" I know what he means. Nobody does it like I do.

"Rules, Dot. It's my turn."

I roll my eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have been such a hard ass about the rules.