Bathe in Color

40. Grayson Pierce, Age 17, August 17, 2019

"Grayson Allen Pierce! You have some explaining to do!" My mom shouts when she bursts through the front door, using my full name like Paris did last night. It makes my heart jump at the realization that it is time to tell her and Dad that I am gay.

"Do you realize how upset we were when we found out you left?" My dad screams, slamming the front door behind him.

Suddenly, a horrible knot in my stomach ties all my anxiety up like a rigid ribbon. Naomi must have told them about the letter. She must have outed me.

"No word? No note? Not even a call!" My mom chimes in, less angry than before, yet a scowl remains plastered on her face.

Relief washes over me. Maybe Naomi did not out me.

"It's...it's a long story. I think it would be best if you sat down."

I sound like a shitty doctor about to tell someone their mom just died as I direct my parents to the dinner table.

"I know where the dinner table is," my mom hisses, rolling her eyes with a biting sarcasm that stings my already vulnerable skin. Nevertheless, she reluctantly complies and sits down across from me, my dad sitting down beside her. They both stare at me with expectant looks, eager to hear what I have to say.

If only I was ready for them to hear what I have to say.

"Any day now," my dad mutters, clearly losing his patience.

I anxiously stand up from the dining room table and pace around the kitchen, tapping my fingers against the walls in a futile attempt to calm myself down. I knew this would be difficult, but I am seconds away from breaking into an uncontrollable surge of tears.

I just need to get this out of the way. Here goes nothing.

"I left so abruptly because I read the letter."

"What letter?" They ask simultaneously.

Right. They have no idea about the letter, either. I guess I assumed the worst from Naomi.

"You know how you grabbed the mail before we left? There was a letter addressed to me. Naomi grabbed it and read it before I could. When we got back from shopping, she confessed to stealing it. And so I grabbed it from her and read it and it was from Paris telling me that he was sorry about the fight we had the other day-"

"Wait. You and Paris got into a fight?" My mom inquires. She seems hurt that I did not tell her about the fight, but I could not tell either of my parents about what happened without potentially outing myself. Ironically, I am about to out myself right now, and I may vomit all over the kitchen floor. I need to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Yeah...and the letter was his way of apologizing-"

"So, you couldn't call him over the phone to discuss it?" My dad interrupts.

"Would you let me finish?" I snap, tired of their irate glances and desperate to get this over with.

My parents go silent, their anger turning to concern as they watch me start to cry.

"Paris did more than just apologize. He...he told me he loved me. Like, really loved me. Romeo and Juliet loved me. Jack and Rose loved me. And I realized I love him too."

For a moment, they say nothing.

Finally, as if ending an era of silence, my mom speaks, "But, what about Naomi?"

"I never loved her, never even liked her. I was just trying to convince myself that I wasn't-"

"Don't say it! You're just confused! You don't really feel like that! You can't really feel like that...you've never felt like that before!" My mom shouts, not furious, but confused, maybe furious at herself for never noticing before.