The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(25)
“So Bo, I don’t need a ride tomorrow,” Cesar says, still jogging in place.
I cock my head. There’s an art to telepathic communication. Cesar and I are on the same wavelength, so he gets my secret message: huh?
“I got plans.” There’s mischief in his smile as he switches to jumping jacks. Telepathic code for mind your business, Yami, you nosy piece of shit, get your own social life. Or maybe I’m reading into it.
“Okay, cool.” Bo shrugs.
“That reminds me, can I come over after school tomorrow?” Amber asks Bo.
“Sure. You want to come too, Yamilet? I can drop you off at home after. Or the light rail, or wherever.”
“Yes!” I know my answer comes a little fast and I look way too excited, but I don’t care. I’m just excited to be entering friendship level two: hanging out outside of school.
“If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?” I ask my dad in our FaceTime call. We’ve been talking for over an hour now, ever since I got home from school, and I’m not ready to hang up and start filling jewelry orders, so I’ve been asking random questions. I adjust myself so I’m lying sideways on my bed, propping my head up with my fist and holding the phone in front of me.
Dad sighs. Something almost sad flashes across his eyes for a moment. “Of course I’d make the world more immigrant-friendly.”
“Maybe you can one day,” I say, offering a hopeful smile. I used to believe he’d make it home someday and do just that, but I’ve learned my lesson since then. He’s not coming back, and I just have to live with it.
“What about you? What would you change about the world?” he asks, adjusting his work hat.
“Um . . .” I think about telling him I’d rid it of homophobia, racism, and all other forms of bigotry. But I know if I get into that I’ll be tempted to just come out to him, and I don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet. “Female priests?” I really don’t know where that came from. It’s not even something I really care about, but it’s true that I find it unfair that only men can be priests, even if I myself would never want to be one.
Dad chuckles and playfully rolls his eyes. “Okay, Yami.”
I roll mine right back. Even for the activist he is, Papi can be a little old-fashioned about some things. I can’t tell if he rolled his eyes because my thing was so insignificant compared to his, or if he actually thinks the concept is stupid.
“Not that I don’t love talking to you, mija, but I got to get to work.”
I make a pouty face, and he mirrors it. “Fine. Yeah, I should probably get to work, too. Te quiero mucho, papi.”
“Te quiero muchísimo, mijita.” Then he blows me a kiss. The call ends, and I spend the rest of the evening working with my mom, wishing she cared enough to talk to me the way Dad does.
The next day goes by too slowly. I want school to be over so I can hang out with my soon-to-be level-two friends. Is it sad to be this excited to go to someone’s house? I chalk it up to being deprived of social interaction outside school, since I haven’t been to anyone else’s house since the Bitch-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fucked me over.
We stop at the gas station for snacks before going to Bo’s. Cheetos, mini donuts, and soda. The houses in the hood are all different from each other, so I was expecting Bo’s neighborhood to be all cookie-cutter houses, but it’s not. All the houses on the block look like they were custom-built, and they’re all so far apart they could fit a small apartment complex between them. There’s a brick pathway to one house, stones paving the way to the next, and then there’s Bo’s house. Several sets of ornamental dwarf maple trees stand on either side of the cobblestone path leading to the entryway, where two Chinese dragon statues frame Bo’s front door.
Seems like our whole house could fit in her living room. Twice. My mouth hangs open as I take it in. It’s a good thing I never let Bo drive us home. That would have been embarrassing.
This is the biggest house I’ve ever been in, but not the biggest one on her street. A hideous animal greets us when we walk in. It’s the funniest-looking mutt I’ve ever seen, but it seems like it loves me already, so I kind of melt.
“Down, Gregory!” Bo laughs as the dog—Gregory—gives her slobbery doggy kisses. When some older white guy in a sweater-vest walks in, the dog gets distracted and leaves Bo alone.
Amber goes over to the white guy and gives him a superlong handshake complete with finger guns and pattycake.
“You guys are so embarrassing.” Bo covers her face with her palms, then turns to me. “This is my dad.”
“You must be Yamilet?” Bo’s dad asks.
I give my sweetest smile and nod. He knows my name, so that means Bo must have talked about me. I don’t know why that makes me so nervous.
“Nice to finally meet you!” He gives me the Vulcan salute from Star Trek. Bo’s dad is a huge dork. I guess Bo is kind of a dork, too.
Wait, finally? How much has Bo talked about me? What does she say about me? I feel like a frozen computer. But Bo starts toward the stairs, so I shake it off and follow her with Amber.
Decorations cover so much of Bo’s house; statues of lions, dragons, and Buddha are everywhere. There are fans and paintings with writing I don’t understand on the walls between family portraits. I’m almost surprised to see in the pictures that both of Bo’s parents are white, even though she’d already told me they were, because of all the Chinese decorations.