The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(46)

I send it. Dad always told me to prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

I force myself to take a breath and think. The worst-case scenario would be getting kicked out. I wish I could talk about it with Cesar, but he’s always with Jamal, and I don’t want to bum them out, especially since it’s exactly what Jamal’s going through right now.

There’s no time to be sad if I focus on logistics. Mom will think she lost her phone, and that’ll buy me some time to figure out what to do if Dad wants to tell her about me being gay. Honestly, she’s such a busy mess right now with work and jewelry stuff, she’ll barely miss it.

If he does find a way to tell her, I’ll deny it. It’ll be his word against mine, and I have a fake boyfriend to back me up. But . . . in case that doesn’t work, I should probably get another job as a backup plan. It’s not like I can support myself with this jewelry stuff if Mom disowns me.

I shove my anxiety as far down as it’ll go and focus on solutions. I need to start on job applications. Just in case. After a quick Google search, I figure out how to beef up my résumé and make myself sound a lot more experienced than I am. Apparently I’m a “social media and marketing manager” for my mom. Plus, I have creative, organizational, and time management skills from this jewelry job. That should get me in the door somewhere.

Jamal has more than overstayed the “few days” Mom gave him, but she hasn’t made him leave yet. Even after a couple of weeks, she hasn’t acknowledged it. At least not in front of me. But I don’t think it’ll last much longer, since Mom is definitely not looking to adopt another kid. I sometimes want to talk to Jamal about what happened when he got kicked out, but it’s such a sensitive subject for him that I can’t bring myself to ask. We’re not close enough, and it’s way out of my lane. I mind my own business, just like I want other people to mind theirs.

As far as Jamal knows, I’m just doing him and Cesar a favor. Pretending to be his girlfriend is actually a lot of fun. Probably because I know he isn’t interested. It’s good practice for me, too. And Cesar gets a little jealous of me, which adds to the appeal.

When Thanksgiving rolls around, Jamal’s still with us. We have the rest of the week off, but since we don’t celebrate the colonial holiday, it’s just another couple of days off school.

Cesar wants to go get Takis, and Mom makes Jamal and me go, too, so we won’t be in the house alone. It’s a good opportunity for me to submit some applications in person, since no one has answered the online ones so far.

Mom sends us out with a container full of chilaquiles to drop by Do?a Violeta’s. Jamal and I hold hands as we walk out, then let go the minute we’re out of my mom’s sight. The breeze is actually pretty nice today, and the sun isn’t quite bright enough to give me a foot tan through my chanclas. It’s about time mother nature decided to give me a break from this heat.

Even though Jamal and I aren’t holding hands anymore, Cesar and Jamal don’t get to act any more couple-y in public than they do with my mom. There’s the occasional car driving by, so I guess they can’t be too careful. When we walk, the most they do is brush hands every once in a while. It’s brief enough to look like an accident, but happens too often for it not to be on purpose.

I hold my breath when we pass Bianca’s house. I don’t want to run into her. I notice someone’s put away our—her—flowerpots. They aren’t outside anymore, so their front yard feels naked. She must have gotten rid of them after I ruined the flowers. Good.

We keep following the mariachi music, which blares louder and louder until we’re at Do?a Violeta’s porch. Another family beat us to bringing her food today. There’s already a good handful of people eating with her on her porch, so she doesn’t need us.

From down the street, I see Bianca and her friends walking from the store we’re headed to. Even from a distance, she looks pretty. I’m smart enough now to know it’s not the kind of pretty you want to get close to. Bianca is pretty like Snow White’s evil queen. The scary kind of pretty. The kind of pretty that won’t hesitate to poison you.

I briskly walk inside Do?a Violeta’s house to avoid having to walk past them. Cesar and Jamal say quick hellos to everyone, while I put the chilaquiles in the fridge and wait for Bianca to pass the house. I put my hand on my chest until my heart rate returns to normal, listening to the conversation outside to try to calm my nerves. It sounds like one of them is about to go off to college, so they’re all talking about their futures. My heart slows to a normal pace once enough time has passed that I’m sure I won’t cross paths with her on the way to the store. I walk out, acting like nothing out of the ordinary happened, and bless Cesar and Jamal for going along with it. We keep walking.

“I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it before. What’s you guys’ dream jobs?” Jamal asks, continuing the conversation from Do?a Violeta’s.

I shrug. I guess I don’t really have one. Maybe if I had more supportive parents, I would be able to entertain these kinds of thoughts. I hate that the thought even crossed my mind. I don’t know Dad isn’t supportive yet. Mom, though—probably. So, I’m left scrambling to save enough money to move out if it comes down to it, all while licking the wound from my dad’s newfound absence.

“What’s the point of having a dream job when tomorrow’s never guaranteed?” Cesar asks, and it surprises me a bit. It’s kind of a morbid thought for Cesar. I think of Do?a Violeta’s husband. It’s true that tomorrow is never guaranteed, but that’s the opposite reason for why I don’t have a dream job. For me, it’s to plan for the unknowable tomorrow.