The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(58)

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.

Maybe he’s mad because his mom is homophobic.

I shrug.

“It’s good he left, because I have something I want to talk to you about,” she whispers.

“Okay?”

“Since your brother’s birthday is coming up, I thought we could do something special.”

“Yeah?” Cesar’s birthday is December 23. Mine’s on February 12, so both of our birthdays are overshadowed by some other big holiday. At least Cesar gets double the presents.

“I’ve been saving up some money. I have enough to send the two of you over to your dad’s for the winter break!” She shows me a printed-out itinerary, tearing up. We leave on Monday. I swallow down bile. She doesn’t know Dad’s not talking to me, and I can’t tell her why without risking the same treatment from her. Or worse, since I kind of depend on her for survival.

“You wouldn’t be coming?” I ask.

“I only have enough for two tickets, so no. It’s okay, though. You spend every Christmas with me. You should get to spend one with your dad.” She looks sad that she can’t go, but so happy for me at the same time, I can’t handle it.

“Mom . . .” Now we’re both tearing up. If she had told me this two months ago, they would have been tears of joy, which I’m sure Mom thinks they are.

“WHAT!” Cesar calls out from the hallway. He was probably eavesdropping to see if we would keep talking about Jamal. He rushes back to the table and sits down.

“We’re going to see Dad?”

Mom throws her arms up in defeat. “You couldn’t wait for me to surprise you?”

“Thank you, Mami! Thank you, thank you!” Cesar gives her a tight hug and kisses her on the cheek. They’re talking back and forth, but I can’t concentrate anymore.

“I can’t go,” I interrupt.

“?Y por qué no?” She’s using her scary voice now, and I can’t help it. I break down into a teary, blubbering mess, and she ditches Cesar to hug me instead. Her scary voice completely vanishes. “Mija, what’s wrong?”

I can’t answer that, so I just sob into her chest. She doesn’t say anything, just rubs my back while I cry. Her hand on my back coaxes the tears to calm, and I wish things could stay like this between us forever. I wipe my eyes. I have to get myself together enough to make an excuse.

“I’m just really stressed with homework. I have a huge project due after break, I have to stay and finish it.”

“Okay, mija, it’s okay.” She strokes my hair.

“Mami, are you gonna take Yami’s ticket and come with me?” Cesar asks. My throat contracts again. If she goes, and Dad tells her . . .

“And leave Yamilet here alone? I don’t think so,” she says, and I let out my breath.

“Um . . . But I’m still going, though, right?” Cesar asks, and Mami rubs her temple.

“Mijo, I don’t want you flying out there by yourself.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s for my birthday! Suck it up and do your homework there, Yami!” he shouts.

“I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” My voice cracks. When both Cesar and I are in tears, Mami finally gives in.

“Okay, okay. But if I go, how do I know you’re not going to burn my house down, huh?” she asks.

“I’m practically an adult. It’ll be fine. Look at me! I’m giving up vacation with Dad to do homework.” I sniffle, but I think I still sound convincing. “If that doesn’t scream responsibility, I don’t know what does.”

Mami chews on her lip. “Well . . . I guess you are old enough. But if you’re going to stay here, you need to focus on your project. No working or nothing like that, all right?”

“Really? But what about all our orders?” I ask.

“I handled this before you started helping me, and I’ll handle it now. Focus on your homework. I’ll take care of the rest on my own, con el favor de Dios.”

“Okay, Mami.”