The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(63)

It’s sweet how much Bo’s parents love her. And how much her dogs love her. And her friends. And me. She’s a very loved person.

I guess I am, too, if I think about it. My mom loves me a lot. And even if Cesar is ignoring me, I know he still loves me. Somewhere deep, deep down. But with my mom, at least, it feels conditional. Like if I’m not exactly who she needs me to be, then I’m unlovable. Maybe she doesn’t actually love me, but the person she thinks I am. The way Bianca did. And my dad. My own fucking dad.

I haven’t been able to be really close with someone in a long time. The closest I can get is some kind of fake-Yami limited closeness. I know straight Yami is lovable. Sometimes I wonder about me, though. I always lose people when they find out. Except for Cesar. But maybe I lost him, too. I don’t know.

Maybe I’m being dramatic. He’s my brother. Siblings fight. It’s probably not a big deal.

Still, there’s a little bubble in my chest that’s been growing the last couple of days since they left. I wonder if they’re having fun right now. I wonder if they’re having too great a time with each other to think about missing me. I wonder if they’re all bonding over how much they hate me.

And if Mom knows now, I wonder if Cesar is okay.





17


Remember Thy Ancestors. Keep Them Holy.


Bo’s parents apparently have a no-presents rule for Christmas, but I still feel like I have to give them some kind of thank-you gift. They’re giving me a place to stay and keeping me company all break. Christmas is tomorrow, so I don’t have much time to figure it out. The least I can do is . . . something. I have no idea. They won’t even let me do chores around the house, because I’m “the guest.” I feel like a huge burden without being able to do something.

I can’t wrap my head around why they’re so kind to me. I definitely don’t deserve it. Maybe I should go home to save them the trouble. But at the same time, I selfishly want the special treatment. When I go home from break, I’ll have to face my mom. If she hasn’t found out I’m gay yet, she probably will before I see her again. Staying here makes that problem feel so much more distant.

I still don’t know what to do about money once that happens. Maybe if I drop out of school, finding a job will be easier since I could work full-time? I never thought about dropping out before, but I’ll have to if I get kicked out. Honestly, I was never that great in school anyway.

Bo interrupts my thoughts by blasting “Take Me to Church” while she showers. She’s been playing her music out loud more ever since I brought it up. That song seems to be a favorite of hers. She calls it the lesbian anthem. And she’s definitely not afraid to belt it in the shower, where her voice echoes throughout the whole upper floor, muffled only by the flow of water. I would be mortified to let anyone hear me singing, let alone in the shower. But I guess that’s another difference between me and Bo. She’s not afraid of anything.

Sometimes I wish I was more like Bo. Unapologetic, proud, happy, supported. But I also wish I was less like her. I wish I didn’t have to want to be unapologetic. I wish there was nothing for me to be unapologetic about.

I don’t know what else to do, so I pray for the first time in a long time.

But it doesn’t make me feel any better.

It’s two in the morning and I’ve been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, for the last two hours. It’s officially Christmas. After working all day yesterday, I’m embarrassed with the present I came up with. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s too personal. They’ll probably think it’s stupid. They’ll know I did it because I couldn’t afford to get them a real present.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered. This isn’t my family, and this isn’t my house. It’s too perfect. Bo’s parents are too nice to me, and they’re all too happy. And I’m trying to be perfect and nice and happy, too, but I feel like an imposter, and I kind of just want to be miserable right now. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep tonight, so I wander downstairs to get some chips or something.

When I pass by Bo’s parents’ room, the sound of them bickering throws me off a little. They’re still awake? I plug my ears as I pass by, so as not to intrude on their argument. Just another reason I feel like I don’t belong here. I open the pantry and grab a bag of chips when I hear my name. I stop where I stand and shamelessly eavesdrop. They seem to have calmed down and are just talking normally now, but if their previous argument had to do with me, it’s my business.

“Why do you think she didn’t go to Mexico with her family?” Rick’s voice. The words tug on my gut. They know I lied about the school project? Maybe they know more about the curriculum than I thought. I should have kept up some kind of act and pretended to do homework. I get in my head and miss some of the conversation.

“Poor girl. No kid should have to live like that.” Bo’s mom.

Live like what? I don’t know what assumptions they’ve made about me, but I’m doing just fine. I don’t need their charity, or their pity. I don’t deserve it. I back away and run up to the guest room. Without giving it another thought, I start packing my bag. It would be in everyone’s favor if I left before they all woke up.

I sneak downstairs again. Just as I’m passing the kitchen, water from the sink turns on, and I scream. So does Bo’s dad. His plastic water cup falls to the ground.