The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(64)

He brushes himself off when he realizes it’s me. “What are you doing up?” he asks. Then his eyes go to my bag. “Are you leaving?”

“Oh, I was . . . um . . .” I can’t think of a good lie right now, and I can feel blood rushing to my face. I make myself meet his eyes. “I heard you guys talking about me.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.” He looks surprised and a little confused, like he still doesn’t get why I’m leaving.

“I don’t want to be a burden on you,” I say.

“Okay, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but what are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to make you guys fight. And you don’t have to take care of me out of pity.” I cross my arms. I know it makes me look defensive, but it’s more of a self-hug right now.

“Hon, I’m really sorry you had to hear us fighting again, but you have to know that kind of thing just happens. It has nothing to do with you, that’s not what we were saying at all.” His face softens.

“Then what were you saying?” I grip my suitcase in one hand to ground me, but also in case I want to bolt.

Rick sighs. “We wish you felt safe enough to tell us the truth about what’s going on with your family, but I get that it’s none of our business. We’re just worried about you. We care about you, Yamilet. We like having you around. You’re the furthest thing from a burden to us.”

I open my mouth, but I can’t find my words. I can’t relax my shoulders. Tears sting at my lashes, and I can feel my lip start trembling.

“I hate the idea of you being alone for so long, especially over the holidays. But if that’s really what you want, then I won’t stop you. Is that what you want?”

“No!” I hate how the word comes out like a sob. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and the touch pulls the tears out of my eyes. I don’t mean to, but I release my grip on the suitcase and fall into a hug. He flinches in surprise for a second before he starts rubbing my back.

“Hey, it’s all right. It’s all right,” he repeats over and over until I pull away.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.” I hide my face with my hands.

“Okay, I’m not an expert at this sort of thing, but it seems like there’s something bigger going on here. Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

I bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“I miss my dad,” I whisper. I don’t even know if he can hear me.

“Maybe we should sit.” He walks over to the couch and sits, and I follow him.

“Being a teenager has got to be a really rough time for you. It’s confusing, I’m sure. There’s a lot you’re figuring out about yourself, and not everyone is going to support you. But know you have me in your corner, all right? And Emma, too. We might fight sometimes, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love each other, or Bo, or you, okay?”

I can’t tell if this is a generic “troubled teen” pep talk or if he’s trying to insinuate something. Does he know I’m gay? He can’t know. Does he suspect it? Am I overthinking it?

“Thank you” is all I can say. He smiles and nods at my suitcase.

“So hey, if you still want to leave, you can. But I’d love for you to stay for breakfast. I was about to make your favorite.”

“How do you know what my favorite breakfast is?”

“Because you’re about to tell me.” He smiles. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“Chorizo burritos.” I don’t know why talking about my favorite breakfast food makes me tear up.

“You got it. If you still want to leave after I make you some bomb chorizo burritos, go ahead. But not without a proper goodbye, all right?”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Taylor.” I wipe my eyes.

“Rick.” He pulls me into another hug. “Now go get some sleep. It’s too early for crying. Save that for the happy tears when you’re eating the best chorizo burritos of your life.”

I laugh. I doubt he can top my mom’s. He gives me a pat on the back before sending me back upstairs.

Rick is a good cook. He’s a great cook. But his burritos don’t taste like the ones I’m used to. Don’t get me wrong: they’re amazing. They might even be up there with my mom’s when it comes to the cooking itself. But I didn’t just want a good chorizo burrito. I wanted my mom’s cooking. I wanted my mom. Really, I want Cesar, too. And my dad. I want all of them, together.

It makes me feel like shit for not being grateful about the chorizo burritos I’m eating now. I eat them like they’re exactly what I need. I smile and say thank you and have seconds. But it’s not the same.

We gather around the tree for “presents.” Which is basically all of us going around in a circle brainstorming things we can do together. Instead of giving gifts, the idea is to spend the day doing things we all want to do. The activities can take place anytime from today until New Year’s. It’s the first Christmas I’ve ever had that no one dragged me to church. It feels weird, but in a good way.

Bo’s mom wants to watch a family movie at the house, which makes me nervous because I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be included, since she said “family” movie. Rick wants to go ice blocking, which I’ve only done once before when I was little. Bo and I both take longer to decide what we want to do.