JEREMY
MUm is fidgeting in the kitchen. She has that uncomfortable look about her that usually comes before she reminds me of the Golden Condom Rule and hands me a banana.
Now I wish I’d stayed out longer with Steven.
I stop texting and wait for it, briefly entertaining the idea of darting the hell out of there. I’d do it too, if it weren’t for the fact I’m stuck at the table. By the time I would have untangled myself from the chair, Mum would have wedged herself between me and the door.
Fiddling with my phone, I wonder if I can make it ring somehow.
Anything to distract me.
I set to typing a quick message to Steven: Ring me ASAP.
Tucking her dark shoulder-length hair behind her ear, she moves over to the table. When she passes the fruit bowl without pausing, I start to get a little nervous.
What does she want to say?
Does she know the truth about Steven? I gulp and eye her more carefully. She seems more nervous than angry, so I think I’m lucky on this count.
But I’m still getting uneasy. There’s something in the back of my head trying to whisper something to me. Come on, Jeremy, you know this is it. Mum is finally going to tell you that secret she’s been holding back.
I shake my head, because I’m not ready to hear that secret. “Uh,”—I stand abruptly—“I gotta piss.”
She eyes me and tilts her head to the side, the way she does when she’s trying to see through me. “You just went. Can you sit back down a second, there’s just something I’d like to talk to you about.” The chair she drags out makes a horrible squealing sound, and I hope it’s not a bad omen.
I thump my ass back on the chair. “And . . . what’s that?” I’m gripping my phone harder and now I really want Steven to ring and save me.
“Do you like this table?” Mum says, palming the thick polished wood.
I frown; somehow the way she says it feels like a trap. “It’s sturdy. Much better than Dad’s, anyway.”
“Well,” she says, “that’s good.”
“Okay?” I’m not really sure how I’m meant to answer that.
Mum breathes out slowly, wringing her hands together. “I know this time of your life, you’re going through a lot of changes.”
It’s obvious she’s referring to my supposed sexuality, and I swallow a lump of shame that comes with that lie. “Right. And?”
“I don’t want to make any more changes to your life than necessary, do you understand?”
“Mum, you’re being as clear as mud right now. But I think I’m sifting through it.” Even if I don’t want to be.
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you this until I was sure how serious it was, but,”—she looks me in the eye, and her face is one big smile—“I’ve met someone, Jeremy.”
I go blank. All I’m seeing is mud. That voice is back: Ah, there it is. The secret. Don’t act like you’re so surprised. I tell it to shut up, and sink further into the haze of shock. Or maybe it’s denial. Something. “Huh?”
“Greg and I have been seeing each other for about a year now.”
“A year,” I repeat. And then I snap out of the haze. I hear what she’s telling me and I’m pushing away from the table and jumping to my feet. “The T-shirt. Combs . . .” I don’t want to hear anymore. Don’t want to know what exactly Mum’s telling me.
But she doesn’t let me leave. She holds my sleeve as I try to pass her. “He’s been here the weeks you’ve stayed at your Dad’s.”
That’s just too much. He stays here, as in sleeps and—I shudder.
She bows her head. “Maybe I should have told you earlier. I just didn’t want to mess around with your head.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“Because I want you to meet him. Get to know him.”
I jerk out of her grasp. “Why would I want that?” I don’t like where I think this might be going, and I hope if I’m loud and obnoxious enough, I won’t have to hear it. Mum will change her mind and things will stay just as they are.
“Because he wants us to move in with him.”
It’s like when I get winded out on the field, except way worse. Some stupid guy I don’t even know gets to upend my life. “Hell no.”
“Watch your tongue. You haven’t even met him yet. Give him a chance. We’re going to take it slowly, it’s not like we’re moving tomorrow, but someday in the near future. Just . . . meet him. I think you’ll like him.”
“You must be out of your mind. I don’t want to have to change schools for this guy, and lose my friends, and my team. I don’t want to like “Greg.” I don’t want another Dad, got it? I have one, and that’s enough for me. Fuck.”
“I know this is tough to take in all at once, but Jeremy, please. I want to live my life for me as well, you know?”
I have no answer to that. Even if I might understand her a little, I won’t be able to get the words out around the anger and hurt balled in my throat.
Luckily, I’m saved by my phone ringing.
“It’s Steven,” I say, and stalk away from her. Before I pick up, I pause in the doorway and glare back at her. “Is that why you asked if I liked the table? You’re already deciding what gets to move to the new house?”
Mum turns toward me. She crosses her arms and she looks stern, but there’s something sad in her eyes that belies it. “I was rather thinking for you to use as a desk.”
I shake my head and answer the phone, turning my back on Mum and facing a whole new set of problems.