at her. A real friend. The girl who fought for me, freaked out about losing me, and …
Apologized to me.
I suck in a deep breath and think about Megan. How toxic she is for me, and how I still don’t want to be around her. There are two Megans: the one who made me the scrapbook and the one who outed me to my whole school. Dealing with the second isn’t worth it, just to stay friends with the first.
Sophie clears her throat. “So yeah, tell me all about Italy.”
And I do, between bites of food.
I walk into the apartment, and immediately lock eyes with Aunt Leah. She’s not supposed to be back for another month, so even though she gives me a sweet smile, a chill runs through my body.
“Marty!” She pats the seat next to her on the couch, and as I come in I see Shane sitting at the kitchen table, a hesitant look on his face. I feel everything start to unravel as I take a seat, but I hold it together. Or at least, I try to.
Because I’ll never know if I can until I try.
“You’re back early,” I say.
“Yes, I am. I want you to know, first, that I’m not angry with you.” She looks up to Shane. “Maybe a little with you, but I understand why you did what you did.”
She sighs, and I think about interjecting or playing dumb, but really, what’s the point? I sent my parents all my old diary entries; they detail pretty clearly how much of a flop I was in that audition. The pieces must have come together.
“Your mum called me,” she said. “And she was not happy.”
“I’m sorry.” I say it quickly, but she just raises a hand before I can elaborate.
“Apologies can come later. I need to talk for a bit.” She sighs again, blowing out a chest full of air and looking to the ceiling. “You know, our family was never religious? It seems odd, looking back, because all our friends were super Catholics, but that was just never something we were a part of.”
“I guess I never really thought of that,” I say. “Our megachurch kind of took over our whole lives, so it was hard to imagine anything came before.”
“I’m not sure what drew her to it. Maybe she was trying to find her own family, which is probably something you can relate to. But anyway, I got pregnant at around the same time your mum did, which you could probably figure out since you and Shane were born a month apart. It was unplanned, it was a scary situation for me, but I was so glad I had a pregnancy buddy. I was already doing this without any ‘dad’ in the picture, so I really hoped it would bring me closer to your mum. I needed her.
“This was, unfortunately, a few months after she joined that big fundraising machine she calls a church, and I had started to see changes. She always distanced herself from me, from her life here, and I can only guess why. But it escalated when she knew I’d gotten pregnant. Out of wedlock. The horror.” She rolls her eyes.
“She turned her back on you for that?” Shane asks. “That sounds nothing like the aunt I knew, the one who’d send me birthday cards every year. They were the tacky Jesus-y inspirational ones, sure, but she still wrote so much in them. I remember because they seemed even more out of touch than the ones Nan would send.”
“She loved you, of course. And she’s obviously not all bad—she’s a normal person, just easily influenced by anyone with a cross hanging around their neck. Point is, I can’t imagine your experience being raised in that environment as a gay teen, but I do know what it’s like to be young and have someone turn their back on you in the name of religion. I know the shame that comes with that. So, after Shane came out—and told me you had too—I vowed to do what I could to help you.”
“I know,” I say. “And I … took advantage of that.”
I run a hand through my hair and try not to let the guilt gnaw at me, but it still creeps into my stomach and builds like a full-body cramp.
“So, like I said, your mum called. And it took us a while to sort out the truth. She said you sent them a diary you kept from your time