had that talk, and she told me it wouldn’t be any trouble. I just don’t want to go.”
“Ben—” Mom starts to say, but Dad puts a hand on her arm and that stops her.
“We’ll discuss that later,” he says.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask again. “Stop avoiding the question.”
“Well.” Mom presses her hands together. “We wanted to talk with you more about this whole ‘being nonbinary’ thing.”
It’s awfully strange hearing my mother actually say the word “nonbinary” aloud. It doesn’t really belong, like it’s the kind of word you’d never expect someone like her to know. “Okay.” I lean forward a little. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.
“We, um … We’re just confused.” Mom tries to relax. “So, we tried to find things online, and that didn’t really help us.”
“And?” I look at the two of them.
“Honey.” Mom sighs. “We tried, we really did. We’re still trying to wrap our heads around it.”
“It’s not exactly theoretical physics,” I say. “I don’t identify as male or female, I fall outside the gender binary. I use they/them pronouns.” I keep my voice low so Nathan won’t hear me. I doubt he could anyway, all the way across the restaurant, but you never know.
“Well, son, you have to admit that it’s all very strange,” Dad says. I can’t tell if the “son” is deliberate or not.
“I’m not your ‘son,’” I say. “And what’s so strange about it? This is just who I am. Why can’t you two understand that?”
“Are you sure you aren’t just confused?” Dad asks. “Maybe you’re just gay or something and this has just been a difficult time for you?”
Dad makes “gay” sound like an insult.
“Being gay and being nonbinary are two different things!” I should know; I spent enough time having to tell myself that.
Mom looks taken aback for a second.
And Dad looks furious. Always the dramatic one. “Benjamin De Backer, don’t you take that tone with us, we’re your parents.”
“Well, how am I supposed to sound? You two are sitting here insulting me.”
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose and waves his hand around. “Okay, let’s start over.”
“Tell me one thing, what was the goal here? Why did you two want to talk after what happened?”
“We wanted to apologize,” Mom says.
“Well, you’re doing a bang-up job,” I say.
Dad rolls his eyes. “We want you to come home.”
I freeze. “What?”
“We want you to come back home,” Mom repeats, and it’s obvious she seems happier about it than Dad does. “Obviously it’d be hard with school ending, and we’re willing to wait until you graduate. Maybe make the transition a little easier.”
That makes me laugh, but they both stare at me.
“I don’t think it’s very funny,” Dad adds.
I breathe in and out slowly. I never pictured my parents as queerphobic assholes. But maybe that’s my fault for assuming the best of them.
“We miss you. We want to be a family again.” Mom looks at me, those eyes.
I think about their words, repeating them to myself over and over again in my head. They want me back? They want to be a family again?
“Ben, you have to understand how hard this has been on the both of us.” Mom looks like she actually might cry.
“What?” One step forward, a hundred steps back. “You kick me out of the house, and it’s been hard on the both of you?” I make sure I’m talking loud enough so that the people at the next table over are staring. “Do you know how you two sound right now?”
“Benjamin.” Dad looks around; he must realize what I’m trying to do. “Lower your voice.”
“Listen.” Mom sticks up a hand. “We’re still learning here. We made mistakes and we want to work to correct them. We’ve changed, we started seeing a counselor, and we’re working through some things. It was a difficult time. For all of us.”
“You two hurt me,” I spit. “Do you … Do you even realize the shit you put me through? Not just kicking me out, but the months of therapy I’ve had to go through to get past everything?” It’s slowly dawning on me that Dr. Taylor was right, and that I really should’ve listened to her.
“Honey.” Mom puts her hand on top of mine, and I don’t think about pulling away before it’s too late. Her skin on mine, the warmth of it, it’s too familiar and too strange at the same time. I try to suppress the rise in my stomach. “We’re so, so