took after our mother and Gabby took after our father, but now, seeing them standing side by side, their arms crossed against the cold, I could see the resemblance almost vibrating between their bodies, the similarity in the way they stood, the way they moved, the dark chocolate color of their hair, though my mother had several strands of silver coming in. I was overwhelmed. I was suddenly extremely upset and worried I would cry, but I had no idea why and it seemed so inappropriate that I was horrified by myself. I couldn’t seem to breathe correctly.
“Michael, are you okay?” my mother asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “This is just so weird. I haven’t seen you guys in a while, and then the house, and I…”
“I know,” my mother said.
“Cause you’re a traitor,” Gabby said. She did a fake little ninja kick at my leg.
I stuttered, not sure what to say. “I-I’m not a traitor,” I said.
“Well, you’re the one who didn’t want to live with us,” Gabby said.
“Oh, Gabby,” my mother said. “We don’t need to talk about that.”
“You never invited me to live with you,” I said. I thought they meant the house, this house, the current house.
“Yes, we did,” Gabby said. “Aunt Deedee said you refused. Said you wanted to stay with her.”
“What? When? When are you talking about?”
“We don’t need to bring all this up, this is ancient history,” my mother said.
Was that what they thought? That it had been I who abandoned them? I tried desperately to remember exactly how it had all happened, how it had been decided, but it was so many years ago, and so many of the conversations had been had between my mother and Aunt Deedee that I had no idea what had been said.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“He’s not even sorry!” Gabby said.
“What? Sorry for what?”
“You were my big brother,” she said. “And you just fucking abandoned me.”
“You are twisting this. Mom didn’t want me.”
“Who said I didn’t want you?” my mother said, her voice almost hysterical with emotion. “Did Deedee say that?”
“No!” I said, because I couldn’t remember her actually saying that. “She didn’t say that, it was just implied. Because—well, I mean, because I’m gay.”
My mother clapped both her hands over her mouth in surprise.
“Michael!” she gasped. “You are not.”
“I am,” I said.
“You are not,” she said again.
This conversation was getting so bizarre that I looked around at the grass, at the daisies, at the fairy garden, trying to find something to cling to, that was real, that made sense. “I thought you knew,” I said, “when I was in the hospital—you just—I mean, why did you think I was there?”
“You were beat up!” she said. “Why would that make me think you were gay?”
“I was beat up because I’m gay,” I said, though I didn’t know if that was true either.
“I just want you to know that I accept you,” Gabby said, which was such a one-eighty from her previous anger that I couldn’t take it in as sincere at first.
“You’re not gay,” my mother said more confidently.
“I am definitely gay,” I said. “Mom, I’m gay.”
“I know you think you’re gay,” she said. “But you’re not.”
“Mom, if he says he’s gay, he’s gay,” Gabby said, and I was grateful that she was my unexpected ally in this situation, but it did nothing to deter my mother.
“Trust me,” my mother said, “I know you’re not gay.”
“How do you know I’m not gay?” I asked.
“Because you would get crushes on little girls!” she said, tugging her hands inside the sleeves of her beige sweater. “When you were little! You always loved the little girls. Listen, Michael, just being more sensitive, having taste, being interested in art, those things don’t make you gay.”
“I like to suck cock, Mom,” I said. “I like to fuck men in the ass.”
“Shut your mouth,” my mother said, her fury instant and electric.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “Thanks for the flask. I’ll use it for all the drinking I don’t do!”
And I turned and went back into the house. I looked for a second at the cake on the counter. They had gotten the bakery to write Happy Birthday and my name on it. The guilt was so strong it seemed to make my vision wobble, but I went into the living room where James was learning that aliens had visited the Old West and been seen by cowboys. “Bye!” I said, as I put on my sweatshirt.
“Oh, you leaving?”