O.A. - Ruby

When I was in my senior year, I decided it was TIME. It was time to tell mom that her son was gay. In early June, she came to visit me when I got my diploma in higher education. The day before graduation, I took her on a walk at the botanical garden.

Since it is impossible to mentally prepare for something like that, I decided to just spit it out, so to speak. I thought it would be like tearing off a Band-Aid. But it turned out that the Band-Aid was very well stuck and it took a lot of effort to tear it off.

We found a cozy bench under a large linden tree, and I decided that there would be no more opportune moment than now.

“Mom… I…”

“What?”

The pause lasted about 10 seconds, but it felt like about 20 minutes.

It was like pulling the trigger of a pistol at your head.

“What are you? Sick or something?”

Pull yourself together! Be a man!

“I’m…” Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! “Gay…”

Well, that’s it. You said it. YOU DID IT!

Mom gave out a nervous laugh. It was clear that she had not yet fully digested the news she had just heard. The silence lasted 10 seconds.

“Maybe you’re just bi?”

Out of my worry, I could not quite understand whether she had seriously asked that or was trying to make a joke.

“No, Mommy, it’s already definite.”

Probably, every person has had moments when they could say that their lives were divided into “before and after” a certain event. For some it’s the birth of a child and for others it’s receiving an Oscar for the leading male role in a foreign film, for example. I had several such situations when I thought: This is it! Now I will definitely be able to divide my life into “before and after” this moment, now everything will be different. And, perhaps, this conversation was the first of such delusions. The before was life in the closet, the after was the coming out in a small circle of people, the first of whom was my mother.

“When did you understand this? Have you had girls?”

Here we goooooooo…

“I have known about it since kindergarten. More precisely the first signs were in kindergarten.”

“First signs? What are you talking about?”

“When the older brother of a girl in our group came to get her, I was just dumbfounded, he seemed so handsome to me. How old was I then? Five, I guess. At the time I did not attach much importance to it but that was the first alarm bell. Yes, I had girls.”

In fact, I had not been with a girl but in order to avoid questions like “How can you claim that you are gay if you haven’t had a girlfriend?” I decided to lie.

“Mom, there is, in fact, nothing surprising. Everything started in early childhood. Do you remember the first audio cassette you gave me?” I tried to move the conversation into a more comic tone.

“Which one?”

“The George Michael Older 3 3 Third studio album by George Michael, released on May 13, 1996 in Europe. album.”

“What’s the connection?” It was visible that mom was holding back tears.

“Well, George Michael is famously openly gay. And there was the first birthday present I remember? The small PINK electronic piano, it was as if you and father were hinting to me: ‘Son, you will soon find that you like boys’. ” A nervous laugh escaped my lips. “This is not my choice or preference. I was born this way and there is nothing you can do about it, and I want to say right away that this is not your or anyone else’s fault. It just happened and nothing can be changed.”

Mom covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders began to tremble.

This is not fair. I don’t have to make excuses. I haven’t done anything wrong.

A wave of cold anger swept over me.

“Mom, it’s okay. Look,” my voice sounded firm and detached, “I love you and I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I lied to you before because I love you. And now I am telling you the truth, because I love you. I want to be extremely honest with you and I want you to take part in my REAL life, in the one I did not tell you about. Therefore, all tears from this news cry here and now. We’ll sit here as long as it takes you to calm down, and then I suggest we go to the movies.”

It took mom about three months to get used to the idea that she would not have grandchildren, and that if she suddenly for some reason did, then they would have two dads. But by September we had mutual jokes about my orientation and I could calmly discuss guys with her and call a spade a spade.

“Hello, are you hungry? There is a pan of pies with feta cheese and herbs in the refrigerator.” Camilla was sitting at the kitchen table over another spread of cards.

She is spending too much time with her Tarot cards. This week I always find her at the cards.

“Cool! You are a God send! Should I warm up enough for two? Are the guys at home?”

“Amir is the host at some event today. My sister is sleeping with Herman. Everything seems to be serious. I’ve already eaten, warm some up for yourself, and please put on the kettle, we’ll have tea together.”

There were about 20 patties in the pan. I put five on my plate and put it in the microwave to warm them up. Then I put the kettle on to boil. All this time Cam was staring intently at the layout of the cards.

“What do the cards say? What or whose fortune are you reading?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Camilla put together the seven cards laid out in front of her and returned them to the deck. “I have spent much too long with them today…”

Sitting at the table, we didn’t ask each other how we were doing. The conversation did not go well. After discussing the unpredictable weather, we each sunk into our own thoughts. I tried to at least pretend to be thinking about something significant and serious. I think that this evening Camilla is not in the mood to talk about her problems or listen to mine. We seemed to be in accordance with this. I promised myself to definitely talk to her tomorrow during the day, ask what is happening in her life, why she seemed so sad tonight, maybe suggest watching some movie together, without waiting for Sophia and Amir. But I will try to do all this tomorrow. Not today. I hope this doesn’t make me a bad friend.

“Thank you very much, everything was really very tasty,” having finished my tea and finished my portion of pies, I got up from the table to put the dishes in the sink.

“Don’t screw yourself up,” Cam smiled.

The electronic timer on the microwave showed ten o’clock in the evening.

“What are you planning to do now?”

“I thought about reading, maybe I’ll give myself a manicure…”

“So, you’re going to take a nap?”

“You know me too well.”

“Leave the mug. I’ll wash the dishes, go rest.”

Camilla stretched, got up from the table and, wishing me good night, went to her room.

Heavy rain began again outside the window. After washing the dishes, I turned off the lights in the kitchen and climbed onto the windowsill in the dark. Crossing my legs, I made myself comfortable and began to observe the poor fellows out on the street who were taken by surprise by the weather. My attention was attracted to a girl in a dress with a crinoline 4 4 A wide bell-shaped skirt on thin hoops (in vogue until the middle of the 19th century). , as if from some old film. She stood out not so much because of her drunk zigzag gait, but due to a truly gigantic braid wrapped around her neck, the belt and dragging behind her dress. Apparently, someone is having a really bad day today. The girl approached the pedestrian crossing, and two passing cars, one after the other, splashed the poor thing from a large puddle. Even from the fifth floor, I could see her pointing her middle finger after them.