15 - He is not my friend

I held my breath as soon as I heard the door to my room being opened and closed again.

"It's me," Conor said softly.

How can I ever face him after this? How can I talk to him now? What should I even say? He's been my boyfriend for less than an hour, and of course, he gets to witness this shit while we should be celebrating right now.

"I'm in the bathroom," I yelled as if that wasn't obvious.

"Take your time," he replied.

"I'm... not using the bathroom. I'm just... in here."

Sometimes I'm surprised that I'm not failing all my classes with all the stupid words my mouth likes to say.

I let go of the wall and turned to the sink, leaned onto it, and pressed my back down to stretch. But I stopped as I heard a slight creak. So I stood straight and was now forced to stare at myself in the mirror that took up the entire wall. Over it, there were light bulbs that made me look pale. And staring at my stupid face didn't make anything better. I wanted to look at Conor's face instead, but... I can't just walk out there and pretend nothing happened. I'm way past that point.

"Sorry, I ruined your day, Conor. I promised I wouldn't do that anymore. But here we are...."

For a moment, all I could hear was the bathroom ventilation that had automatically turned on with the light.

"You haven't ruined anything," he answered slowly. "And it may sound ridiculous, but I am actually proud of you."

"For yelling at my mother?"

"No," A laugh escaped him, before his voice turned serious again. "You know what you just did? You just opened up to her. Even though it was in anger, you told her what was going on inside of you. And judging by her reaction, I think this was a first."

"Could be..."

"I can only imagine how this must feel for you. But I think this is something to be proud of."

I heard Conor sit down in front of the bathroom. The door shook a bit as he probably leaned on it. I made my way to the door, yet not ready to grab the knob.

"Is it just me, Conor? Are they treating me differently? Or am I imagining things?"

"I think your feelings are very real. And you won't get through them if you don't allow them."

"So... should I head down there and... open up more?"

"That is an option."

I wrapped my palm around the doorknob.

"Conor?"

"I'm here."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Always."

I turned the knob and opened the door, forcing Conor to jump up. I hugged him and rested my chin on his shoulder. He smelled so lovely, like a spring day in my childhood when everything was still easy.

"I probably haven't said it enough, but... I love you. I don't know how I deserve to have someone like you as a friend. Let alone being my boyfriend. But I am so glad you are."

"I love you too," he whispered.

"And I'm sorry, but I must talk to her right now. I don't want to wait until it's too late again, and everything feels phony."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to burden more of my shit on him. This was my fight, after all—a hole I dug and had to get out of myself.

"I'll wait for you here."

Even though knowing what he just said helped me a lot.

—

When I returned to the kitchen, the stove was turned off. The steaming crumbled ground meat in the wok waited silently on the counter to be cooked further, giving off the last bit of heat. My eyes searched through the dining area and the living room to find Mom sitting on a light brown wicker chair in the backyard, with a half-burned cigarette in her hand. She looked at the trees bathing in the sun. I crept to the double glass door closest to her and waited inside the frame. She turned her head toward me, and it didn't make me feel good that her face and eyes were red. But she smiled at me as if all the joy of a proud mom was flowing through her.

"Hey, hun," she said, patting the white cushion on the other wicker chair beside her. I slid the chair slightly away as I sat down. She leaned forward, grabbed a glass ashtray, and put the cigarette out.

"I'm sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I don't care about your feelings."

How does one react to something like that?

"And I want to let you know that I noticed you tried hard to be kind."

An eagle flew over the backyard and circled one of the trees close to Aj's treehouse that was still under construction. Mom raised her hand briefly but immediately placed it back in her lab.

"But you have been a real handful since you graduated from middle school. And moving here with you was... exhausting. Everyone was excited about this house, and you... just threw such a fit. You kept getting angrier by the day and exploded over the tiniest of things. How it's too far away from the city, how you don't like the color of your furniture, that you have to put your stuff into a box.... Please understand that this made us, me... careful."

"I'm..."

What she said was correct. It was my hostility that brought us into this situation.

"...sorry."

She nodded, and I could see that she had to fight hard not to cry again. I couldn't hold my head up any longer. It just sacked down. I felt Mom's hand on my knee.

"And I mean that," I went on, "I know that I have not... been kind or grateful to anyone for a long time. And I am deeply sorry for it."

"I love you so much, hun. And I accept your apology. I hope you can accept mine."

She pulled me closer and hugged me into her chest as she did with Aj this morning. It has been a long time since I was that close to her, and I can't deny that it felt strange—comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time.

"I wish I could've just taken away the pain of you losing your best friend back then. But that's not a power Moms have."

My head forced itself out of her hug faster than I could run during a football game. I couldn't believe what she just said.

"You... knew about Conor?"

She tucked her hair behind her ears.

"This boy has practically lived with us ever since you met him. What did you think I did when he stopped showing up, and you refused to answer any questions about him?"

I stared at her, waiting for the answer to that question.

"I called his parents. And they told me they were about to move away."

My legs trembled, and I could feel my blood rising. All this time... she knew? And did nothing about it?

"Why didn't you do anything?"

"What could I have done? It's not like we could have let him live with us," she clutched her cigarette pack.

"No, I mean, why didn't you talk to me? Or help me somehow muddle through this?"

She narrowed her eyes, a disbelieving smile on her face.

"I did try to talk to you. For months. But you kept screaming at me and pushing me away, hun. We even tried getting you to talk to a psychiatrist, but you didn't even open your mouth in the couple of sessions you attended."

"That never happened," I insisted, and I couldn't hold back the urge to get up.

"It most definitely did."

I wandered the white bricks in the backyard, searching my head for memories of what she just told me. It can't be true.My heart raced.

"Why can't I remember that?"

The worried eyes I looked into as I said that felt uncomfortably familiar.

"I think when stuff hurts us really, really deeply, our brain sometimes shuts memories off, so we can keep on living. But believe me. I know that the pain never completely goes away. It lurks somewhere, ready to emerge in the most unfortunate moments and ways."

I ran my eyes over the white bricks, the grass, the trees, and the house, trying to find anything inside me that confirmed that. And then the images kept flashing back to me.

Some woman in a black suit was talking to me in a bright office, asking me questions about Conor.

Mom sat with me in the backyard of our old house and held my hand.

How I turned away when she lay down next to my bed at night in my room to stay with me so I wouldn't feel so alone.

Why did I forget this?

"I don't know why or how, but I'm happy you guys reconnected. I guess that is why you have been trying so hard during the last months, do you?"

I nodded, still trying to figure out why I had forgotten an entire summer that was so crucial. I always thought they didn't like me. When in reality, I was turning them away so hard that they couldn't keep up with it anymore.

"I... entirely forgot about that, Mom." My legs were more fidgety than ever.

"Shit happens, doesn't it?"

And somehow, we both had to laugh at her saying something so casually to me.

"I want to tell you something, Mom. Something important."

I walked back to the chair and, after a confirming nod of hers, sat down again. I thought I wasn't afraid to tell people. But now that I was about to break the news about Conor and me, my legs started shivering more than I had anticipated.

"It is about Conor."

She smiled, not knowing what to expect.

"He is not my friend, Mom. Well, not just my friend. He's also... kind of... my boyfriend. And I guess he always has been in some way."

She closed her eyes, and a relieving smile formed on her face.

"Then I am even happier that he is here now with us."

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I? I see how happy he makes you. Last week you were so excited about him coming. It was almost scary," she laughed.

"Did the others notice?"

"Everyone did, hun. But don't worry about them. Your secret is safe with me."

"It's not a secret. Or... I think I don't want it to be."

She beamed even more than before.

"When do you want to tell them?"

"I haven't really thought about it. I guess as long as Conor is still here."

"If you need any support for that, I'll be there."

And that was something I needed to hear, without even knowing it before. I hugged her again and felt a completely different relief than after what I had been through with Conor over the past few days and months.

"Thank you for being so open with me, hun."

"I... thank you, Mom."

"And now shoo, shoo. You don't want to keep my future son-in-law waiting for too long!"

"Mom!"

"What? I know what men are like. I married one, as well as made and raised three myself."

—

I felt bloated as I turned the light in my room on.

"Your mom cooks a hell of a bibimbap," said Conor as he collapsed onto the couch.

"She loves Asian food, especially Korean."

Aj ran through the floor to his room, which was just opposite mine. Our eyes met, and I smiled at him, but he just showed me his tongue before closing the door. I closed mine, too, and turned with a laugh to Conor.

He stared at his phone, his eyebrows tilted as if something concerned him.

Was he mad I couldn't bring up the courage to tell the whole family during dinner? Probably not. He was the one who told me to take my time and that I didn't have to rush things.

His eyes suddenly widened and wandered from his phone into the emptiness of the room in front of him.

"Everything all right?"

He quickly shook his head as if my words had pulled him out of a trance.

"Yeah. I think I have to call my parents. Is it okay if I go downstairs for that?"

I didn't really understand why he couldn't just call them with me in the room. But it also didn't matter to me. Everyone needs their privacy.

"Sure."

He left the room, and I could hear him walking downstairs. I walked to the window and stared at the trees swaying in the spring wind when my phone buzzed.

It was a group message from my cousin Tristan.

REMINDER!!! Party! Tomorrow! At 7 pm! No entry without gifts!!!

What a jerk. But it's going to be nice to go to a party again. Now that I think about it, this would be my first real party with Conor.

Several messages from other people in the group followed. I hate group chats. Because they never seem to shut up. But one message, in particular, caught my attention. It was nothing spectacular, just a thumbs-up. But I felt a lingering tension in my neck because that's when it hit me: The person who sent it, Milo, will be at the party tomorrow too.

I clicked on his name, and the private chat with him popped up, reminding me of the last messages he sent me about coming for me if I would hurt Conor.

Maybe it would be wise to inform him that I was coming in peace? Or would it be better not to say anything?

I sighed.

"I hate being young," I whispered. Primarily because I hated not knowing how to handle all this stupid drama.

I typed several messages about how I wanted to ask him for a truce for tomorrow. For Conor's sake. But everything I wrote just sounded fake. So I didn't send him anything.

And with everything that happened afterward, maybe that was for the best.