When they were nine years old, Mel and Avery got in trouble. It was all because of Nina’s chicken pox.
That was their first separation from Nina—she was quarantined in her house for two weeks. Since neither Mel nor Avery had had chicken pox by that point, they didn’t quite understand what was happening to her. She was covered in red spots. She had a bad fever. She was sick enough to have earned an all-milk-shake-and-Jell-O diet. That had to be serious.
They were just old enough to be allowed to stay in the house alone by themselves, and one afternoon Mel’s mom went out for an hour. They took advantage of the time by looking through everything that was normally off-limits, like the contents of the top kitchen cabinets. It was there that Avery found the cake mix, and it was her idea to make a cake for Nina. Mel agreed, of course.
By the time Mel’s mom returned, the kitchen was tropically hot and there were two burned cake pieces in badly sizzled tins. There was smoke, spill, and general disaster. Mel’s mom did not take it well.
What Avery remembered most clearly was that there was something unbearably awful and embarrassing about getting yelled at by someone else’s parent. Avery could still remember standing there in Mel’s kitchen, tears streaming down her face, staring resolutely at the remnants of the cake mix box and the still-unopened container of frosting.
Soon after that, Mel’s mom went off to live with Jim Podd, and a little while later she had another baby girl. Avery wondered at the time if the events were connected—if Mel’s mom was so mad about the whole cake thing that she’d actually gone off and started a whole new family, complete with a new kid.
Nine years later and here they were again. The lesson seemed to be: when Nina went away for any extended period, shit hit the fan. The corollary was that Mel’s mom seemingly had the ability to call them both on the carpet. Nothing really ever changed in her life—things just got bigger, longer, and increasingly complicated.
Avery could see the confusion on her parents’ faces when they told her that Mrs. Podd had called and asked that they all meet at Mel’s house to discuss “something very important.” Avery pled ignorance, then got in her car and drove around the neighborhood in circles, chain-smoking all the while, until she was out of time.
When they arrived at the house, Mel’s mom answered the door—something that hadn’t happened in years. Mel was sitting in the living room, chin resting on her chest. After exchanging a few puzzled pleasantries, Avery’s parents asked why they were there.
“I thought it would be best if we all sat down and discussed this together,” Mel’s mother said. She hadn’t actually looked at Avery up until this point. She did now.
“What are we discussing?” Avery’s mom asked.
“A situation. Something that’s just come to our attention.”
“What kind of situation?” Avery’s dad asked.
Mel’s mom fixed her blouse for a good two minutes while her dad looked down at the floor.
“Avery and Melanie have been …”
Mel’s mom stopped and looked at the heavy green winter curtains, which didn’t quite match the slightly different green of the rug. The clash genuinely seemed to disturb her.
“Have been what?” Avery’s mother asked.
“More than friends.”
She seemed to hate these words even more than the curtains. She didn’t say them in any kind of evil, Cruella De Vil voice, but Avery could feel her disgust.
“Is this true?” Avery’s mother asked.
“We’re not dating,” Avery said in a low voice. That was true, at least.
“Then why did Nina say that we would all want to join a group for parents of gay teenagers?” Mel’s mother asked.
Avery had no idea when or why Nina would have said that. It didn’t even matter now.
“Look,” Avery’s mom said slowly. “We know these are two good girls. And if they’re gay—”
“I’m not gay,” Avery cut in.
“They have to be comfortable admitting that to us.”
“But I’m not.”
“Because they are still our daughters.” Mrs. Dekker patted Avery’s shoulder. Avery rolled her eyes to the ceiling in despair.
“If that’s how you want to raise Avery, fine,” Mel’s mother said. “But I don’t want this for Mel. When she’s older, she’ll regret all the things she could have had—a husband, kids. She’ll see that people treat her differently, and she won’t like it.”
“I think if our daughters are discovering their sexuality, we should at least listen to what they have to say.”
“Discovering their …” Mel’s mother huffed. “I don’t think you’re dealing with reality here.”
“I’m not discovering anything,” Avery said.
“She’s really not,” Mel added.
“She’s not?” Avery’s mom said. “You’re not?”
She almost seemed disappointed—nearly as disappointed as Avery was that her resolutely normal mother was all too ready to accept her as a lesbian. No fuss, no look of shock or dismay. It was profoundly irritating.
“Then what is this about?” Avery’s mother asked.
Again everyone turned to Mel, but Mel was staring into the cover of the TV Guide as if it held great meaning. Mel held the key to this whole discussion now It was up to her how it was going to go.
“Nina made a mistake,” Mel said. “Avery’s not gay. I am.”
The silence that-greeted this announcement was the kind of silence that usually thrilled Avery—it was that loaded half-note pause before the devastating final chord, the time between the squeal of the tires and the sound of the impact. It wasn’t pleasant now.
“But you’ve dated boys before,” Mel’s mom said.
Mel shrugged.
“How could you date boys if you’re gay?”
“I didn’t really date any.”
“Yes, you did,” her mother said, a little more urgently. “There were a few.”
“For a few days. I never really dated them.”
“This is not as simple as you think,” Mel’s mother spat. “Don’t you understand that what you do is a reflection on us?”
“I can’t help what I am.”
“You are my little girl.”
“I’m still a girl.” Mel said it very quietly.
With Avery in the clear, the Dekkers were just bystanders now, watching another family’s trauma unfold in front of them. Mr. Dekker swung his arms wide, as if he was trying to get a group hug going. Nobody paid much attention to this, so he put them down again.
“I just don’t understand,” Mel’s dad said. He spoke quietly. He seemed so genuinely sad that no one spoke for a moment.
“It’s okay, Dad,” Mel said. She looked up at her father now, trying to reassure him.
“It’s not okay.” This brought Mel’s mother out of her short silence. “I’m not going to support this kind of lifestyle. Neither is your father, and neither is Jim. Don’t expect us to pay for your college or for your living expenses. If this is how you’re going to be, then you’d better be prepared for some reality, little girl.”
“Just stop,” her father said. “You’ve said enough. Be quiet.”
“I will not be quiet. Mel is my daughter as well….”
“I don’t like your threats.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a fact. After she’s eighteen, we’re under no legal obligation to provide anything. Let her find her own place to live. Let her try to find a job. Let her see what the world is really like.”
This direct assault on Mel stirred something in Avery, especially after Mel had just spared her. After what Avery had done, the logical thing for Mel would have been to take Avery down with her. But Mel didn’t do that. Because they were friends.
Avery felt a heat in her chest. Words were rising in her throat.
“You can’t be serious,” she said. “What’s reality, dumping your family and ignoring problems that are right under your nose?”
“Avery!” her mother snapped.
“Brendan is a hacker,” Avery continued. “You talk about it like it’s a major accomplishment. Richie needs medication, like, now. And you’re worried about Mel being gay?“
“That’s enough, Avery” her mother said firmly.
“It’s true,” Avery said. “Brendan hacks into sites and takes people’s personal information. He is a criminal. They know it. They talk about it—how he’s going to get some job with a company that hires hackers to help their security. He has a padlock on his door.”
“Okay, Avery …” Her mother was serious now. “You’re finished.”
“This is not about Brendan,” Mel’s mother said coldly.
“Are you saying being a criminal is better than being gay?” Avery turned back to Mel’s mom. “Are you really that dumb?”
This was a terrifying yet oddly liberating experience. Avery had never had a true smackdown with an adult before (well, at least one who wasn’t a customer), and the adrenaline was rushing through her system. But before she could push this any further, Mel stood up and politely excused herself. There was something strange about the way she was walking—it was a slow, straight gait, like she was making her way through shallow water with something balanced on her head.
Without waiting for permission, Avery bolted from the sofa.
Outside, the night sky was a light pink—a bright warning of snow. Mel was sitting in the middle of the lawn, gazing up at it. Avery walked over and stood by her.
“It shouldn’t snow in March,” Avery said. “It just seems wrong.”
Mel just kept looking at the sky. Avery took a seat next to Mel on the ground.
“Why did you let me off the hook like that?” Avery asked.
Mel turned to Avery and gave her a quizzical look.
“I just told the truth,” she said.
“We did date, though.”
“I know.”
“So you could have told them.”
“What for?” Mel shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”
“Because for me it’s permanent. Besides, you said a lot of stuff I’ve always wanted to say. You stuck up for me too. You totally went after my mom.”
“Yeah.” Avery nodded. “That was actually kind of fun.”
Mel smiled a little.
“I’ll bet there’s a really interesting conversation going on in there,” Avery said.
“Go listen.”
“That’s okay.”
Instead they stared up at the sky. It seemed to hang low and close. It reminded Avery of when they used to make forts out of blankets or sheets.
“Tell me something good,” Mel said. Her voice had a dreamy lilt to it. “What’s going on with your music stuff?”
“I have an audition Sunday morning at nine. I’m taking the bus down to New York on Saturday.”
Mel turned and looked at Avery.
“That’s great. What do you have to do?”
“Play a bunch of pieces. I have some kind of written test afterward at noon. Then I have to sit around until four to see if they want me to play again.”
“You’ll be awesome,” Mel said. “You’re the best.”
“I wish you could be there. I’m kind of freaked out.”
Mel smiled. Her pale skin was bright pink in the cold. Avery heard the door open, and soon her mom appeared outside. She came over to them and squatted down in front of Mel, then put her hands on Mel’s knees. “If you need a place to go,” she said, “you just come over. Anytime. You don’t even have to call.”
“Thanks,” Mel said. Her voice was thick.
“Are you going to be okay?” Avery asked.
“I think so.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Avery’s mom stood and took Avery lightly by the arm. Even though she didn’t want to leave Mel, she knew it was time—this discussion, in some form or another, had been on its way for years. Mel was going to square off with her mom, and she had to do that on her own. Avery watched her, even as she backed up to the car and as they pulled away. She also noticed something else. Mel didn’t seem that small anymore.
Mel sat on the lawn for a while after Avery and her family left, listening to her parents fighting inside the house. Strangely, this noise comforted her. It reminded her of being little. Some of her earliest memories were of hearing arguments in other rooms. She just thought it was the noise families made, no more significant than the mumblings from the TV or the grinding of the garbage disposal. It was only after her mother left and the house became fight-free that Mel realized how much she missed the sound.
Her mother came out after a while.
“Come inside,” she said.
“No.”
“I’m not playing around with this, Mel. Come back inside.”
“You don’t live here,” Mel said, a few loose tears dribbling down her face. “You can’t make me.”
“Are you angry at me, Mel?” she asked, her voice low. “Is that what this is about?”
“Why do you think this is about you?”
“Fine. Talk to your father.”
Her mother got into her car and left. When she was down the street, Mel got up and went inside. Her father was still in the living room.
“You look cold,” he said.
“I am”
She sat down next to him on the sofa. He wrapped her in the fleece throw they kept over the back of the couch and rubbed her arms to get her warm.
“I’m sorry,” Mel said.
It probably sounded like she was apologizing for being gay. That wasn’t it. She was apologizing for her mother and for making something in his life that he took for granted suddenly foreign.
“Your mom did have a point,” he said. “It’s going to make things hard.”
“Faking the rest of my life would be harder.”
He considered this.
“I know that this makes no sense to you,” she said. “But it doesn’t have to change anything between us.”
“Mel, you know I’m going to love you no matter what, right?” her father said, pulling her close for an embrace.
Mel couldn’t have felt more grateful.
“What about Mom?” she said, tears coming to her eyes.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s just mad that this is one situation she can’t control.”
“I think she hates me,” Mel cried. And this really seemed true.
“No, she doesn’t. She’s just … Don’t worry about her.”
Mel’s father kept her in his arms real tight, and they sat like that together for a long time.