When I got home, the kitchen was courtroom-quiet except for a few electrical hums. Mama Kate and Momma Jo stood on their respective sides of the kitchen island as I walked in and slid onto a stool.
Momma Jo leaned forward on the island and clasped her hands expectantly. “Please explain to your moms what happened over the last four hours that meant you couldn’t respond to a single phone call or message. Even though that is specifically why we got you a phone in the first place.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Mama Kate added, pulling up a stool.
Momma Jo raised a finger. “Wait. In this explanation, Montgomery, we will also expect some mention of what has happened recently that has made you so upset you had to slam the door on your moms, who love you and do not deserve this treatment.”
Mama Kate frowned. “Monty, we know something is wrong…”
“Okay.” I took a breath. I placed my hands flat on the smooth surface of the marble island. “I didn’t answer your texts, because I was at the Reverend White’s ‘Save the Family’ thing.”
“What?” Momma Jo screamed.
“Monty! Why would you go there?” Mama Kate gasped.
“Excellent question,” Momma Jo noted. “Continue, Monty.”
“I guess because … Okay.” I shifted on my stool. Apparently there is no comfortable position when you’re about to deliver this kind of speech. “So it all started … Wait.”
After so many jumbled conversations that day, I had this thought that there was no way I could explain anything in any way that made sense.
I took another, even deeper breath.
“Okay. You know there was this whole Reverend White ‘Save the Family’ campaign thing.”
Mama Kate looked at Momma Jo.
Momma Jo looked at me. “Go on.”
“I mean, I go to a superignorant school where the only thing anyone gets is sports. You know? Fine. But then there’s this campaign thing and it’s just … it’s like suddenly everything got more terrible. I don’t know. I mean, Matt Truit was always an asshole…”
Momma Jo and Mama Kate exchanged confused stares.
“You don’t know him, but he’s a homophobic asshole, okay? I think even with recent events I can still say that that is true. Okay. And then there’s Kenneth, and he’s the Reverend White’s son, and today after school Kenneth was standing there with his dad and I thought…” I took another breath. Like maybe a hyperventilating breath.
“You thought what?” Mama Kate touched my hand, like giving me a little push on the swing.
“I thought he was pointing me out to his dad. Because I have gay moms. But he wasn’t. But I didn’t know that. And I was mad. So I kind of yelled at him. Then I got in a fight with Naoki and Thomas, and Naoki yelled at me, and I walked away and I guess … I guess I just ended up outside the vigil place. And I just … I went in because I wanted to say ‘Eff you,’ I guess.”
“Did you?” Momma Jo raised an eyebrow. “Say ‘eff’?”
“Ummm.” I replayed the exchange in my head. “Sort of. I think I said ‘screw you.’”
“That could have been a pretty … intense experience,” Mama Kate said.
Momma Jo whistled. “How was the vigil?”
I smiled. “There was no one there.”
Momma Jo clapped her hands. “Ha! Well, there you have it! What do you know, Aunty? Not quite as homophobic as some people would think!”
“Yeah, I was kind of surprised. I guess it’s been kind of a surprising day.” Maybe surprising was the wrong word. Strange. No. Not strange.
“I didn’t know this religious stuff was upsetting you so much.” Mama Kate’s voice was a wisp, it was so small. She looked down at her hands.
“It’s not, like, just the religious stuff, really,” I said, shifting my stare to the top of our kitchen island, which was covered in bills. “Sometimes I get tired of always feeling like I’m from Mars or something. I get that there’s nothing wrong with who I am, okay?” I added, preempting the everyone-is-okay-including-kids-with-gay-moms talk. “I just wish more people got it. Like at school. Sometimes it feels like no one around here gets anything.”
“Oh,” Momma Jo scoffed, “it’s not an around-here thing, Monty. Anywhere you go there are going to be some clueless and stupid people. Get used to it.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
Mama Kate gave Momma Jo a look of psychic mom intensity.
“Okay. Mama Kate would want me to say, not everyone is clueless and stupid.” Momma Jo softened. “People. People who live in Aunty, who live in big cities, who grow up religious or gay or what-have-you. People are complicated. Sometimes it’s more than just ‘they don’t get it.’ Sometimes there’s more to people than you can see.”
Now you tell me.
The doorbell rang. Momma Jo pushed off the island and jogged to the front door, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t move!”
Mama Kate was quiet. Aside from the creak of Momma Jo’s footsteps, and the muffled sound of her opening the door, the whole kitchen fell under some crazy spell of silence. Even the fridge was uncharacteristically chill, not humming or shaking or doing that weird ticking thing it’s started to do after I slammed the door too hard with my foot because my arms were full of snacks. Staring at Mama Kate, I could feel every breath like a tidal wave.
“I didn’t want to tell you about the Reverend White stuff,” I said, finally, “because I know, with your dad … I know talking about that stuff upsets you. And it really—it’s not a big deal.”
“Monty.” Mama Kate smiled a sad smile. “Just because something makes me sad or upsets me doesn’t mean it’s a terrible thing I can’t talk about. It’s okay to be sad.”
“Okay,” I said, sitting up. “Sure. Right.”
How is it okay to be sad? I thought. It’s the worst to be sad.
My face must have looked all twisted or something. Mama Kate curled her hand over her lip. “You don’t think it’s okay to be sad?”
“Oh yeah, I mean, it’s fine.” I kicked the island softly.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“What are you afraid is going to happen if someone is sad?” Mama Kate asked quietly.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
In the hallway I could hear Momma Jo hunting for her wallet and cursing.
My toes were ringing.
They could leave, I thought. They could fold in on themselves and just disappear. They could not come out of the bedroom, ever.
“Crappy things,” I said, finally.
“Well,” Mama Kate said, “I’m sure having someone be sad is pretty scary.”
I swallowed hard. “Right.”
Like the edge of a cliff. A dream you can’t wake up from.
“I know,” Mama Kate said, “it scares me when I see you upset.”
“Aha! But it’s okay to be sad and upset,” I sniffed, pointing playfully, as I blinked through my suddenly sweaty eyes. “Right?”
“Right,” Mama Kate said. “So, maybe … maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if we were sad sometimes. Maybe it’s not the end of the world. Because we have each other.”
I watched her hand reach over and grab mine.
Mama Kate has the best hands. Maybe that was weird to think. But, really, they’re never clammy and they never grab too hard. Imagine having a mom with a bony, sweaty hand.
That would be terrible.
I could taste the tears on my lips. “I know it’s stupid, I’m just, sometimes I’m scared if it all gets too bad … I’ll lose everyone.”
“Oh, Monty”—Mama Kate’s face was all rivers—“you won’t.”
Then we basically just … cried for a bit. I don’t know how long. Then I wiped my nose on an oven mitt, which is gross, but I couldn’t find a paper towel, or a tablecloth.
Momma Jo tiptoed in and slid a box of what smelled like cheese-and-pepperoni heaven on the counter.
“We ordered before you came back from your vigil,” Momma Jo said, walking over to kiss the top of my head. “I don’t know if they serve snacks at vigils these days.”
“They have cookies,” I said. “But I didn’t eat any.”
“Good girl.” Momma Jo looked down at the box, then up at me and Mama Kate. I guess we were both sniffing a bit. “Soooo … we’ve had a good talk. I figure we can take a break and say we will continue this conversation on a future date. Yes?”
“Sure.” I went to pop off the counter to grab a plate, but Mama Kate had me in a bear hug.
Then Momma Jo had me in a bear hug.
Then Tesla came downstairs in her workout outfit, likely lured by the smell of cheese, and I guess then we had a really long, kind-of-cheesy family bear hug.
And then I had probably the best pizza I’ve had in forever.
* * *
Five slices later, I went upstairs to go online, to find Thomas and tell him what the heck was going on, and I sat down on the bed and there it was.
The cross.
The cross!
What?
I just about to lose my crap when I looked up and Tesla was standing in the doorway.
“You can have it,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t,” I said.
“Yes I did,” Tesla said quietly.
She had these jammies on. We have matching ones. From Christmas. Pink for her and blue for me. With the feet and the trap door in the back. She normally never wore them.
I wondered how much Tesla could hear me talking with the moms downstairs. Maybe it was just as scary for her, having a sister freaking out.
Tesla ran her toe in an arc over the floor. When she’s sad, my sister looks like me. When she looks sad and when she’s not jogging, our shared genes shine through.
“You can have a cross,” I said, feeling like more of a jerk than one would ever imagine possible. “You can do whatever you want. I mean, who am I to say…”
“I don’t want to be a Christian,” Tesla said, leaning into the doorway. “I just wanted to see what it was like. Like an experiment. Because other people do it and because I didn’t know what it would be like to talk to God.”
“What was it like?”
“It was okay, I guess.” Tesla scanned the debris of my room. No doubt wondering whether she would eventually discover her don’t-have-to-clean-to-be-cool gene.
“Well,” I sighed, “as long as no one was hurt.”
You’re one up on me, I added silently to myself.
“Yeah,” Tesla mumbled, her chin to her chest, “I did use it to pray to win against the Gophers.”
I picked up the cross. This one had smooth edges. The same mashed-up face, though.
I looked over at Tesla.
Geez, I didn’t even know she had another big game. Was it a play-off?
“How’d it go? I mean, did you win?”
Tesla frowned. “We lost,” she said, sinking to the ground.
“Sorry,” I said, lowering myself across from her.
Tesla started lightly pounding the floor in front of her with her fist, like she was flattening a pancake. “It was stupid. You have to train to win, not pray. Anyway, we’ll win next year.”
It was like I was standing on the business end of a batting range with no bat. Just lots. And lots. Of balls.
Flaming balls of You were wrong, Montgomery.
Nice one, Montgomery.
Way to misread everyone and everything, Montgomery.
Way to go.
Oh and did I mention you’re an amazing sister? That’s right because you’re not.
Apparently you can be someone who spends a lifetime on the Internet looking up stuff and still not know crap about the world around you.
“Okay, well,” Tesla said, scrambling to her feet. “See you tomorrow.”
“Hey,” I said. “Do you want the cross? I mean, you can have it. Even if you don’t want to pray to win. It’s cool.”
“No,” Tesla said, shaking her head.
“Okay, well”—I stood and walked over to my desk—“I’ll put it in a drawer for you. In case you want it for later.”
“Or in case you want it for later,” Tesla said.
“Right.”
I listened to her little foot pads as she walked back to her room and shut the door.
Then I opened the drawer again and looked at the cross. I took the Eye off my neck and shut it in the same drawer.