Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Mom wore cosmetics sparingly and dressed like a hippie in flowy skirts. She went barefoot in the house during all seasons, played calming mood music twenty-four-seven, and lit candles she swore had healing properties. The one on the kitchen windowsill no doubt had some mystical powers.
She caught my stare on cue and pointed at the candle. “Lavender relieves stress and helps with congestion. I thought it might help in case your allergies flared.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I bit into a berry and wiped my hand on the napkin.
“Well, what’s the problem, my love?”
“Someone came to me asking for advice, and I don’t know where to begin.”
“What kind of advice?” She slid a cup of chamomile tea in front of me and poured some for herself.
I gave her a brief rundown of Blake’s coming-out quandary, wisely leaving out any mention that I’d actually had intimate relations with him. She wouldn’t judge the sex part. In fact, my mother could be shockingly direct about sex. But she might get the wrong idea and want to ask him over for dinner and that, my friends, was not going to happen.
“He seems like a curiously well-adjusted closeted person, but I think he might be lonely. And maybe miserable.” I pushed my glasses along my nose, then picked up my teacup. “I’m not sure why he thinks I can help him. I’m obviously unqualified.”
“Not true. You’re good at being you, Asher,” she replied kindly. “You’re comfortable in your skin, yet you know your limits. I don’t know anyone who exudes self-confidence quite like you.”
I gaped in dismay, setting my hand over my heart. “Me? Really? Sure, I know I’m smart and I dress well, but…that’s useless information to him.”
She hid a smile behind her cup. “Yes. But that isn’t what I was referring to. You know yourself and you respect yourself. Not everyone has your ‘take me as I am’ attitude.”
“I didn’t know I had it.”
“You do. And you have tons of close friends and confidants who know the real you. It sounds like he doesn’t have that.”
“Well, what can I do about that? I can’t find new friends for him.”
“You don’t have to. He has you, Ash. You’re his friend and you’re gay. I suggest spending more time together.”
“Oh, but…what if people mistakenly think we’re a couple? ’Cause we’re not,” I added quickly.
“That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? What others think. But it’s your skin, and you’re the one who has to live in it.” Mom set her cup on the island with a loud clink.
“Him, not me. I’m fine.” I put my hands in the air in surrender.
“I know, I know. Here’s a thought…suggest a three-part plan. Step one, spend time together and…” She paused meaningfully before adding, “have him introduce you to his friends and you can introduce him to yours. George, Tommy, Holden, and Topher are wonderful guys. They’d welcome him.”
Oh. My. God. Talk about awkward. I could just imagine strolling into the house with Blake, who my friends thought was Jake.
I hopped off my barstool. “Is that necessary?”
“The best way to learn to get comfortable with an idea is slow immersion.”
“Starting with me?”
“Yes. You. Like I said, you’re comfortable in your skin. Just being around you will help more than you know.”
I furrowed my brow, completely unconvinced. “And then what?”
“Step two, suggest that he begin dialogues with trusted friends and family members to find out where his support is and once he knows and feels ready—step three…come out.”
“A three-part script,” I repeated thoughtfully. “That sounds easy and yet complicated at the same time.”
“It can go either way. But we’re talking about basic psychology.” She tapped her fingernails on the island decisively. “See, most humans hover before acting. And for some reason, we get very hung up on what others think of us. The truth is…we’ll never be free to be ourselves until we let go of that notion.”
Sage advice indeed.
“Thank you. I can work with this.”
Mom quirked a brow. “Excellent. Now…tell me about you. How’s work? How are your friends? Are you all ready to graduate?”
I waved dismissively and nodded. “Work is exciting and titillating. My friends are doing well, and we still have six weeks till graduation. We have midterms and senior projects due before we think about finals. I’m certain everyone will be more than ready to matriculate.”
Her smile broadened to a wide grin. “I’m happy to hear that.”
“And what about you?” I asked, somewhat stiffly.
“I’m doing very well, thank you. I have a few house issues to contend with, though. Like a leaky faucet that management hasn’t bothered fixing. If they don’t send someone over this afternoon, I’m going to call my own plumber and send them the bill. And…I’m in the middle of a DIY project. I’m building bookshelves in my home office. Want to see?”
“Yes, certainly.”
I followed Mom down the short hallway to her office. As in the living area, the high ceilings and the wall of windows behind her desk let in a ton of sunlight.