Boyfriends with Girlfriends (24 page)

“You can’t get much better than that.”

“So, we’re going to get together Saturday. Isn’t that when you’re seeing Kimiko? Maybe we should double-date.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure we’re ready to call ours a date,” Allie said. “We’ve still got a lot to sort out.”

“Oh, yeah.” Lance let out a long breath. “I guess I’m just excited—like I want to bounce around the room. I should probably take Rufus for a run. That’s what I’ll do.” He grabbed his sneakers to tug them on. “Call you later, okay?”

“Sure. Have fun!” After hanging up, Allie went back to the math she’d been working on, and her thoughts returned to Kimiko. Even though she wasn’t ready to call their meeting a date, she almost felt excited enough to bounce around the room, too. It probably would be a good idea for the four of them to hang out, at least for a little while, to help them all calm down.

On Saturday morning after Kimiko showered and dressed, she steeled herself to head downstairs, dreading her mom’s silent treatment. Over a week had passed since she’d come out and her mom was still sulking.

“’Sup?” Kimiko said when she got to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” her dad replied, looking up from the Japanese news on his laptop. “Sleep well?”

“All right,” Kimiko said, preparing herself a bowl of cereal with soy milk. “Where’s Mom?”

“In the garden.” Her dad nodded toward the backyard. “I spoke with her again last night.” Clearly, he meant he’d spoken to her about Kimiko. “I told her she needs to talk with you. But you need to talk with her, too. You both need to talk.”

“I’ve
tried
to talk with her,” Kimiko protested, even though it had just been small talk: “’Sup?” and “Later.” “She just ignores me.”

“Well, try harder,” her dad said. His tone was serious but his eyes were encouraging.

While Kimiko ate her cereal, she mulled over what he’d told her. Should she try to talk with her mom? Was it worth the risk of getting chewed out again?

Kimiko finished eating, rinsed her bowl in the sink, and peered out the window. Her mom was dragging one of her bucket-size potted plants across the brick patio. She paused to catch her breath, took off a garden glove, and wiped her brow. Kimiko placed her bowl in the dishwasher and glanced at her dad. He nodded as if reading her mind. Then she shuffled out the back door.

“Want some help?” she asked and made herself smile at her mom.

“No need.” Her mom pulled her glove back on and grabbed the pot’s rim.

Ignoring her mother’s protest, Kimiko took hold of the other side of the clay. “Where do you want it?”

“Why can’t you ever listen to me?” her mom snapped, letting go of the pot.

The rim slipped from Kimiko’s hands. She leaped back, gasping. The heavy pot thudded onto the brick patio, and the clay cracked to pieces.

For a long silent moment, Kimiko and her mom stared down at the uprooted plant, the broken pot, the spilled earth. Kimiko had suspected that trying to talk with her
wouldn’t go well, and it had gone even worse than she’d feared.

“Why can’t
you
listen to
me
?” she said softly.

Her mom gave her a sharp look, then bent down to sweep up the scattered earth with her gloved hands. “I
do
listen to you.”

“No, you don’t,” Kimiko insisted, her voice breaking. “Ever since I was little, I’ve tried and tried to talk to you, but you never listen. You pretend like you do, but you never have.” She paused to take a breath, struggling to keep her lip from trembling. “I always tried to be the best daughter I could be, but you never saw that. You could only see what you thought I should be.” She brought a hand to her cheek and wiped her face. “I’m sorry—really, really sorry, Mom—that I’m not the girl you wanted. But I never will be.”

She spun around to hide her tears—the tears she didn’t want to be there—and hurried back across the patio. It had been years since she cried in front of her mom. She’d thought she was over that.

As she burst into the kitchen, her dad glanced up with concern. “What happened?”

“I tried, Dad. I really tried!” She crossed the room, too upset to explain anymore, bounded upstairs, and slammed her bedroom door.

Why do I let her get to me like that
? Kimiko thought.
Why did I bother to even try to talk with her? I don’t care if she never speaks to me again.
Ever.

She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose, while her
head burned from the argument. She tried to call Sergio, but his phone was turned off; he was probably still sleeping.

“I had a blow-out with my mom,” she said into his voice mail. “Can you call me when you wake up? I really need to talk to you.”

She hung up, tossed away her tissue, grabbed a new one, and checked her computer to see which of her friends was online. She couldn’t find anyone.

Glancing down out of her window at the backyard patio, she watched her mom carefully prop the uprooted plant against a flower bed wall, sweep up the spilled earth, and pile together the pieces of broken clay.

“She cares more about her plants than about me,” Kimiko muttered.

Her mom must have sensed her watching her and glanced up.

Kimiko quickly drew back from the window and grabbed her motorcycle jacket, eager to get out of the house. The previous night, Allie had phoned and proposed that they make their get together a foursome with Lance and Sergio, “to help us chill.” Kimiko had jumped at the idea. She could use a little chill to cool her jitters. She’d called Sergio and brought him on board with the idea. But she wasn’t supposed to meet them till later, and she had to go somewhere
now
. Or she’d implode.

While she checked herself in the mirror, she heard the muffled sounds that came from downstairs. Her mom opened and closed the back door, returning inside, and began to argue with her dad. Kimiko padded softly across
the carpet, cracked her door open, and tried to make out what they were saying.

“Because she doesn’t realize what she’s doing,” her mom argued. “She’s making a foolish decision.”

Kimiko cringed.
This is hopeless; she’ll never understand.

“If that’s her nature,” her dad said, “you can’t change it.”

“No, but she can change,” her mom persisted.

“Maybe not,” her dad said. “Maybe
you
need to change—or lose her.”

Kimiko waited for a response, but her mom stayed quiet. Kimiko closed the door again and leaned against it, bracing herself to go downstairs. She didn’t want to see her mom right now, but she didn’t want to stay in her room, either. Could she sneak past them? Or just hurry out? She grabbed a new tissue, dabbed her nose once more, and swung the door open.

She leaped back, startled by the figure facing her. In the hallway stood her mom, looking equally surprised.

For a moment, the two simply stared through the doorway, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

“Can I come in?” her mom asked in a soft, resigned voice.

It took a minute before Kimiko could answer. “Yes.”

She stepped back and her mom slowly walked in, neither smiling nor frowning. Showing no emotion, only self-control. Her “samurai face,” Sergio called it.

Her mom smoothed the bedspread, sat down on the edge of the bed, and motioned to Kimiko with her head. “I’m here to listen.”

Kimiko remained standing, responding with a look that said:
Are you sure?

What should she say? Where should she start? Would her mom truly listen?

“I’m sorry,” Kimiko said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I haven’t turned out the way you wanted. I can’t change who I—”

“But you’re making life so difficult for yourself,” her mom cut in.

“No, Mom,” Kimiko said, a little amazed by her own calm. “
You’re
the one making life difficult for me. Everybody else accepts me, even Dad. Why can’t
you
?”

Her mom became quiet, pressed her fingertips against her eyes, and shook her head. “Ever since you were little, the entire time you were growing up, I kept asking myself, ‘What am I doing wrong? Why is this happening?’ This isn’t what I wanted for your life.”

Kimiko heard the sadness in her voice. She grabbed a tissue again, fearing she might need it. “What do you want for my life, Mom?”

“You know”—Her mom made a sweeping gesture with her hand—“what every mother wants for her daughter. For you to get married, raise children, work, be happy.”

“That’s what I want, too, Mom. Can’t you understand?” She felt like she must not be speaking clearly. “I just want it with a woman, not a man.”

Her mom cocked her head slightly, her eyes clouded with confusion, as if she were asking herself: But how would that work?

Seeing her mom struggle made Kimiko feel sort of sorry for her, as though her mom were the child and she were the adult.

“It’ll be okay, Mom. Really it will. You’ll see.”

Her mom raised an eyebrow, with an expression that was either hopeful or skeptical. “Do you really think so?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Kimiko couldn’t believe how confident her voice sounded. “I really do.”

Her mom held Kimiko’s gaze and at last said, “I’m sorry.”

It was the first time in a long while that Kimiko could remember her mom apologizing. The fire seemed to be draining out of the dragon.

“It’s okay,” Kimiko said.

Her mom nodded and glanced at Kimiko’s leather jacket. “Are you going out?”

“Yeah, later,” Kimiko said, no longer in a rush to leave. “I’m going with Sergio to meet Allie and another friend.”

“How is Allie doing?” her mom asked. Her tone seemed to lighten a little. “You haven’t invited her over lately.”

“She’s fine,” Kimiko said and noticed her mom’s face turn pensive again.

“Is she . . .” Her mom’s voice wavered as she seemed to grapple for the right words, “. . . a special friend?”

Kimiko wasn’t sure how to answer. “I think she is.” But they still had to sort it out. “I hope so.”

“Well, I hope so, too,” her mom said and stood up. She gave Kimiko a tiny smile. Kimiko smiled back,
relieved that their impasse was over. Her mom opened her arms and leaned toward Kimiko, giving her a tender hug. It surprised Kimiko; hugging wasn’t something her mom did very often. And Kimiko hugged her in return.

“Thanks, Mom,” she whispered and felt her mom’s body quiver.

“Just be careful, promise?” her mom said. And the tears flowed, from both of them.

After lunch Kimiko walked the three blocks to Sergio’s house, shaking out her arms along the way.

“Do I look all right?” she asked as they drove together to the mall.

“Love the shirt.” He grinned. It was one of his—or it used to be. “You look mighty fine. What about me?”

He was having his own jitters. It felt as if he were meeting Lance for the first time all over again.

Kimiko reached across the car seat and dabbed an eyelash off his cheek. “There. Now you’re perfect.”

“Yeah, right.” He turned in to the mall parking lot, pulled into a space, and shut the engine off. But then they both just sat there. Unmoving. Neither of them getting out.

“Ready, dude?” Her voice quavered a little.

“Yeah.” He reached over and grabbed her hand. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hand in return. It felt as sweaty as her own.

“Come on, we can do this,” he told her. “At the count of three. Okay? One, two, three!”

Simultaneously, they unclasped hands and threw open their doors.

Sergio examined his reflection in about a hundred store windows as they walked toward the food court. But when he spotted Lance, all of his nervousness seemed to slip away. He was fully ready to try it with Lance again, stepping into it with both feet this time.

“Hi,” Lance said, smiling wider than he’d ever smiled in his life.

As they began to talk, it felt as if they’d never broken up. And even though Lance tried hard not to get ahead of himself, he hoped they’d never break up again.

“My mom says hi,” Kimiko told Allie while the boys caught up. “She’s talking to me again—finally!”

“Oh, gosh, that’s great!” Allie said with a giggle. She felt so happy to see Kimiko—more than just happy, all fluttery inside.

“Yeah,” Kimiko continued. “I think she finally gets that I’m not a lesbian to defy her or punish her or anything. She even apologized.”

“Wow,” Allie said. “No more Dragon Lady?”

“She’s gone into her cave.” Kimiko giggled. “Hey, why is it that I always get the giggles when I’m with you?”

“I don’t know.” Allie giggled too, again. “Am I that funny looking?”

“No,” Kimiko said and her face added:
Hardly
.

“Sergio and I are going to get smoothies,” Lance said to them. “Or maybe some eats. Do you guys want to get something?”