Bottled Up Secret Read online

  “I will, I will. He knows where the food is.”

  I grab some Cool Ranch Doritos from the cupboard and a bottle of water from the fridge and head downstairs with Kara. After sitting down on the couch in her basement and turning on the TV for background noise, we get to business.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Let’s get the bad story out of the way. My mom.” This is the third time I’m telling the story today, and I really don’t feel like going into the details again, so I recap as quickly as possible.

  Kara offers her always supportive and logical advice. “Okay, your mom is probably in disbelief and doesn’t want it to be true, so right now she will say anything to try to snap you out of it. But as time goes on, she’ll realize it’s not something that’s going to change.” I nod. That’s basically what Natalie said too. “I think the good news is that it’s out of the way. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  “That’s true. All right, I’ve thought about this way too much today. Let’s move on to the fun news.” I’ve been waiting to tell someone this and am so excited to finally spill my guts out to her.

  “Okay wait, before you say anything, please tell me that I’m not the first person you’re telling this.” I smile at her. “Brendan. Our friends are going to hate me.”

  “I know, I know. But Kara, this news…I won’t be telling anyone else. I want to, trust me. The only reason I can tell you is because I got permission from the person that this thing involves.”

  She scrunches her forehead, trying to figure out what it is that I’m about to tell her. “Okay, I have no idea where this is going. Shoot.”

  “Okay. I’m trying to decide whether I should ease into this news or just dramatically say what it is and then explain how I got there.”

  “The latter. Duh.”

  I laugh. “Okay, ready? I’m dating Mark Galovic.”

  Her jaw drops and is frozen for a few seconds. “Oh…my gosh.” I sit in front of her smiling. “Wait, how long have—?”

  “Like two weeks. Since the night of the basketball game, actually.”

  “Really? You guys are good; I had no idea.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’ve been acting my butt off when I’m with him in front of other people.”

  “Okay, I still need an explanation. How did this happen? Apparently he did a one-eighty from New Year’s?”

  I tell Kara the details of Mark’s reveal to me and how we’ve managed to keep it a secret thus far.

  “Wow,” she says. “So many questions. First, none of his friends know that he’s even gay, right?”

  “Right. And he’s actually never said that he’s gay. I think he felt pressure to define his sexuality because of the feelings he has for me, but I told him not to worry about it, so I think he’s shelved that for a while.”

  “I can understand that. For you, it was easy to accept that you’re gay, right? Like, it wasn’t this long internal struggle.”

  “Yeah, I mean, I suppressed it all the time growing up, but once I let all of that suppression go last year, it was easy for me to say, ‘Okay, I’m gay.’ There was no ‘Maybe I’m bi or maybe this is a one-time attraction to a guy.’”

  “Okay, next question. Have you been able to hang out with him one-on-one a lot? What do you tell your mom?”

  “A pretty good amount so far. Either after school or on the weekends…like last night when I lied to you.”

  “You jerk.”

  “And then I tell my mom that I’m hanging with you or Natalie or whomever. But now that she knows I’m gay, it’s going to be a lot harder, which is where you come in.”

  “Oh gosh. I’m your go-to alibi now, aren’t I?”

  “Pretty much. The bottom line is if my mom gets crazy enough to call you or your parents and asks if we were together on such and such night, say yes.”

  “Great.”

  “I doubt it will ever come to that. I don’t know how this is going to play out.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine, but if I were you, I’d think about what you’d say if you get caught. Do you admit it? Do you say Mark is a friend?”

  “You’re right. I’ll think about all the scenarios that could play out. It’s like an improv class. Fun.”

  “Totally. Okay, next question. How’s it going? Do you really like him? Is it what you expected?”

  “It’s amazing. He’s so nice, and funny, and cute. I could go on and on.”

  “Okay, let’s get juicier. Have you guys done anything physical?”

  I laugh. “It’s been two weeks.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Just kissing, which is amazing, by the way. You’ve seen his lips. They’re as soft as they look. But we’re taking things slowly since it’s the first experience for both of us.”

  “Yeah, I figured. But even if you wanted to go further, where would you do it? I mean, you never hang out at each other’s places, right? It’s always out in public.”

  “It’s funny that you say that because Mark actually just mentioned hanging out at his place next week for the first time. He doesn’t think his parents would suspect anything.”

  “Oh boy, meeting the parents,” Kara says.

  “I know. But they’ll think I’m a friend so I won’t feel the pressure to impress…I hope?”

  “Well, I think that would be nice. It would probably get old hanging out in public where you can’t show affection toward each other.”

  “Yeah. Even just watching a movie on the couch at his place would be so nice. And he said he and his friends always hang out in the basement so if he and I did that, his parents wouldn’t think twice about it.”

  “Perfect. Then you can get privacy without worrying.”

  *

  The next week at home is tense, to say the least. My mom and I keep our talking to a minimum, and when we do speak, our words have a hint of passive aggressiveness. Fortunately, she doesn’t bring up the gay thing at all. I’m not sure what else there is to say at this point. She made her feelings crystal clear the other day.

  This whole situation would be so much easier if it weren’t just her and me at home. If only one of my sisters still lived here, she’d be able to buffer the situation without even realizing it.

  Being the youngest sibling in a family is great in many ways. I was spoiled and babied when I was younger, constantly getting attention. I was also a bit overprotected, but in a caring way. My sisters tell me how my dad used to always call home from work to ask how I was doing. They joke that he didn’t care about them—just about his baby boy. I felt a constant wave of love.

  But as I got older, I noticed that the attention was still on me, but in a somewhat overbearing way. I’m sure my sisters look at me as a naïve seventeen-year-old who needs guidance and advice even when I don’t ask for it. They will always be older than I am. Therefore, they will probably always think they know better than I do.

  For a little while, I was considering majoring in musical theater at college. Performing Arts is my strongest passion, so naturally I was considering whether I could make a career out of it. Ultimately, I determined that it wasn’t the right path for me, but instead of letting me figure that out myself, my sister, Phoebe, told me I was making a mistake. Her approach wasn’t delicate, either. It was blunt and direct, making it seem like I was stupid for ever thinking that theater would be a good choice.

  Maybe I’m being oversensitive. I wish my feelings and thoughts weren’t automatically dismissed because of my age. I would have appreciated her input if she had said, “Have you thought about this?” or “What if this happens?”

  I’m not saying that being the youngest is the hardest. Being the oldest actually seems even worse. I think about how my sister, Sarah, had to step up when my dad died. She had to help my mom plan the wake, the funeral, and God knows what else. Luckily, I was shielded from all that. Plus the oldest one seems to have the strictest rules because the parents are paranoi
d. As the youngest, I’ve had barely any rules. Unfortunately, I get the sense that that might change now that my mom knows I’m gay.

  Chapter Eleven

  “They’re going to love you,” Mark says to me as I try to pick an outfit for the night. “And remember, they don’t know we’re dating, so don’t feel pressure to impress them. To them, you’re just another friend.”

  “I know.”

  “All right, but you still sound nervous.”

  “I’m so nervous. I’m not worried about them liking me. You know parents love me.”

  “He says modestly.”

  I laugh. “I’m worried that they’re going to suspect something is going on with us.”

  “How?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. They could get the sense that I’m gay and then realize that you and I have hung out a lot recently, and then put two and two together.”

  “No. My parents don’t think that way, you’ll see. They know Chris and I are friends but have never once asked me about our friendship.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Just be yourself. Besides, I’ll introduce you to them, we’ll have a casual dinner, and then we can go downstairs and have privacy.”

  “Okay,” I say, feeling slightly better. “And would they come down to check up on us?”

  “No, they’ll leave us alone. I have friends over all the time. I’ve never betrayed their trust, so they’ve always given me my space.”

  “Okay.”

  “Pick an outfit yet?” he asks. I can imagine his teasing smile as he says it.

  “Nope.”

  “Wear something tight to show off your arms.”

  “How about a tank top?”

  “Even better.”

  “All right, I’m going to shower and get ready. Seven o’clock?”

  “Yes!”

  “Okay, see you soon!”

  Seconds after I hang up my phone, I hear a knock on my door. Crap. “Yeah?” I say.

  My mom opens the door. “Who were you talking to?” How long has she been standing there? What did she hear? She was downstairs when I started talking to Mark but somehow walked upstairs without my noticing.

  Instead of lying, I decide to push back a little. “Why do you always ask me that?”

  “Because I want to know who my seventeen-year-old son is talking to.”

  “I was talking to Kara. We’re hanging out tonight just like we do every weekend. You know I don’t drink, you know I don’t smoke, you know I don’t do drugs, and I’ve told you multiple times that I’m a virgin. What else do you want from me?”

  “I want to make sure you’re not hanging out with some guy, because if you are, it has to stop. Enough is enough.”

  “Nope, no guy. I guess you want me to be single for the rest of my life, right? Or maybe I should marry a girl?”

  “I want you to get past this phase and snap back into reality,” she says.

  It’s my fault for opening up this can of worms right now, but I refuse to let her ruin my night. I decide to end the conversation.

  “I have to shower,” I say.

  Fortunately, it works. She leaves my doorway and heads to her bedroom. I finally settle on an outfit when I hear my sister, Maggie, call my name from downstairs.

  “Yeah?” I yell back.

  “Can you come here for a minute?”

  I bolt downstairs to find her sitting in front of the computer.

  “Come here.”

  “What?” I say, realizing she wants to show me something on the computer.

  “I just pulled up ‘Recent Files,’” she says quietly, “and this is what’s in there.”

  I bend down to get a closer look at the name of the files. The first two are Word documents: “AP French Lit Essay 6” and “Research Paper Draft v3.”

  The next three are picture files. My face turns white as I read the graphic sexual descriptions. I am frozen in shock. How did this happen? How am I so stupid as to forget to delete these files forever? I’m losing it. I don’t move until Maggie says something.

  “I don’t care, but you probably want to delete these before Mom sees.”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding. I’m so mortified that I can’t stand there for another second. I head upstairs and immediately go into the shower. Please let Maggie be gone when I get out, I think. I don’t want to face her again, at least not today.

  After showering, I get ready for my night with Mark. I figure as long as I stay upstairs in my room, I’m safe.

  It takes about twenty minutes, but finally my state of denial ends, and I’m able to accept what just happened. Now it’s time for me to look at the bright side. First, my mom did not find these. If she had, it would have been awful. Second, Maggie seemed unfazed by it. Clearly she’s not shocked to know that I’m into guys. That’s one less person to whom I have to worry about coming out.

  By the time I’m ready to leave, I’m able to put the last hour behind me. My focus returns to my night with Mark and my introduction to his parents, as if that makes me feel less stressed.

  I park my car on the street directly outside of his house and take a deep breath before getting out. With each step toward his front door, my heart rate increases. I finally make it to the door and knock three times. Please let Mark answer and not his parents.

  The door opens to reveal Mark smiling. “Hey, Brendan, what’s up?”

  “Hey, not much,” I say. I start to go in for a hug but then remember where I am. Whoops. We’re just friends tonight, I remind myself as my arms come back down to my side.

  He laughs before whispering, “You’re nervous.” Then in full voice he says, “Come on in.”

  I walk behind him through the foyer into the kitchen to find his mom at the stove with her back to us. She has the same blond hair as Mark and is also almost as tall as he is.

  “Mom, this is Brendan,” Mark says to her. She turns around to look at me.

  “Brendan, hi. How are you?” she says before shaking my hand.

  “Hi, I’m good. Nice to meet you,” I say with a big smile.

  “You too. Now you’re friends with Chris, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ve known him since grade school.”

  “Oh, wow. And then you do theater with him too?”

  “Right,” I say, noticing that the kitchen opens up into a large living room. I do a quick scan of the area but can’t see Mark’s dad anywhere. I pray he’s as nice as Mark’s mom.

  “Are you guys hungry yet?” Mrs. Galovic says. “I’m making pasta.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great,” I say. Thank God she’s cooking something I like. Based on my palate, the odds were not in her favor.

  “When will it be ready?” Mark asks his mom.

  “We’re waiting for your dad and sister to come home, but it shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  “Okay, we’re going to go downstairs,” Mark says. “Let us know when it’s done.”

  I wait until we’re all the way down the basement stairs before I let out a huge sigh of relief.

  He laughs. “Are you good? Harmless, right?” I nod. “Oblivious, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, now come here,” he says as he pulls me into his arms and gives me a kiss. We keep kissing as we move to the couch.

  “Now I have to impress them through a whole dinner,” I say between kisses.

  “Piece of cake. And we’ll eat fast so we can get back to this.”

  About five minutes later, we hear the basement door open, which scares the crap out of me as I scoot away from Mark.

  “Mark?” his mom says.

  “Yeah?”

  “Dinner’s ready. You want to come up?”

  “Okay.”

  I stand up but realize my make-out session with Mark has caused quite the bulge in my pants. “Crap, hold on,” I say. “Let me readjust.”

  I notice that he’s in the same predicament.

  “Okay, think of something non-sexual,” he says, laughin
g.

  “Dead puppies, dead puppies.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what they teach you in theater if you have to be serious in a scene but can’t stop laughing,” I explain.

  “Okay, you go with that while I think of history class.”

  I close my eyes for a few seconds. “All right, I’m good,” I say after looking down at myself. “Well, good enough.”

  “Okay, walk slowly. I need a few more seconds.”

  I lead the way as we creep up the stairs. Once we get to the top, I make Mark go ahead of me. We get to the kitchen and find Mark’s dad and sister sitting at the table while Mrs. Galovic is near the stove again.

  “Dad, Eva, this is Brendan,” Mark says.

  “Hey, Brendan,” Eva says. She knows me, but we’ve never officially met.

  Mark’s dad looks at me. “Brendan, nice to meet you,” he says, reaching out his hand.

  “Thanks, you too.”

  “Sit down, guys,” Mark’s mom says. “I’ll bring everything over.”

  I take a seat to the right of Eva, diagonally across from Mr. Galovic, who is reading the newspaper, while Mark sits to the right of me at the head of the table.

  “Brendan, are you doing Anything Goes?” Eva asks.

  “Yeah, we started rehearsals this week.”

  “What part did you get?”

  “Billy.”

  “Nice!”

  “Is that a big part?” Mrs. Galovic asks.

  “It’s the lead, right?” Eva says to me.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s great,” Mrs. Galovic says as she brings the last dish of food to the table.

  “Why didn’t you audition?” I ask Eva. Talking to her calms my nerves while I try to get a read on Mark’s dad, who continues to look down at his paper.

  “I couldn’t. I do soccer in the spring.”

  Mark’s mom sits across from me next to Mr. Galovic, which prompts him to fold up the newspaper and toss it on the counter behind him.

  “Looks great,” he says, eyeing the food.

  “Mark, start,” Mrs. Galovic says, handing the bowl of pasta to him.

  After a few minutes of family chitchat, during which I sit quietly and observe, the questioning turns to me.