"Grayson Allen Pierce! You have some explaining to do!" My mom shouts when she bursts through the front door, using my full name like Paris did last night. It makes my heart jump at the realization that it is time to tell her and Dad that I am gay.

"Do you realize how upset we were when we found out you left?" My dad screams, slamming the front door behind him.

Suddenly, a horrible knot in my stomach ties all my anxiety up like a rigid ribbon. Naomi must have told them about the letter. She must have outed me.

"No word? No note? Not even a call!" My mom chimes in, less angry than before, yet a scowl remains plastered on her face.

Relief washes over me. Maybe Naomi did not out me.

"It's...it's a long story. I think it would be best if you sat down."

I sound like a shitty doctor about to tell someone their mom just died as I direct my parents to the dinner table.

"I know where the dinner table is," my mom hisses, rolling her eyes with a biting sarcasm that stings my already vulnerable skin. Nevertheless, she reluctantly complies and sits down across from me, my dad sitting down beside her. They both stare at me with expectant looks, eager to hear what I have to say.

If only I was ready for them to hear what I have to say.

"Any day now," my dad mutters, clearly losing his patience.

I anxiously stand up from the dining room table and pace around the kitchen, tapping my fingers against the walls in a futile attempt to calm myself down. I knew this would be difficult, but I am seconds away from breaking into an uncontrollable surge of tears.

I just need to get this out of the way. Here goes nothing.

"I left so abruptly because I read the letter."

"What letter?" They ask simultaneously.

Right. They have no idea about the letter, either. I guess I assumed the worst from Naomi.

"You know how you grabbed the mail before we left? There was a letter addressed to me. Naomi grabbed it and read it before I could. When we got back from shopping, she confessed to stealing it. And so I grabbed it from her and read it and it was from Paris telling me that he was sorry about the fight we had the other day-"

"Wait. You and Paris got into a fight?" My mom inquires. She seems hurt that I did not tell her about the fight, but I could not tell either of my parents about what happened without potentially outing myself. Ironically, I am about to out myself right now, and I may vomit all over the kitchen floor. I need to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Yeah...and the letter was his way of apologizing-"

"So, you couldn't call him over the phone to discuss it?" My dad interrupts.

"Would you let me finish?" I snap, tired of their irate glances and desperate to get this over with.

My parents go silent, their anger turning to concern as they watch me start to cry.

"Paris did more than just apologize. He...he told me he loved me. Like, really loved me. Romeo and Juliet loved me. Jack and Rose loved me. And I realized I love him too."

For a moment, they say nothing.

Finally, as if ending an era of silence, my mom speaks, "But, what about Naomi?"

"I never loved her, never even liked her. I was just trying to convince myself that I wasn't-"

"Don't say it! You're just confused! You don't really feel like that! You can't really feel like that...you've never felt like that before!" My mom shouts, not furious, but confused, maybe furious at herself for never noticing before.

"Yes, I have," I assure her, speaking calmly, not angry, knowing anger will only make this awkwardly painful situation even worse.

"Aaron? You liked him, didn't you?" My dad asks, his tone flat like the life has been drained out of him. He looks at me with a distant gaze. For years I have hidden such a monumental part of myself from my parents. Sometimes I feel like they do not even know me anymore, and I am sure they feel the same way. There has been an unmentionable buffer among the three of us. It was always there, yet we all pretended that nothing was wrong. Now, they finally know what has been keeping us apart. They know that I have been holding my breath for years to make them happy, and it must be killing them inside. When I have kids, I hope they never feel the need to hide such an important part of themselves from me.

"You knew?" My mom shouts.

"No, dammit! At least, I don't think I knew! I don't know! You never once thought it was strange how much time he spent with Aaron? How much time he spent talking about him?"

"I thought they were just friends, Allen!"

"We were just friends! I liked him. He was with Beth, remember?"

"I don't get it, Grayson. It's like I don't even know you anymore!"

"Mom, it's not like I'm a completely different person! I'm still me, still the same boy you gave birth to, still the same boy you hugged when I had a nightmare. Still the same boy you made double layer chocolate cake for every birthday."

"No, you're not the same boy! You lied to me, you lied to us! You know how hard it is for us to process this, to hear this?"

"How can you say that to me?" I shout, the tears spilling from my eyes uncontrollably. I can hear Tessa wailing in the background. She can feel my pain. She can sense the tension in this room. The bond between our once happy family is breaking apart dangerously fast. Except, maybe the bonds started breaking long before this.

"You think this is difficult for you to accept? What about me? I didn't ask to be this way! You think it's easy for me to accept myself, to actually admit that I'm gay? Yeah, I said it. I'll scream it if I have to! It sucks for me too, so don't you dare act like the victim and say this is a choice I've made. If I knew I'd get dirty looks on the street for holding another guy's hand or have to hear thousands of people scream at me for being incapable of loving a woman, I wouldn't choose this life. Who would willingly choose to feel stripped of their rights? To lie awake wondering if the disgusting monster running our country could snatch away their rights to love, their rights to live, at any second?"

A long pause falls over the house. My parents have no idea what to say, and it seems up to me to break the silence. With a faltered breath, I speak up once more.

"I would only ever tell you this if I was 100% sure. And I am. I love Paris. When I kiss him, it is more electrifying than anything I've ever felt before. If you can't accept that, then I think it's best if I leave."

"Grayson, don't you dare walk out that door!"

"Why not?" I scream, louder than I ever thought I could in my entire life. I have never seen my parents like this. I have never seen my mom's cheeks burning red, lines of exhaustion on her face from all the tears pouring from her eyes. I have never seen my dad frozen like a statue, so different from his bubbly and goofy self. I really want my family back. I want to laugh when Mom burns the casserole. I want to play board games with Dad and laugh at his jokes while TV reruns play in the background. I want the comfort of life before I knew the truth, before I knew I was gay.

"Grayson, you know that we love you," my mom mumbles, sounding defeated as she falls to the floor, unable to make her way over to the front door.

"Enough of this! Do you hear yourself? You're making our son, our beautiful and perfect creation, sound like a mad man! What do you have against him? Why are you making him feel like he's not welcome in his own home? Listen to yourself, Deb, you're tearing Grayson apart!"

Watching my dad clear the tension among us is shocking. Usually he never wants to discuss serious topics or stir up drama. Now, he is being the most reasonable one in this sparring match, and I whisper a prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever deity is blessing me with grace.

My mom sinks back into her chair, shaking from distress.

"I don't want anyone to hurt him," she mumbles, "I don't want people to tell him his love isn't valid, that he is going to hell for something he didn't even choose."

Da guides me back to the dinner table, the tension dying down and Tessa resting her beautiful face on my thigh, comforting me with her cuteness.

"So you think yelling at him for lying to us is the best idea? You don't think it's been difficult for him to keep this secret for so many years, to wonder what we would do if he told us the truth?"

"I'm so mad at myself for not realizing it. How could I have been so clueless?"

Interjecting, I reach my arm across the table and squeeze her hand tightly, "Mom, it's okay. It's not like I ever made it clear to either of you that I was gay. I got used to hiding that part of me by pretending to like girls and even dating a few of them. I did so much pretending that I even started to believe that maybe I was straight. But every day I went to bed at night feeling like a liar for living like this, and I'm tired of feeling like a liar."

"Can you forgive me, Grayson? This is just such big news and it's all a little overwhelming," My mom says, giving my hand a squeeze back. I smile up at her, the tears coming back and burning my already cried out eyes.

"Only if you can forgive me for scaring the shit out of you two by leaving like that."

"Well, love makes you do crazy things, son," my dad says with a chuckle, wrapping his strong arm around my mom, bringing her close to his chest. My mom starts giggling, and then I join in, the swift breeze of laughter taking away all the anguish and sorrow suffocating us mere seconds ago.

"Does that mean I'm not grounded?" I inquire with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh no, you're definitely grounded, but you're allowed to go anywhere in the neighborhood," my dad says with a reassuring wink, knowing that I have no desire to go anywhere but Paris' house. Grounding me is more of a formality than anything because pretending to be straight for years has already been punishment enough.

My mom dries off the last bit of her tears, grabbing the tissue box from the kitchen and blowing her nose at least a dozen times, her face still a little red from all the sobbing. She and my dad walk over to me and we all embrace, and I would probably cry a little bit more if I was not already out of tears.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," my dad remarks with a sigh, rubbing his belly like the goof he is. My mom and I laugh at him, our family dynamic restored.

"I know! I'll make a casserole!" My mom suggests, but my dad and I both give her a resounding, no," and we all laugh again.

"I have a better idea. Let's go out and celebrate. It's not every day your son tells you he's in love," my dad teases, and my mom playfully slaps him with a tissue as he grabs the car keys and the three of us race out the door.

As we get in the car, relief washes over me, and everything feels alright again. All the puzzle pieces are falling into place, and balance is restored.