"Grayson Allen Pierce! You better be in this fucking house!" My mom shouts as she bursts through the front door, using my full name in quite a different context than Paris' teasing last night.

"I'm here," I reply from the dining room table.

It's time. I'm sure Naomi told them about the letter. About everything. But they still need to hear it from me.

"Thank goodness you're alive. What were you thinking leaving like that? No warning. No note. Not even a call. Nothing!" My dad exclaims, slamming their suitcases down beside the dining room table. The loud banging of the wheels hitting the floor tightens the horrible knot in my stomach, my anxiety swirling into a tangled ribbon.

"Naomi's parents had to drive over to pick her up! Can you imagine how embarrassing it was for us to tell them you'd left her stranded with us?" My mom complains, the anger from her entrance not dissipating at all.

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

"Whatever you say," 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 joining her side. They both stare at me with expectant looks, eager to hear what I have to say.

If only it wasn't so hard to make the words escape the lump in my throat.

"Any day now," my dad mutters, clearly losing the tiny ounce of patience he has left.

I anxiously stand up from the table and pace around the dining room, tapping my fingers against the walls in a futile attempt to calm myself down. I knew this would be difficult, but I'm seconds away from breaking into an uncontrollable surge of tears. I try to recall how comforting Paris' lips felt on my forehead. It was a kiss of courage. Courage that I need now more than ever.

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

"What letter?" They ask simultaneously.

I can't believe Naomi didn't tell them about the letter. I guess she was bluffing after all.

"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."

"Why would she do that?" My dad asks confused.

"Because 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 didn't tell her about the fight, but I couldn't tell either of my parents about what happened without potentially outing myself. Which is what I'm about to do right now. If I don't vomit all over the dining room table first.

"Why couldn't you just call him to discuss it?" My dad groans, clearly assuming the fight was just a silly dispute between friends.

"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 struggle to fight back cries, my eyes breaking with tears as I force out the next few words.

"Paris did more than just apologize. He...he told me he loves me."

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

"Gay? How could you possibly be gay? What about Holly?"

"She was the nicest girlfriend I could've ever asked for. But I never loved her either."

"I don't understand. This doesn't make any sense. You seemed so happy with Holly. Even with Naomi. You can't possibly think that suddenly, after all that, you're gay?" My mom shrieks, a combination of fury and sorrow in her muddled voice.

"But I've always thought that. I've always known that. This isn't some new development. And, even if it was, why should it matter? I'm gay and I've felt more of a connection just talking to Paris than I ever felt kissing either of those girls."

Before I can continue, my dad chimes in, "You liked Aaron, didn't you?" He looks at me right in the eyes with a resolute gaze. For years I've hidden such a monumental part of myself from my parents. Sometimes I feel like they don't even know me anymore. Ever since Aaron, there's been this unspoken buffer among the three of us. And, yet, my parents and I kept on pretending like nothing was wrong. Now they finally know what's been keeping us apart. They know that I've been holding my breath for years to keep them happy, and it must be killing them inside. When I have kids, I hope they never feel like they have to hide such an integral part of themselves from me.

"You knew?" My mom snaps, turning her head to my dad with a puzzled look on her face.

"Of course I didn't know! But I had my suspicions. You never once thought it was strange how much time they spent together? How much Grayson sobbed after Aaron moved away?"

"I thought they were just friends, Allen!"

"We were just friends! I liked him, but he was straight. And he had Beth, remember?"

"I don't like being lied to like this, Grayson. I'm your mother. I think I deserve the truth from you. What else have you been hiding from us? Are you even the person I thought you were?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I yell, absolutely appalled at her reasoning. 

I wanna laugh when Mom burns the casserole. I wanna play board games with Dad and laugh at his jokes while we all watch reruns on the TV. I wanna feel the comfort of life before my parents knew the truth. Why can't it be that simple?

"Allen, are you gonna let him talk to me like that?"

My dad says nothing, instead giving me time to respond.

"Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm a different person. I just didn't know how to tell you. I barely even knew how to tell myself."

"Yes you are a different person. You're certainly not the honest boy I raised. Do you know how difficult it is for me to hear this? To know that my son has been lying to me for years?"

"How can you say that to me?" I shout, pushing down the uncontrollable sobs that threaten to cloud my voice. Tessa wails in the background, sensing my pain. She comes toward me and nudges my leg with her nose. I run my fingers across her soft head, take a deep breath, and give myself the permission to say everything that's on my mind.

"You think this is difficult for you? 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? It's probably the hardest thing I've ever done, so don't you dare act like the victim and say I've lied to you. This is who I've always been, I've just been too scared to admit it. Too scared of dirty looks in the street. Too scared of violent bigots just waiting to throw a punch. Too scared of the disgusting monsters in office who would rather kill me than let me live openly. But what I'm even more scared of is keeping this part of myself a secret any longer. Cause that would truly kill me."

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 love Paris. So what if he's a guy? When I kiss him, it's the most electrifying feeling in the world. You two must be able to understand that, right?"

"Grayson, you know that we'll always love you. But-"

"But what? Listen to yourself, Michelle? The most important job a parent can ever do is love their child unconditionally. And you're willing to go against that just because our son didn't feel comfortable enough to come out of the closet? If anyone should be upset, it should be him. Cause we truly failed as parents if for one second Grayson thought we wouldn't be supportive of him no matter what."

Hearing my dad clear the tension among us is shocking. Usually he never wants to discuss serious topics or stir up drama. Now, he's 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.

"I don't want anyone to hurt him," my mom 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."

"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?" My Dad replies, outlining the illogical reasoning. 

"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.