I watched my mom lovingly cut up tomatoes on a small cutting board as she worked on a salad for us. I wanted to take one and bite into it, but I was patient. They were clearly full of juice, going everywhere all over the cutting board. The knife slipped so smoothly, making clean slices in the snappy skins.

In no time, the salad was prepared. She scooped some into bowls for us, and then set aside some for Sana, which she put into the fridge. She took these to the living room for us, and I brought along some tea, which she had also made. We sat down in our chairs, but she didn't turn on the TV like usual.

The first burst of flavor hit my tongue as I placed a tomato slice in my mouth, and my hand went up to my cheek in appreciation of the taste. I saw her smile in love at my sincere reaction.

"Is it good?" She asked simply.

I nodded hugely, my mouth too full to say anything. I dove in for some more, taking a big forkful of greens. She was grinning at me. I took a sip of tea, taking the cup from the side table next to me. The tea was also flavorful and full bodied. It gave me a nostalgic feeling, something so her. Reminding me of childhood and her warm hug. It made me tilt my head in wonder, enjoying in this feeling.

"Good." She was so pleased. "Now, I wanted to ask you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to, but I thought it would be good if we told your papa tonight about your feelings. I want to help you, and I was thinking a good way to do it is by being there for you as you did it. You won't be back for a couple of months, and I know you've been talking about your wedding again. Oh..." She sighed happily, that smile never leaving. "I've been so happy that you're talking about your wedding again, and your friends are excited, too. I want you to be able to do it soon, but I know you're anxious. I can understand why. I know what your papa's opinion has always been, but I don't know how much you know about it."

Memories of being on my teacher's porch and my papa shouting at her returned. That fear, the only time I'd ever been afraid of him. It made me pause in eating, that old hurt.

"Yes, see, I know it," my mom said. "I can see it on your face. You know more than I can guess."

It all came out. I couldn't help it. I lowered my fork to my bowl, letting it sit there. "Why did papa yell at my teacher that day? I can't figure it out..." I paused, and she let me. She waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt. I was grateful for that. "No, I think I don't understand. When I was little, I used to hear you two arguing about me. It would be late at night, but I heard it."

"Ohh, Tetsu. Oh, I'm sorry. We didn't intend for you to hear that."

I nodded, staring at the colors in my bowl. As far as I knew, them arguing about me was the only time they'd ever argued. Maybe they were good at hiding it, or maybe I was an issue that was so terrible that they needed to argue about me. Bubbling feelings of memories of being a child were coming up, so much that I'd hoped to forget.

She sighed hugely. "You have to understand. Maybe I can help. Let me see... Ah, yes."

I looked up at her. She was saying this carefully, calmly. It seemed measured and weighted, as if maybe she'd planned this. I was patient with her, like she was with me. I had no choice, wanting to hear this even if it was bad and made me feel hopeless.

"Well," she continued. She sighed again. This was obviously hard for her. I waited patiently. "Well, your papa means well. I don't know what you've heard, but the moment in your teacher's yard? He told me about why he did that. He was angry, yes, but not at you, or really your teacher, either. I know that's hard to believe."

"Who was he angry at? He made me scared of him."

She gripped her armrest, my face collapsing in sadness. "Ohh no. Te-chan, I'm so sorry. Don't be scared of him. He'd never hurt you."

I shook my head, returning my gaze to my bowl, my cheeks going surely red. "He already hurt me with his words." My lips went into my mouth briefly as I thought what to say. "He looked so uncomfortable at my performances, too. I couldn't shake that."

"Your papa didn't mean to hurt you, I want you to know that. He would never hurt you. He's..." She sighed again, her hand going to her forehead. My eyes went to her in concern.

"Are you okay?" I asked quickly.

She nodded, her hand still on her forehead. "He gives me a headache sometimes. He doesn't say much, but what he does say? It's difficult."

"What has he said?" I realized I wanted to know this more than anything. Earlier, when she'd started to talk about it, I'd wanted to know. But now? I had to know.

"Well, let me see if I can translate it. I know you know that he needs a translation sometimes. His meanings aren't always transparent."

I knew that very well. There were so many instances of this from when I was growing up. He was always hard to read.

"Let me see," she went on. "How can I explain it?" Her hand went down again, and I was relieved. She really was okay, though troubled. "Well, he tried to explain to me one time why he was so against your wearing kimono, and it suddenly all made sense. He'll never admit to it, but I promise you that all of this opposition is coming from love. You have to believe me. When I realized it, I thought, 'oh, you simple old man.' How can I explain this?"

My hand gripped on my bowl. My lips disappeared into my mouth again. "How is opposing my dancing any kind of love? How is saying he'd be embarrassed about my going to my teacher's school if I wore a women's kimono, love?" It came out much harsher than I intended, but maybe that was my real feelings. Raw, unattended. Needing to be said. Better to her, than to him.

"See, that's what I mean. He needs a translation."

I shook my head. Such a strange mix of emotions. Anger or sadness? "What kind of translation can there possibly be? It seems pretty straight forward to me. He was embarrassed. He's always been embarrassed of me. That's what that look was when he'd come to my performances, too. He'd look around at everyone, and his face would be one of complete embarrassment. I know that. That's why I couldn't bear to give you tickets to my performances anymore. I wanted-" I swallowed, speaking too fast. "I wanted to give you a ticket, mom, but I know you two are a pair. I couldn't separate you two, or he'd ask questions. Questions that I'm not prepared to answer. I'm just not prepared. I don't- I don't know what to do." Heavy emotions were filling me, and I didn't know what to do with them. My hand went down to the cushion under me, gripping it tightly for stability. I needed to get ahold of myself, but it was impossible.

"Is that what you think?" She sounded devastated, but I couldn't bear to look at her to find out. "Oh no... No, that's not it at all. He's not embarrassed of you!" She gasped. "No, that's not it!"

"What is it, then? You said it's out of love? That look wasn't love." I was deflating. Too vulnerable, like a scraped knee, the flesh underneath was now exposed and stinging with the open air.

"No, it was." She sighed again, maybe a hurt in there. I was sorry that I caused it. My eyebrows peaked, and I couldn't hide my sadness anymore. "It really was love. Look at me."

My face slowly went up, though reluctantly. It was so hard to do. What met me was a face so similar to mine. Devastated, as I thought, but also so full of love. Something my papa's face had been lacking for so many years.

"It was love," she said, full of a confidence that I didn't know was in her. "You have to know it was love. He wasn't embarrassed of you. He told me. He said... He said, he was so against you wearing women's kimono to dance, because he thought others would judge you. He wasn't judging you himself, he was afraid of others. He said to me one day, right there in the kitchen, 'what if Tetsu grows up and he can't get a job, because people know he dances at the school like that? What if Tetsu grows up, and people call him mean things? What if he grows up, and he has a hard life because of this? What will I do? What can I do to help him, if that happens? I don't have any answers, and that scares me more than anything.' I know the look that you're referring to. I saw it all the time. It wasn't a look for you. It was for others. He was worried they were judging you."

My mouth was open. No thoughts were in my head. There was only shock.

"Yes, I know," she went on, seeing this. "He's a very funny person, isn't he? I wanted to laugh at him when he told me that. That was my only reaction. I wanted to hit his arm and say, 'that was it the whole time? Why did we have to argue all the time?' But, he was opening up to me, so I told him everything was going to be okay. He wouldn't believe me. He's been worried for years. He's still worried. When you came out to us about having crushes on the boys in your class, he got even more worried. I told him that as long as you have the love from your family, that you'd be okay, but he wouldn't believe me. He really loves you. He's your papa. He only wants to protect and take care of you. Not only that, he loves Sana, too. He loves both of you, and wants you two to get married. He wants you to be happy, that's his only thought in his simple brain."

"Oh, mom..." I didn't know what to say.

"I promise that telling him will go well. I don't think he's going to understand, because he doesn't know what non-binary is. I'm not sure I understand completely myself, but Natsuko's been trying to explain. She really knows about it, doesn't she? But, I'm old and not 'hip with the lingo', I think. I'm trying."

"Mom..." I found myself smiling somehow. My hand went to my chest in sincerity. Trying to show her how much this meant to me. "I can explain it you."

"Please do. It will help me tell your papa about it. He won't know about what it is. I think he will be confused, only because he doesn't know what it means. He told me he barely understood what transgender is, when you explained about Sana-chan. I had to explain it to him, and he was very accepting of it once he knew what it meant."

"Are you joking?" A small giggle came from me, surprising myself. "He didn't know what transgender is?"

"No, I'm not joking," she laughed, following my lead. "That's what I mean. He's going to be confused. That's why I want us to tell him tonight. That way, I can explain it while you are gone and he can get used to it. I know you want to have a wedding soon, so he'll have time to get used to it and understand it while you are gone. That way, when you are ready to have a wedding, he'll understand it. There won't be any problem."

I nodded, smiling even larger, so the opposite of what I'd been feeling. So strange now, to be able to smile about it. She'd made me feel so much better, but of course I was still cautious. That old hurt was there. Could what she was saying be true? "That's really good thinking. Do you think it can really work?"

"Of course," she said, full of that mysterious confidence again.

I wanted to believe her. With her words, something felt fresh, like a sunrise coming out over the horizon. With my same smile on my face, I picked up my fork again. I speared a tomato with it, and it went into my mouth. My smile was making it hard to chew.

"Now, tell me more about 'non-binary'," she said, leaning in. "I want to know."

A small blush formed on my cheeks at her sincerity. Her kindness and love. I swallowed the precious tomato in my mouth. It reminded me of her nurturing sensibility, the same one she was showing me now. I nodded a small bit, coming up with what to say. I turned to her in my chair, and she was so eager to know. Her face was one of such full acceptance. It made my blush increase.

"Well," I began. "Non-binary is different for everyone."

She listened with unwavering support, as I told her things about myself that I still didn't fully understand. She didn't interrupt, and patiently listened. Her love fueled my voice, as I found a confidence that I never knew I had, too.