When You're Ready

Written by Kyla Baker of Richard Montgomery

Margot placed her hand on my shoulder suddenly, jolting my attention away from my own reflection. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do,” she whispered.

I turned to face her, shrugging her hand away as I did. “I know that,” I replied, unsure of who I was trying to convince—we both knew it wasn’t true. “They’re not going to care, anyway. We could hold hands in front of them and they wouldn’t care. I would come home from school one day and my mom would have hung a pride flag in my room, but she wouldn’t actually say anything. That’s just how she is.”

“Fin, you don’t have to convince me how your mom would react to you being gay,” Margot said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “We have all seen how she advocates for LGBTQ rights. It’s why she keeps getting re-elected.”

Although I knew she was right, there was something still eating me up inside. “It doesn’t feel right to tell them without Dad here.” I averted my attention to the barren branches of the naked tree that lived right outside my window. Just a few windy nights before, the rattling of the branches had startled me awake from a dream that my parents were still together.

Funnily enough, there wasn’t much to dream of from before the divorce. It happened when I was five, and since, Dad’s been in London, doing whatever he does, and Mom’s been here, working in the House of Representatives, and taking care of my brother and I.

“He chose not to be here,” Margot reasoned. “You begged him to come. It’s not your fault he decided not to show up. If he wants to miss out on your coming out, and Victoria’s first Thanksgiving, then that’s on him. Not you. He doesn’t get to be upset that you didn’t tell him first, or at the same time as everyone else.”

I shook my head. “It’s not like that. He can’t be here, there’s a difference. He has to work.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “He has to work somewhere he won’t even tell you about. You haven’t seen him in three years.”

“I know that, Margot,” I muttered, frustration building in my chest.

Part of me knew Margot was right to an extent, especially considering the fact that his first granddaughter had been born two months ago, and he didn’t have any plans to see her any time soon.

I tried to push that out of my head as I defended him, “He reaches out. He tries. He’s just busy. It’s the same reason why we don’t go there for Christmas; Mom has to work—” I heard my phone go off from across the room. “Maybe I should call him and tell him.”

“You can if you want to,” Margot said. “Isn’t it like, midnight in London right now?”

Walking over to my phone, I shrugged. “He’s probably up. We’re all nightowls in this family.” As I reached down to pick up my phone, I heard a knock come from the other side of my closed bedroom door. Before I had the chance to respond, my brother’s girlfriend, Clara, came in. She was holding two-month-old Victoria in her arms.

“Marisol asked me to tell you it’s time for dinner,” she told us. “She also told me to remind you that we have a limited amount of time before Tori starts crying.”

Margot answered for me, “We’ll be down in a minute.”

Without a word, Clara nodded and made her way back to the kitchen, leaving Margot and I alone, with my phone still plugged in and resting on the shelf. “Just call him in the morning.”

“I will,” I hesitantly replied. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Margot said. “Do you want to be alone to think, or do you want to walk down together?”

I shrugged once more. “You go down—tell them I’m coming.”

“Okay,” Margot replied, offering me a weak smile. “I’m sorry for being pushy. It really is your decision.”

“It’s alright, sometimes I need pushing.” I took a few steps closer to where she was standing beside my door and reached around her to give her a hug. “Thank you for apologizing, though.”

“I love you,” she mumbled into me, before breaking away from our hug and giving me a kiss on the forehead. “You don’t have to tell them anything until you’re ready.”

And just like that, I was alone in my room, glancing around at the framed photos and cluttered shelves that memorialized my life up until this point. On one wall, there was a collage of pictures, many from the previous summer. At the center of it, there was a picture of my mother, brother, and I at D.C. Pride. Beside that, there was one of Margot and I, her kissing my cheek as I held the little pink Build-A-Bear we had just made. Above the two of those were pictures of Sammy, my best friend, and I from the night I told him I was bisexual. Despite being with different people, at different times and places, there was one thing all of them had in common: I felt free, honest, and the happiest I ever had.

Without a second thought, I made my way down the stairs and found my seat beside Margot at the dinner table.

“Look who finally joined us,” my mother joked with a grin on her face.

Margot reached under the table and took my hand in hers, giving it a little squeeze. “Before we start eating, I have something I need to tell you,” I announced nervously.

“Okay, what is it?” My mom said, folding her hands over each other on the table and smiling at me.

I stood up slowly, releasing Margot’s hand as I did. “So, I’ve been thinking about telling you for a long time now, but it never felt like it was the right time, especially because of how hectic things have been since Victoria was born. I was hoping Dad would be able to make it here for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but the last time I talked to him, he said he doesn’t see himself getting the time off to travel until next year, and I didn’t want to wait until next year to come out so… I guess I’ll just say it now. I’m bisexual.”

My mother shot up from across the table and rushed over to me, embracing me in the tightest hug she’d ever given me. “I am so proud of you. I love you so so much. I accept you always.”

“I love you more,” I whispered as a single, happy, tear ran down my cheek. I felt Declan join the hug, and my smile grew. Before I knew it, everyone at the table, including Victoria, had joined our little hug circle, and I was sobbing. My mom was, too.

After a few minutes, I managed to squirm my way out of the hug. “The food is going to get cold,” I announced, reclaiming my seat at the table.

We all sat down again, and spent the rest of the night laughing and reminiscing on the funniest moments of the past year, looking forward to the next.