Jagged Edges

Things were much easier in middle school. If you liked someone you sent them a note saying: 



And then those cute little boxes. I absolutely loved getting those even if they were from a girl. If that was the case I'd make a new box and label it 'gay' with a winky face.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, giving those notes was nerve racking. When you were twelve it seemed like your life depended on those little boxes. If the answer was no, though, nothing really happened. There was a bit of disappointment but life moved on. If the answer was yes, however, bam! You have a boyfriend.

I wish I could write Treason one of those notes. I wish it was really that easy. I mean, I'd be more than disappointed if he said no. I'd be crushed. Maybe it's a good thing it's not that easy. It probably wouldn't be that simple anyway. Treason isn't simple.

It's been about two weeks since the party and I became more obsessed with him every day. He's actually started eating lunch with us again and last week he invited me to spend study hall with him in the music room. I could tell that he was very proud of himself for doing that which made me proud as well. I didn't fully understand why but now I do. Clearly, Treason was making an effort to develop this friendship which was probably difficult for him.

Honestly, every time I expect him to zig, he zags in the best of ways. I found myself thinking about him more and more until it was starting to blatantly affect my daily life. I needed to talk to someone about it and all the obvious choices either wouldn't want to talk about that or wouldn't understand. All except one.

"Mommy," I call, walking into the kitchen where she's making dinner. The chicken and vegetables lay waiting on the cutting board, ready to be made into my favorite Haitian dish, Bouyon. 

"Gian, quelles sont lamentations? N'a pas je vous dire sur que?" (Gian, what are you yelling about? Didn't I tell you about that?) She scolds, throwing me a warning look.

"Sorry mama. Why are you speaking in French?" I ask confusedly.

"Je pense que nous ne l'utilisons pas assez souvent. Nous avons besoin de garder le contact avec nos racines bébé." (I feel like we don't use it often enough. We need to keep in touch with our roots baby.)

"Oh, très bien." (Oh, okay.)

"que voulez-vous?" (What did you want?)

"Well," I sigh, pulling myself onto the stool by the island. "Je tiens à vous parler de ce garçon."(I want to talk to you about this boy.)

"Treason?"

I blink, taken aback. "Comment savez-vous que?" (How did you know?)

"Une mère sait très chers." (A mother knows dear.) She winks, dropping the chicken into the pan. "Vous avez tout comme lui, oui?" (You like him, yes?) I nod in confirmation. "Pourquoi ne parlez-vous pas à votre père? Qui en sait plus sur les hommes que un homme?" (Why don't you talk to your father about it? Who knows more about men than a man?)

"Peut-être une femme qui est mariée à un?" (Perhaps a woman who is married to one?)

Mom pauses and looks at me, smiling wide. "You're clever. I raised you right."

I beam and soak in the praise briefly. It's not often that I say something that surprises mama so much she switches languages. Sighing, I prop my elbows on the counter and thread my fingers together. "I just don't know what to do. I like him so much."

"Maybe you should-"

"Mama, if you tell me I should tell him how I feel, you're insane." I interrupt. "There's a very big chance he's straight."

Mom laughs and shakes her head. "I was just gonna say that you should invite him over again. Get to know him a little better. And as for not knowing, why don't you just ask him? I've never known you to be subtle or has Annapolis changed you?"

I roll my eyes and hop off the stool. "I just didn't want to scare him off. He keeps to himself a lot. I will be inviting him over though. Thanks maman."

"Aucun problème très chers." (No problem dear.) She leans over and plants a kiss on my forehead with a loving gleam in her eye. I smile and turn to retreat to my room. "Gian! Je t’aime. Si la Treason est vraiment gay, he'd être fou pour ne pas comme vous." (Gian! I love you. If Treason really is gay, he'd be insane not to like you.)

The fact the my mommy is the one telling me this causes the effect to wear but I believe her nonetheless. She has yet to steer me wrong. "Je vous aime trop. Et nos remerciements.." (I love you too. And thanks.)

With that, I retreat back into the living room and sink down into the couch next to my brother. I'm not generally a patient person but I'm willing to try for Treason. He's a special guy, unlike any I've ever met. He keeps me on my toes. I just hope he doesn't lose interest and give up on this friendship. It's my favorite part of Annapolis.