“Do you like chocolate?” I ask, handing him the half-melted bar.
“Yay! Thanks!” He starts unwrapping the candy excitedly.
“Don’t tell anyone else, but you were my favorite. I’ll come back another day so we can draw some more, deal?”
Eddie gives me a thumbs-up and says something I can’t make out because he’s chewing. Then he turns around and runs off. I fold my gift back into its envelope and put it in my pocket where the chocolate bar was, and when I look at my mom, she’s all emotional.
“This is why I come back every week,” she whispers in my ear as she, Caio, and I walk to the bus stop.
When we get home, we’re all exhausted. The first thing I do is run to my room and hang my present up on the wall. I have a mural made up of my favorite superhero posters over my desk, and the drawing of me as Batman just claimed its space. To be honest, I don’t even care about Batman that much, but this drawing is awesome.
In case you’re wondering (which you probably aren’t), these are my top three favorite superheroes of all time:
Green Lantern, because he has a ring that can turn him into ANYTHING—literally—and to me, that’s the coolest superpower ever. This, obviously, doesn’t take into account the movie starring Ryan Reynolds as the Green Lantern, because that movie was one of the worst things ever created by mankind, right after Chicken & Waffles Lay’s.
Robin, who’s technically a sidekick and doesn’t have any superpowers, but I love him and this is my list.
Aquaman, because he’s the closest a superhero can get to being a mermaid.
We eat leftover pizza together in the living room, but today the TV is off. We’re all too worn-out to look for the remote.
“Caio, don’t even think about telling your mother that I let you eat pizza two days in a row, do you hear me?” my mom says.
Caio promises he can keep it a secret and, when he finishes his slice, excuses himself to go shower.
I’m alone in the living room with my mom, and she rests her head on my shoulder.
“I loved spending the day with you, son. You did so well!” She steals an olive from my slice of pizza. “I’ve never seen João Eduardo so happy. He’s always been a quiet kid who won’t talk to anybody. I thought it was so strange when I saw him run into the classroom with you in tow.”
“Sometimes people only need someone else to start the conversation,” I say, because that’s what I have been hoping for every single day since Caio arrived.
My mom seems absorbed in her thoughts for a minute, as if choosing which words to use, and suddenly she blurts out a question as if it is a confession.
“Felipe, you’re happy, aren’t you?”
“Most of the time, yeah. I am happy,” I answer. Which is technically true. But I’m not in the mood to open up and spill my heart to my mom. Not right now, anyway.
“Most of the time is a good chunk of time, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“And the rest of the time, when you’re not happy, you know you can talk to me, don’t you?”
“I know,” I say, uncertain of where she’s going with this conversation. “Anyway, today was fun and all, but now I need, like, twenty hours of sleep to recover from it.”
“Good night, son. Mommy loves you,” she says, still pensive.
I kiss my mom good night and take a quick and lazy shower, and when I get to the bedroom, Caio is already in bed, wearing his naval pajamas and reading the first few pages of The Two Towers.
“You can turn off the lights if you want. I won’t be able to read for much longer,” he says.
I turn them off and get in bed, and suddenly all the sleep in me is gone. Now that we’re in the dark, the confident and talkative Felipe takes over.
“So, what did you think of today?” I ask.
“It was fun! At first I thought it’d be overwhelming with all those kids, y’know?” Caio answers. “But in the end, it was totally worth it.”
“That’s what my mom always says. She loves those kids. Some days she talks about her kids so much that I even get a little jealous!” (Seriously.)
“Ah, but I would, too. Your mom is incredible! When she took me to the mall yesterday, we talked so much. I’ve never felt that comfortable, not even with my own mom!” Caio says.
I feel a little sorry for him and don’t know how to keep the conversation going, because honestly, what am I going to say to a guy who doesn’t like his own mother?
“It’s not that I don’t like my mom,” Caio adds, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s just that sometimes she can be so … complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“She’s way overprotective. I mean, I’m seventeen years old and spending my vacation at my neighbor’s house because she doesn’t trust me enough to leave me home by myself. I tried to negotiate, promised to call their hotel room every night to check in, but it was no use. By the way, I guess I never apologized for that, huh? Sorry I ruined your vacation. I doubt you’d choose to spend fifteen days locked up with me.”
You have no idea, Caio.
“Oh, come on! It’s all good. It’s not as if I had loads of plans,” I say with a smile, even though I know that Caio can’t see it in the dark. “It’s just that my mom only told me you were staying with us about three minutes before you got here.”
Caio laughs.
“You see?” I go on. “She’s not the perfect mom you’re imagining. Ms. Rita is a fraud!”
“I don’t know about that, but I can tell how much she loves you,” Caio says, and I find it so weird to hear someone else talk about my mom’s feelings for me. “For real, Felipe. Yesterday at the mall, she would only talk about you. About how responsible you are, and that you’re such good company, and great at choosing movies and guessing who will be eliminated from cooking competitions on TV.”
I feel proud because I am actually really good at that, and it’s nice to get a little recognition sometimes.
“But you know, that’s a mom thing. I bet yours also loves telling other people about you. They’re all like that!” I say, trying to make him feel better.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think she’s ashamed of me.”
“Why would she be ashamed of you?” I ask with genuine indignation in my voice.
“Because I’m gay,” Caio says, and in that moment the air in my room feels lighter.
Let’s make something clear. Knowing Caio is gay doesn’t come as a shock to me. I have good gaydar and have always known this to be true. I’ve seen Caio’s Instagram about twenty million times. I know what kind of music he listens to, where he hangs out, and even what filters he uses for his selfies.
And to be honest, I think that if Caio were straight, I wouldn’t be so in love with him. I like boys who are obviously gay because I am obviously gay, and dream of someone with whom I can be obviously gay together. I’m not super attracted to the straight-acting types (with a few exceptions, like Hugh Jackman).
And yet, hearing Caio say I AM GAY makes it all feel so … official. You know when Ricky Martin came out of the closet and everyone was surprised, not that he was gay but that he decided to say so? And all of a sudden, it was way cooler to listen to “Livin’ La Vida Loca” because Ricky Martin was officially gay? That’s how I feel right now.