My phone chimed and I pulled it out of my pocket. Tasha was due back from France today and I was wondering if she would text me, but it wasn’t Tasha. It was an email from my mom with the details about her trip to San Francisco.

“Bad news?” Steph asked.

“No, just my mom.”

“From the look on your face it doesn’t seem good.”

“She’s visiting San Francisco next week. I’m going to meet her at her hotel.” I scrolled through the email. “The Fairmont.”

“Fancy.”

“That’s my mom.”

“She’s not coming up here?”

“No.” I put the phone in my back pocket and moved out of the way as Steph closed up the shed.

“I get the impression your relationship with your mom isn’t all that great,” Steph said.

“We’re not that close. She’s not around much.” Steph and I walked around the house and started down the path to the street.

“Do you think she’d be okay with you coming out to her?” Steph asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“I’m not saying you have to, I was just wondering how you think she’d react.”

“I don’t think my mom is conservative. She’d probably be okay with it, but I can’t imagine telling her. Like, what do you do, just say it?”

Steph stopped at the front gate. “It depends on the situation but yeah, basically. Have you thought about telling your grandma?”

The idea alarmed me in a way I hadn’t expected. “No.”

“Maybe you should start with her, not your mom,” Steph suggested. “Joan has always been fine with me.”

I must have looked dubious because Steph said, “You don’t have to say anything to anyone till you’re ready.” Then she added, “So, you’re coming to Roxy’s party?”

I liked the way she was looking at me, with that smile in her eyes. “You want me to come?” I asked.

The corner of her mouth curved up. “Yes.”

A warm curl in my belly. “Okay, I’ll come.”

She stepped toward me to hug me goodbye. “I’ll see you on Sunday for movie night.”

“See you Sunday,” I said.

I wondered if I would ever get used to hugging her. It never felt casual.

—

Lisa was noticeably grouchy on Sunday night. When I arrived, Steph and Mel were making pizza as usual, but Lisa was out in the courtyard, smoking. “We’re watching Forbidden Planet,” she told me as I approached.

I wasn’t sure whether I should go into the apartment without her or whether she expected me to keep her company. “What’s it about?” I asked.

“Dudes go to an alien planet, discover one hot lady who swims naked and a machine that produces monsters from the subconscious. Sorry, spoiler alert.”

“Sounds . . . unique.”

“It’s inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest.”

“Oh.” I knew nothing about The Tempest.