“No, shut up. My point is, what about the rainbow pompoms and tutu fiasco where you leaped out of the closet when Mom and Dad got home from work, announcing, ‘I’m gay,’ in a singsong voice while ‘YMCA’ blasted from the speakers. And then, and then, there was the dance. I’ll never forget the dance.” Asher chuckled. “That was fucking brilliant. The look on Dad’s face. He almost had a heart attack right there when you bent over and wiggled your ass in those shorts. Where did you get those tight little stripy things anyhow?”

“Online from this cute little gay apparel store. Gays R Us or something fun like that. I was trying to be creative. That was the most epic coming out announcement in the history of coming out announcements. Why did no one appreciate it? Do you know how hard it was to find rainbow pompoms on half a day’s notice? They cost me a fortune.”

“You used Dad’s credit card.”

“They cost Dad a fortune! Besides, I thought it would be best they hear it from me before Matilda gave them a play-by-play of my deep-throating skills—which are fucking amazing, by the way.”

“TMI.”

“Whatever. I give amazing head. Ask Ryan. No, I take that back, don’t ask him. We broke up, he’ll lie and say I’m a gagger or a spitter. I’m neither, for the record.”

“Atti, please stop talking!”

I sighed.

“Give them time,” Asher continued. “It will blow over. You’re being dramatic, as usual. You have to admit, it was kinda a shocker for them. Mom and Dad are a bit … conservative. You should have dampened the blow.”

“Can you stop saying blow? I keep thinking about—”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know! What is wrong with me? It’s like I’m flawed. How did you get all the perfectness?”

“Atti—”

“It’s been two months. Two! Mom won’t take my calls, and Dad canceled my credit card within three days. Ash, I’m serious. I’m broke. I can’t keep going like this. You don’t know what it’s like. I didn’t know before now either. We are two spoiled rich kids, do you know that? Fuck me, I’ve learned my lesson. Tell them to let me come home. I’m not gay anymore. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in my—this is the stupidest promise-making rhyme ever. Why did I not notice that before? Who would stick a needle in their eye?”

“Atti—”

“I’m serious. Who?”

“Let them come to terms with it.”