Except she doesn’t say Neil; she uses a name that hasn’t been mine for a very long time. Grandmother offers me a hand to shake.

“My name is Neil, Nana.”

“Oh, right. I just expected for you to finally be out of this phase.”

Shame fills my body, creeping up my neck.

“It’s not a phase, Nana.” I hate that my voice comes out quiet, like I’m afraid to ask for basic human decency. I look around for Mother, hoping that she’s standing nearby to say something, anything. She is standing nearby, and there’s no way she doesn’t hear what her mother says, but she still just stands there, like she always does, saying nothing. I’m only glad Wyatt isn’t here.

“Oh, she’s kidding, Neil,” Grandfather jumps in. Alone among my family members, he loves hugs and is hurt when he doesn’t get one. He pulls me down to his level, wrapping his big arms around me.

“I see that you’re growing your hair back out,” Nana says, taking a lock of my hair in her fingers. “You got this color from your father, you know. You can blame him for this.”

I’m not growing my hair out on purpose; I just haven’t felt like getting a haircut. Besides, it’s not even that long. The ends on the side just barely cover my ears.

“Okay, well, it’s nice to see the both of you,” I say quickly. “I’m going to get back to my table.”

“Oh, right, your mother told us you brought your boyfriend.”

I’ve never heard Nana say anything homophobic, but the way she says boyfriend sends a chill down my spine. Is she upset that I’m a boy dating boys? Or is she thrilled; does she see this as some fucked-up way of me reclaiming femininity?

Can her rotted brain even comprehend that sexuality and gender identity are two different things?

“Yeah, yep.”

“I’d love to meet him.” Nana stares daggers at me.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Never in a billion years. I catch Lindsay looking at me from across the table, talking to her own parents, and I send her every signal I can.

She leans over the table. “Hey, Nana! Is that a new blazer?”

“Yes, dear. It’s a part of the Chanel collection, brand-new, you know.” She pats her jacket, so proud, you’d think she made it herself. “And get your elbows off the table. A young lady has manners.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You see, I was visiting some friends in Paris, and we went to the headquarters—”

Lindsay nods her head to the side, giving me the signal to leave.

God bless her.

I owe her so much In-N-Out.

I take my opportunity, slipping away from my grandparents while Nana tells a story about this café in Paris that dared to serve her the wrong kind of coffee, and I walk back up to our booth. I wish I could say that I’m home free, that Wyatt is waiting for me, that our food is already here so I can quell my grumbling stomach.