Fire and Rain [🗸]

3. wanderlust and gas stations

"let's go somewhere nobody knows our names."

"YOU JUST CAME OVER and now you're off again?"

Mom said this repeatedly. The day I'd come home from Josiah's and filled her in on our spontaneous road-trip plan, she'd said the same thing, and essentially repeated it throughout the entire weekend.

I was half-unsure that she was actually going to let me go; but she did. 

So, here I stand— right outside of the doorway, bags packed as my mom shoots out a million rules per minute: don't just talk to anyone, stick with your friends— essentially, the usual. Come back home soon. 

I don't want to, but I'd rather not tell her that. 

To her right, Dad just stands there, resembling some sort of background statue. He's simply... there. He's still smiling that default Dad smile, and simply nods every so often whenever Mom says something.

Finally, Mom smooths my shoulders, saying, "Have fun with all your friends!" A pause. "Who is it?" she asks, and Dad shrugs. She turns back to me, eyes brightening. "Azul, Josiah, Sadie, Zahra"— Mom doesn't notice my slight flinch before she plows on— "And... Wu's kid!"

"Elliot," I say. 

"Of course," Mom grins.

Elliot has told everyone his correct name and pronouns for over five years now, but Mom always skips around the entire thing, and simply calls him "Wu" or "The Wus Kid". It's smooth the way she does it. You wouldn't realize she was doing anything wrong until it dawns on you that she's never actually referred to Elliot as Elliot.

And here's the deal with Mom—she's not one of those people who are deliberately assholes. She never uses slurs or encourages conversion therapy or anything like that. Instead, she's subtle. Avoiding saying my best friend of over fifteen years' name, but not saying anything completely douchey. Pretending not to see gay flags on the streetlamps during Pride Month. Simple, little things that muddle the equation.

Shaking my head, I snap out of my deep dive into my thoughts and plaster on a grin. I shove my free hand into one of the pockets of my shorts before adjusting the strap of my tank. Inhale, exhale. "See you!" I say, and both my parents wave, Mom calling out more advice as I make my way down the front steps of the house and to the rental van that pulls into the space in front of my driveway.

Josiah pokes his head out of the window, offering me one of those wide grins. "We swooped in to save you."

I snort, shoving my shit into the trunk before making my way into the van. The interior's nice, a slight rusticity to it that I can't put to words. There are three compact rows—Sadie's in the passenger's seat and Azul is in the middle row, both of them already cackling about something.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Josiah says, making a gesture toward the rest of the car from the driver's seat. "Glad you could make it."

"Very vintage," I say, taking in the bright white interior and matching seats.