Paris Wills is a dreamer. His father always said he got it from his mom, an artist who was unlike any other. Her virtue was painting, and Paris' is poetry. No matter where he is, Paris finds inspiration for his poems.
In the summer after his sophom...
"Good morning sleepyheads," my mom coos as she opens my bedroom door, spewing rays of the morning light in. I reach my hand out to touch Paris but find nobody there. Eventually, my eyes find his sleeping body on the windowsill, and a wave of relief overcomes me.
"What time is it?" I ask with a yawn, my naked legs tangled up in a web of comforters and blankets.
"Almost 11 AM. We figured you guys were up late last night."
I nod, woozy, hazy, and too tired to reply.
"Come on. It's time to get up," my mom adds, sitting down on the bed beside me, brushing a lock of my blond hair out of my face.
"Just let Paris sleep a little more."
My Mom smiles and ruffles up my hair.
"You love him, don't you?"
"Yeah...I do," I reply, never more sure of something in my entire life.
"How long have you known?"
"That I love him?"
My Mom laughs softly, and I can see the pensive look in her eyes.
"No, I mean, how long have you known that you're gay?"
"Since seventh grade."
My mom whimpers and tears start to fall down her face. She tries to capture them, wiping them away hastily with her fingers.
"Your dad was right. It was Aaron, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," I respond bashfully, my skin taking on a soft pink hue.
"I wish I knew. Honey, I wish I knew the moment you were born. I mean, all those years, all those times pressuring you and asking you what girls you liked, and all that time you must have hated me for being so oblivious."
"Mom, I could never hate you. I pretended to be straight for a very long time. I mean, look at how shocked you were when I came out. It's going to take a while for you and Dad to adjust to me being gay. It's not an overnight thing. Imagine what it must've been like for me. Hell, I wish I knew I was gay the moment I was born. I mean, I guess a part of me always knew, but all these years, I didn't want to admit it. Aaron was the only one I told before high school, and, even then, Maya and Tommy were the only two that knew in high school. It took a lot of courage to tell them. For the longest time, I thought, maybe I'm just confused or fucked up in the head, but I realized that these feelings weren't going away. I thought, maybe I'm bisexual, but I never once loved Holly or Naomi or anybody the way I love Paris."
A tear falls down my face, but my mom wipes it away swiftly before reaching down and kissing my forehead like she did when I was young and sick with chills. It brings comfort and warmth to me, even now.
"I feel like you're more yourself than you've ever been. Grayson, my perfect little angel."
I burrow into my mom's embrace, softening from her warmth. She cups my cheek in her hand before gently pulling away, turning to the sound of rustling coming from the windowsill. Paris is stirring.
"Alrighty. You two can't sleep the day away! Open up the curtains and look outside. It's absolutely beautiful today. You could go swimming or out for a drive, maybe get some lunch! Do you want some money? Your dad and I can give you as much as you need!"
"Mom, I wanna take my boyfriend on a date with my money," I say with a laugh, except she can detect the shrouded gratitude in my half-smile. My mom nods and walks out of the bedroom, clicking the door shut behind her, happiness illuminating her aged green eyes.
The moment she leaves, Paris' gorgeous black eyes flutter open and I smile over at his fragile figure.
"Get up, babe, we've got the whole day ahead of us!"
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