Chapter 35

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The antithesis of a toxic parental relationship.

Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I'm moving out. Maybe. It really all depends on how you take the things I'm about to say, and if I'm perfectly honest, in order for me to move out, I think maybe you both are going to need to get real chill with a couple things real fast…

Nope.

That's not going to work.

Hey, Mom and Dad! Remember how you want me to marry Pollux and indoctrinate his perfectly acceptable little girl into human world nonsense about not being herself? Yeah! Well, well, well, what if I told you that I've taken your points to heart, and I've decided I'd actually like to undoctrinate myself, which sorta kinda involves moving out to take lessons from her?

Yeah, maybe no.

Hello, parents. Guess what Pollux is getting for Christmas?

Me!

Absolutely I think the heck not.

I'm pacing in front of my bed, again, because I do that in moments like this. In socks, on the tips of my toes, I trot back and forth, feeling somewhat like I have deer hooves. I used to do this all the time when I was little. I stopped the tippy toes because it felt immature, but now I'm seriously considering a potential that my fae form has hooves, and it's always been the natural way of things.

For whatever reason, it feels right and makes breathing easier.

It has been three reasonable days since my conversation with Pollux. It has been two reasonable days since I, with Zahra's majestic help, managed to inform the school board about the surprise playground a parent anonymously sponsored for us. It has been one reasonable day of panic and stress as the realization I am a week from the twenty-first came over me.

I've been trying, and failing, to prep a presentation for my parents that doesn't go quite as insane as sad children videos. Or even a PowerPoint. Because that's college and school behavior. It should not be the way one acts at home.

I squish Pollux's angry bee in my arms because three nights ago after pizza he, quite pitifully, asked me if it was acceptable to request that I recharge it to smell like me again. Acceptable or not, I obliged because Pollux is seven feet of pure cuteness, and I kind of want to cuddle him like I'm cuddling his bee.

Which, for the record, still currently smells faintly of him.

Fallingdoes not begin to describe the emotions I'm wrestling with where Pollux is concerned.

Plummetingis closer.

Mom, Dad, I'm in love. Or swiftly getting there. And I know, I know what you've taught me, so don't worry. I'm not asking to move out and live in sin. See, he gave me a kitten, so we're married. That's right. Chai is a marriage kitten! Stop looking at me like I'm insane.

I bury my face in Pollux's bee to keep from screaming.

This can't be ripped off like a band-aid. I must reasonably present the situation from the point of view of a level-headed person. The ultimate goal isn't to worry my parents. That is literally what I've spent my entire life trying not to do.

I went to college because Dad said he never got a chance to, and he wanted me to be the first generation with an education. I'm a teacher because Mom told me how I've always been good with kids, and having long breaks scheduled into my career would probably be a good idea for me. Every relationship I've had that my mom or dad got sketch vibes from ended the very next day.

Up until this point, my life hasn't really been mine, has it?

Up until this point, I don't think I've wanted anything more than I've wanted to make my parents happy. I don't know what I'll do if they change their mind about Pollux now. I don't know what I'll do if I have to decide to face their rejection in order to continue down this path of becoming me. I don't think I can go back to the hollow exhaustion I'm starting to hate with every ounce of the anger I keep subdued in my chest.

Ignorance is bliss.

Knowledge can be a burden.

But I have never believed the responsibility of holding it is not worth the pain of fixing the problems it brings to light.

Even though my chest is so tight it feels like my heart is going to squeeze out of my throat, I set Pollux's bee down on the foot of my bed, pick up my fae folder, and leave my room. "Mom? Dad?"

They're in the living room. Dad looks up from watching his fish with Chai on his lap while Mom lowers her noise-canceling headphones and closes the book she's reading. "Yes, honey?" She glances at the binder I'm holding. "Is that a new lesson plan?"

I swallow. "No." My thoughts dry up.

Worry crosses Mom's brow as she sets her book entirely aside. "What's wrong?"

On instinct, I smile. "Nothing!"

My parents exchange a look as Dad eases back in his chair and pets Chai's little head. "Nothing?" he says.

I plop myself onto the couch across from their chairs, folder clamped to my chest. "Nothing's wrong. Something might be a teeny tiny bit…weird…but nothing is wrong, okay?"

With another exchanged look, I receive a less-than-convincing, "Okay…" from Dad.

So far, this is going poorly.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I fight the swirling sensation in my stomach, relax my shoulders, and lose my fake smile. This conversation is about sharing the truth, right? Right. Let's try to start a little bit here.

"Is this about Pollux?" Mom asks, and my tension floods back.

"What?" I squeak.

Dad's brows furrow. "Did something happen with Pollux?"

"Wha…why is he coming up?"

"Because. He's been helping out at the school, hasn't he? You've been keeping odder hours since around the time we heard about him." Mom laces her fingers together. "Honey." She nods at my folder. "What is that?"

It's a folder about faerie stuff. I grabbed it in case you had questions I needed to look up. "Um."

"Kasserole, if you're pregnant, it's okay. We're not upset or disappointed. Sometimes, things happen, and we regret the outcomes, but we will support you no matter what."

"I'm not pregnant!" I blurt. "We haven't even— Dad! How could you even say that?"

"Well?" Mom rolls her attention off me. "This is very unlike you. What else are we supposed to assume?"

"You also thought I was pregnant?"

"This we need to talk tone isn't normal for you," she chides. "Preparing an entire action plan to address any mistakes is. Like that time you outlined how you were going to earn back the money to replace a plate you accidentally chipped."

"When you were seven," Dad adds, graciously. "It involved searching the couch cushions at our friends' houses, and we were mildly concerned."

I scowl at him. "Well, I'm not pregnant." Gaining something like resolve, I say, "It's weirder but less concerning than being suddenly pregnant. Mom. Dad. I don't know how else to say this. I'm a faerie."

A violent amount of understanding fills my parents' eyes, and I'm about to be offended that they—obviously—knew when Dad says, "That's why you don't want to marry Pollux."

"Did this really need to be an event, honey?" Mom references my rigid sitting position and folder. "What, with a binder and everything?"

"If that binder is information about pronouns, we're aware of the pronoun thing. We can openly discuss our beliefs and come to a conclusion that respects you. He, she, they. That's all fine and good. I will need some time if you identify as a helicopter now."

Mom shoots Dad a frown. "Aaron, behave yourself. That joke is very inappropriate at this exact moment." Sighing, she looks back at me. "Whatever we agree or disagree on, it won't shake the foundation that we love you. Are you just finding out now, or have you thought you had to hide it from us?"

Dad's hand slaps down on his leg, scaring Chai from the room. "It's Zahra, isn't it? You're with Zahra. Is she coming to Christmas dinner?" He tuts. "This will break Pollux's heart. We were thinking of inviting him again. Shame, very little is more attractive than a person who owns a motorcycle."

It does not escape me that my father used to own a motorcycle…

I'm…speechless. Closing my eyes, I take a much-needed moment. "First…of all…I'm not sure if it's polite to use the term fairy in this context; I'm almost positive it was derogatory in its origin. Second of all…I don't know if Zahra is interested in men or women, period. She seems to know everyone, but has always turned down advances. Third of all, I appreciate your point of view if I were lesbian. You are amazing parents." My throat closes a bit, but I fight through the sensation. "You just…really are."

"Oh, honey…" Mom stands, and Dad follows.

In a few moments, they have me sandwiched between them on the couch while I look at the popcorn ceiling and the way the Christmas lights from the tree beside the fish tank scatter colors across it. I don't want to cry right now. I don't know how to explain to parents who clearly want to accept me because they love me that they've unintentionally created a space where I don't feel like I can be myself.

How do you tell people who did their absolute best that it wasn't good enough? Especially when the only reason it fell short is because they didn't know how to do any better?

Know better; do better.

Sometimes, you just don't know, and sometimes even if you do, the world itself works against you.

"Kass, we're here for you," Mom murmurs into my hair. "Can you explain what you mean, or do you need a moment?"

"Take your time, Kasserole. I've already fed my fish, so I've got all night."

I release a wet laugh. "Thank goodness. I… This is hard for me to explain. I'm speaking literally. I'm a faerie, or at least part faerie right now." Trying very hard to keep it together, I lower my folder from my chest to my lap, and turn to the first page past the table of contents.

Information about Pollux, and unseelie and seelie, and marriage kittens, and me spills out—bit by bit. All the words I didn't know how to say enter the stillness broken only by the hum of the fish tank filter.

At the end of it, all I can whisper is, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know how. But I want you to know. Especially if I'm going to move out soon, I don't want you to think it's sudden or that you've done something wrong. I just need to figure myself out around people who understand a little bit better what's going on." I swallow as a tear traces down my cheek. "Does that…make sense?"

When I find the strength to glance toward my parents' faces, I find wide eyes trained on me. My shoulders bunch.

But then Dad says, "It makes about as much sense as the fact your tears are gold, Kasserole." Lifting his finger, he catches a drop of the moisture and shows me.

My heart jerks.

"They're very pretty," Mom assures, giving her head a slight shake. "I'm sorry, honey. This is a lot to take in. You're…a faerie. A magical creature. Will you grow wings?"

"I—I don't know yet. I'm sorry," I blurt. "I'm crying gold? Right now?"

"Yes?" Dad's brow furrows as he rubs his thumb against the teardrop. "It actually…seems kind of like glitter glue?"

Tripping upright, I fumble to get my phone out of my skirt pocket. After a ring, Pollux answers, "Yes?"

"Pollux, can you get here, immediately?"

Behind me, Mom murmurs, "I think we're out of our depth, Aaron."

"It was bound to happen someday."

Three seconds is all it takes for Pollux to be stomping down the hall from my bedroom to the living room. His voice echos, since he's still holding his phone to his ear. "Kassandra, what's wrong?"

I point at my face as another large teardrop slips free. "Gold tears. Is this enough? For you? Is it at least a start?"

Somewhere beyond the thundering of my heart in my ears, I hear my mother whisper a reverent, "Oh…my…" and I can only imagine it has something to do with Pollux's red eyes. Or the fact he just appeared in our house. Either, or. Actually, probably both.

Yeah. Both makes the most sense.

Moments pass as Pollux scans me, then my parents, then me again. "Did…you just have the talk?"

"Yes."

His eyes close. "And I'm assuming it has come with emotions of you wanting your parents to see the truth?"

"Yes?"

"Dearest, you're overriding my glamour, and I'm uncertain if I can even fix things if you don't let me have my power back to do so."

Is he saying that simply because I want my parents to know the truth, the little magic bubble I have that nullifies his fear is now nullifying his glamour? If he is, that is marvelously off topic. "Pollux," I grit under a sniffle. "They're fine, but I can't cry forever. Is this enough to make you a charm like Andromeda's?"

He cuts his fingers through his hair as impeccable amounts of distress fight for purchase in his expression. "Why are you even worried about that right now?"

"Because, I care about you, stupid!"

My mother covers the tiny gasp that escapes her with her hand.

"Mom! Not a word."

Dad folds his arms. "If you're already married, do we not get the pleasure of attending a wedding? Rather, Pollux, you married my daughter without asking me first?"

Pollux rolls his shoulders back and has the decency to look abjectly horrified. "Was that a step I missed? I apologize. I'm very unaccustomed to many human regulations."

I snap my fingers in Pollux's face. "Focus. Tears. Golden. You. Freedom. Priorities."

Something finally clicks in his beautiful head, and he grumbles, "Right…" Taking my hand, he looks at my parents. "We'll be back in a bit. I am sincerely sorry about this, but we will explain ourselves as soon as possible."

Then, without another word, he pulls me up the hall, into my room, past some bags of yarn he knocked over, and into my closet.