Chapter 3: "Confession"

I woke up the next morning cuddled in the arms of my very first lover, an exchange student from Armenia. There was no love as love is usually defined, but there had been a need fulfilled by each of us, a kind of mutual affection. I didn't feel bad at all.

I slipped out of the bag and found my pajamas, put them on and walked to the bathroom. It was cool but not cold, and when I returned to the large room I found everyone still sleeping. There was some daylight coming in through the windows, but I had no idea what time it was. I thought I smelled an aroma of sex in the room, the subtle scent of arousal mingled with the sharper tone of females. (It's like that in the locker room sometimes too; it's enough to make a girl horny.)

I padded barefoot upstairs, intending to get some juice or water. I saw Brenda sitting at the table drinking coffee, and she smiled.

"Hi. Are you the only one awake?"

"I think so, I just got up."

"Would you like breakfast?"

"Don't bother, I'll just have some coffee."

"Nonsense, you've got to eat. What would you like?"

"Some scrambled eggs would be nice," I said.

"Coming right up," Brenda said, turning to the stove.

By the time she had my breakfast ready — eggs, bacon, English muffins and four kinds of jam — the rest of the girls were slowly making their way up to the kitchen. Tammy pitched in and helped cook, and before long everyone was sitting around the table eating.

Brenda discussed the logistics of getting everyone over to Mandan and the rink, and Christine and Stacy said they had to be somewhere else. That left eight of us, and Brenda assured us we'd all fit in her van.

We started to dress for the outdoors by eleven o'clock, and by noon we were on the ice and gliding around — some of us more adeptly than others, to be sure, but we were all having fun. It was nice to hold Leshi's hand as we meandered around the ice avoiding the faster skaters. There was an impromptu hockey game in the next rink over, and several people were watching and cheering as the puck slammed into the net.

We gathered up our things about four and piled into Brenda's van for the trip home. My bag was way in the back, and Leshi and I were sitting in the rear seat.

As we crossed the bridge coming into town, Leshi said, "Thank you for last night."

I blushed, warm with the remembrance of her slim body and her soft skin; what do you say to someone so extraordinary?

"Thank you," I said. "Last night will always be a good memory for me."

Leshi chuckled softly. "I have fond memories of my first as well."

We pulled up to my house a few minutes later.

I squeezed Leshi's hand and said, "Thanks!"

She pulled me to her and gave me a soft, lingering kiss, then touched my cheek with her fingertips.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'll think of you."

I waved goodbye, flushed and happy, as they drove away.

I went into the house, giddy with the success of the weekend. After saying hello to my parents, I put my things away and took a shower. I gave myself two small comes while I was standing under the spray; the memories of last night were too fresh in my mind not to. Now all I had to do was find some way to tell my mother I was gay.

I didn't get an opportunity to talk to Mom by herself until Sunday evening. My dad was shopping for lumber or something at Menards, and Mom was busy putting away the supper dishes. I was sitting at the kitchen table, nervous and very apprehensive.

"Mom?"

"Yes dear?"

"Can I talk to you for a minute? In private, I mean?"

"You may. Where would you like to go?"

"My room?"

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute."

I walked into my room and sat on the bed, more nervous than ever. I stripped quickly and put on a sleep shirt just to have something to do, and just as I finished Mom appeared at my door.

"I'm here."

"Yeah, uh, come in."

Mom sat at the end of my bed and looked at me, waiting for me to begin. She had this uncanny knack of waiting me out, not saying a word.

"I ... uh, hmm, uh..."

"What is it, honey?"

Very quickly I blurted, "I've got something to tell you that might make you mad but I've got to tell you and please don't be mad okay?"

She laughed quietly and said, "What did you do now?"

She'd said the same thing when I was in fourth grade and gotten a broken arm on the playground; hopefully she'd react the same way.

I avoided the main topic and said, "I kissed a girl this weekend."

I blushed and held my breath, my head down, unable to look my mother in the eyes. She remained motionless and silent, dropping her head and picking at my bedspread with her fingers. I couldn't read her face or her body language no matter how hard I tried.

After the longest minute of my life, she held out her arms and said, "Come here to me, let me hold you."

I crawled over and cuddled in beside her with my head on her chest. She was warm and soft, with her unique smell I have always associated with love. I started crying, short little sobs that did little to calm the guilt I felt.

"Now tell me; what happened?"

I started slowly, telling her about the incident in the showers, and after that I said something about wishing it had been someone else that touched me. From there, I confessed to having these feelings way back in sixth and seventh grade, usually for one of my teachers. I added to it by saying that last year I'd felt that way about strangers, people I'd seen in the mall or in a store. I told her about my perfect woman; older, taller than me and pretty, with some of the physical details I preferred.

At the last, I told her — without being too gross — what Leshi and I had done at the party. I added things about the club and some of the other members, and a bit about Brenda.

She hadn't said a word, even when I was struggling to find a sentence that made sense, and I sat up, waiting for her anger and disappointment to show.

She reached for me and pulled me back down, wrapping her arms around me.

"It's okay, Hani, relax," she said. She let me stew for a minute — which seemed like much longer — and then asked, "Are you happy?"

I asked, "Are you mad at me?"

She laughed. "Answer my question first, please."

"I don't know if I'm happy, but I feel better now that I've told you," I said.

Mom chuckled and said, "Yes, they say confession is good for the soul."

"Are you mad at me?" I repeated.

Mom exhaled and said, "Mad, no. Disappointed that you waited so long to tell me, yes."

I thought of what Brenda had told me and asked, "Did you know?"

Mom shook her head and said, "I didn't know, exactly, but I suspected something. I've always known you were a bit different from the other kids, but I attributed that to your father's rank and the way you were raised without roots."

"I'm sorry. I've wanted to tell you for a long time, but I didn't know how to say the words."

She hugged me tightly and put one hand on my butt. " We've been through a lot together, you and I; remember when we bought you your first real bras?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do," I said, and blushed.

"Well, I think we can get through this too," she said.

I hugged her tightly, feeling her love for me surround and protect me.

"Do you think of me in a sexual way?" she asked.