Happy Families Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mom, I’m not really ready to talk about anything,” she says, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the water running in the sink.
    Mom turns off the tap. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk,” she says. “Just listen.”
    I kick closed my door, feeling a twist of angry joy as it slams. I might have to hear my parents’ voices, but I’m done listening to anything they have to say.
    The rich manicotti, stuffed mushrooms, and parmesan-topped breadsticks are cooling on the table. The huge salad with artichoke hearts and pear tomatoes barely has a dent in it. Ysabel is nibbling on a breadstick, but everyone else is about done. None of us were all that hungry to begin with. I’m still willing to eat, until I pass out or throw up. Mom said we could hold off on any discussion until our plates were clean.
    Dad pushes back his plate with a sigh. “Looks like I got too much food.”
    Mom makes a resigned face. “You’d better take it over to Mama and Pop’s when you go,” she says. “I don’t want that sitting in the fridge all week; I’ll never eat it all.”
    “We could stay here and eat it,” I mutter, and flinch as my father looks over at me.
    “You’ll have plenty of takeout leftovers to eat at my place,” he says with a laugh. “I know you’ll miss your mother’s cooking, though.”
    I lean my chin on my arm, my hand blocking my father from view. “Mom?”
    She gives me a weary look. “Justin, we’ve been over this.”
    Ysabel clears her throat, and I glance over at her. She’s fussing with her fork, making sure it aligns with her knife just so. Without looking up at my father, she asks, “So, what are we supposed to
do
all week?”
    Dad laughs shortly. “What do you do during any spring break?” he asks.
    “Whatever my parents aren’t doing,” I mutter.
    “Well,
my
plan was to be at The Crucible all week and get in some real work hours,” Ysabel says stiffly. “But I guess my plan doesn’t matter.”
    “Of course it matters. Belly, I especially went out and bought you a little propane so you can work on your small glass projects, at least,” Dad says diplomatically. “As for what else we’re going to do? Well, I want you to speak with some professional people I’ve met, and go on a couple of outings with other transgender individuals and their families—”
    “Wait, what?” Ysabel looks rattled. “Dad, I don’t want to hang out with … people.”
    “We read the stuff you sent us, and we looked at the Web sites,” I remind both my parents while staring at Mom. “I don’t think we need to
meet
anyone. That’s not necessary.”
    My father laughs again, a humorless sound, and turns to my mother, as if expecting her to jump in. Mom quirks her eyebrows and shrugs silently. Dad rasps his hand across his stubbled chin and sighs. When he turns toward me, I look down, studying the congealing sauce on my plate.
    “Not everything has to be weighed in terms of necessary and unnecessary, Justin. It’s important for us to be together for a bit, to talk things through, and get comfortable with each other again. It’s important for us to spend time together that isn’t stressful. And I also think it’s important for you to meet other transgender folks and their families.” He glances at Ysabel. “Yes, they’re strangers for now. But I’m hoping you can come away with a few friends.”
    The headache that has been hovering around the edges of myconsciousness lances me through the eye. “I still don’t see why we need to meet anyone. They don’t have anything to do with us.”
    “Justin.” My mother’s voice is definite. “Your father is a transgender individual, and he will always have something to do with you. We are a family, and we will stay a family.”
    I blow out an impatient breath. “You know what I mean, Mom.”
    Mom nods. “I do. But I also know that other families who have been through this type of a change might be really helpful for you to meet, to