Conventionally Yours (True Colors 1)

“It’s not scarlet fever. You don’t have to sound so horrified.” Alden’s reply was about as bristly as I’d expected.

“You’re missing out.” Of that I was sure, but why it made me a little sad to think of Alden alone, I wasn’t so sure.

“Perhaps.” His sigh was a soft, fragile thing. “But not all of us see college as a nonstop chance to party.”

Instead of getting defensive the way I had back at Professor Tuttle’s place, empathy over Alden always being on the outside looking in, combined with gratitude for how he’d helped Jasper, broke free a chunk of my truth.

“I didn’t. I know people say I did, but I loved school. Just because I liked to let loose on weekends doesn’t mean that I wasn’t taking my GPA seriously. It’s possible to make honor roll and have hookups both.” As we crept forward, another billboard advertised a personal-injury law firm, and I totally would have volunteered to sit through a hour of cheesy law-firm commercials to avoid this uncomfortable topic.

“But… Why leave then?” Alden sounded more thoughtful than demanding, which kept me from giving him a flip answer.

“No choice. It’s a long story that I’d rather not get into, but my parents kicked me out. Couldn’t work out the financial aid, despite the college trying to help. No money, no school.” I kept my voice even, as if reciting a multiplication table rather than summing up all the awful the universe had thrown at me.

“They kicked you out? What did you do?”

“Do?” I laughed, but it came out crackly, laced with all the bitterness of the last year. “I didn’t do shit.”

That wasn’t precisely true, but I didn’t want to air the entire tale to someone who wasn’t likely to get it at all. Do. Fuck that noise.

“If you didn’t… Then… Was it because you’re gay?”

“Yeah. A-plus deduction, Sherlock. Can we talk about something else now?”

“But…why?” The outrage in Alden’s voice was gratifying after his initial skepticism, but after all these months, I was more resigned than angry myself.

“Because. Not all of us get the TV-show perfect family with two great moms and cookies when we come out or whatever. Some of us get assholes.”

“Oh.” Alden was quiet a long moment, and I figured I’d shocked him into giving up the conversation. His GPS—the normal-voiced kind, not the wacky version Jasper ran—warned me that we were approaching the merge back onto I-70. Finally, as I made sure we were in the correct lane, Alden spoke in a soft whisper. “It’s not always. Not always perfect.”

“Them caring about your grades doesn’t count, sorry.” I’d picked up before on his moms probably being hard asses where GPA was concerned, but hell, I’d give a lot to have someone worry over me like that.

“It’s more than… You don’t get it.” Alden huffed out a breath. I waited for him to enlighten me, but what came out was even more surprising. “Mimi wasn’t always a part of our family. My dad died when I was a toddler. Plane crash. And I’m not saying that’s the same as whatever happened to you, but quit acting like you have a monopoly on life being unfair at times.”

“Sorry.” He was right. I was being an ass. Outside, we were finally out of downtown Columbus, heading more into the suburbs again, exit signs advertising fast-food chains and golf courses. Someone needed to take a nine-iron to my head, keep me from putting my foot in it, but somehow I kept talking. “Guess that’s why you have your thing about flying? I was kinda surprised that you were so in favor of Jasper taking a plane back.”

“Yeah. I do get scared for other people too. I’ll worry until Jasper texts you that he’s safe. And when Mom or Mimi travels, I’m…a mess. Somehow, both of my sisters are normal. They fly all the time. They don’t have panic attacks when the moms have to fly. I’m the one who ruined vacations and stuff like that as a kid and who still can’t seem to get over it.”

“Don’t they make meds that can help people with phobias like that?” My hands tensed on the steering wheel. I didn’t like thinking about him being so miserable. And shame coursed through me that it hadn’t occurred to me that he’d care about whether or not Jasper was safe.

“This is with medication. It’s not a magic cure.” He sounded so disgusted with himself that it made my chest hurt.

“Sorry. And your moms… They give you a hard time about the anxiety?” We were starting to leave the suburbs behind, signs shifting to tell us how many more miles to Springfield and Dayton. I should have been hungry by this point, but the weirdness of the conversation distracted me from the rumbling of my stomach.