The world tunneled around us. For several seconds, nothing felt real. Not her arms. Not her questions. Not my truth. Then my knees began to buckle, and I returned her embrace, holding her more tightly than I had since hitting puberty.
“You deserve everything,” she whispered. Her voice was thick. Was she crying? My eyes felt wet. I definitely was. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
I don’t know how long we stood there. Time didn’t matter. But my legs felt stronger, and my body felt lighter when we finally broke apart. I wiped away the moisture from my cheeks.
There was nothing but love on her face as I gazed down at her, but I had to be sure. “You’re not upset?”
“By what?”
“That I’m gay.”
“Why would I be upset?” she said. “It doesn’t change who you are.” She hesitated. “How long have you known?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes I think I’ve always known.”
“Are we really that scary?”
“What?” Then I got it. “Because I didn’t tell you until now?”