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I barely choke down my mashed potatoes. Here it is. I promised Avery I wouldn’t lie, but I also don’t really want to tell their parents the whole story. I’m still convinced they’d be horrified by the fact I first met Avery when they were my student and I was their TA.
“Yes, though I was a graduate student,” I say.
“But you’re also studying gender and sexuality?”
“That’s right. So we had some opportunities to run into each other on campus and stuff.”
“I see.”
My chest clenches. I don’t know if that’s a bad “I see” or a I’m-going-to-murder-you-for-taking-advantage-of-my-precious-child “I see.”
“We did research together,” Avery says. “Since Diego was in a graduate program, he knew a lot of things I didn’t. He was really kind, actually, mentoring me and stuff. I learned a lot of things I wouldn’t have without him.”
“Boring,” one of Avery’s sisters mutters.
“Cora, stop it,” Avery’s mother says. “It’s not boring to them.”
Cora, the youngest Aaron at the table, rolls her eyes dramatically. “You two are such nerds.”
“That’s why they’re meant for each other,” the other young sister chimes in, elbowing Cora.
I can feel the heat crawling up my face.
“Nerds are cool now. Shut up,” Avery says. “And your room is full of fantasy novels so who are you callinga nerd, Abigail?”
Abigail flushes scarlet and looks like she wants to launch a fresh attack, but Avery’s father cuts in.
“We’re not fighting at the dinner table,” he says. “We have guests.”
“Trent doesn’t count as a guest,” Abigail says. “He’s practically lived here since him and Gabriel were kids.”
“Then we haveguest,” Avery’s father says. “And we’re going to mind our manners.”
“Whatever,” Abigail grumbles.
“Anyway,” Avery’s mother says, “it sounds like you two have a lot in common. And now you’re going all the way to London to keep studying?”
She’s trying to sound casual, but I can hear the motherly strain in her voice. Her baby is flying to a whole different continent at the end of the summer. It’s got to be rough on her.
“It’ll mostly be Avery doing the studying,” I say. “I’m transitioning between programs.”
In truth, I’m not sure exactly what I’m doing next. I have my graduate degree. The program is only two years. But I never thought I’d get it and then dash to London. The future is a huge unknown, but that doesn’t scare me the way it used to. In fact, I’m kind of excited about it.
Avery’s parents let me off the hook for the rest of the dinner, moving on to easier topics. I don’t have to talk a lot, and when everyone’s done eating, I insist on helping cleanup while Avery and their siblings hang out in the living room. Eventually, it’s just me and Avery’s father in the kitchen, silently washing dishes.
“Take care of them, alright?” Avery’s father says.
His voice is so soft and mild that I almost lose it under the rush of the water gushing out of the tap. A lump clogs my throat at the quiet sincerity of his plea.
“I will, sir,” I say.
He smiles over at me. “I know. I can tell. And it’ll do me and Avery’s mother good to know they’re with someone who cares about them when we aren’t there to protect them.”
I can’t speak. I swallow and swallow as we finish with the dishes, but my throat never clears.
When the dishes sit in a drying rack, Avery’s father and I wipe off our hands. The living room is a tumult, and we watch it silently for a moment before Avery’s father sets his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Avery notices us, and waves to urge me to join them on the couch.
“Go ahead,” Avery’s father says, and it feels like more than just encouragement to join the conversation in the living room. It feels like a blessing, like he’s almost passing Avery into my care. I know Avery can take care of themself, but I also know what their father is asking of me.
