Bradley

Bradley swirled the last bit of frosting at the top of the cake. He looked up as the curtains bristled along with the wind and held his eyes on his backyard. The sun glowed on the mountain behind their house, right at the peak of its most golden hour of the day. He loved watching the mountain shine like that. He let himself stare for a moment before he put his attention back to his creation and all of its glory.

Once refocused, he reminded himself of why he had to bake it in the first place. It was something of a peace offering for his mom, because he didn’t know how she’d feel about what he had to tell her, and he hoped his gift helped him out.

He frowned as he tried to figure out what the cake was missing, then grabbed some of the rainbow sprinkles from the cupboard and shook a few on top.

“There,” he whispered. “That should do the trick.”

He heard the garage door open and his stomach leapet into his throat. His mother was home, and that meant go time. Every bit of him hoped this little chocolate cake thing actually worked.

Mom juggled a lot, and Bradley respected that. An only child with a loving family, he always felt like he had everything he needed. His dad left for a few days at a time during the week for work, but he was always there for the important stuff. Fortunately, for Bradley, that made today a great time to have this talk, because Dad was out of town until tomorrow and he couldn’t hold this in anymore. Bradley was scared of how Mom would react, and he didn’t want to make her life more difficult. He’d heard Pastor Albert at their church talking about certain sins. He was simply scared he’d be mistaken for committing one when he didn’t see anything wrong.

“Hey, Bradley,” said Mom as she walked in, carrying a couple of grocery bags. “Would you mind grabbing the rest of these out of the car for me, please?” She set down the ones she had on the counter and heaved out an exasperated breath.

“Of course,” said Bradley, grateful for the opportunity to procrastinate this conversation a little longer.

“What’s that?” asked Mom, her voice softening as she saw Bradley’s offering by the oven.

Bradley shrugged. “I wanted to make your favorite. I didn’t know how to add the raspberry filling, though. Sorry. It’s just a good, old-fashioned chocolate cake.”

Mom smiled and pulled him in for a hug. She kissed his forehead, and he didn’t pull back like he usually did. He didn’t want to do anything to make this talk go south.

Mom, though, knew better than to let him go that easily. He’d never been able to understand how she could tell something was wrong without him even saying anything. His lack of backtalk to her kissing his forehead rendered a bigger reaction than he’d meant.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, eying the cake after the question. “Did you get into trouble?”

Bradley shook his head. “I’ll tell you in a minute, I’m going to get the groceries.”

He moved to the back door, but Mom grabbed his hand and said, “Those groceries can wait. I brought in all the perishables, there’s no rush.” She nodded in his direction. Her hoop earrings swayed with the movement, and her curly hair bounced in rhythm. “What’s going on, kid?”

Bradley hated how she still called him “kid,” and he hoped she could start seeing him as more than that sooner rather than later. His fourteenth birthday was just around the corner. He was a teenager now. He was old enough to make his own decisions, and she’d just have to deal with it.

“Nothing,” he said, although he’d started fidgeting his hands and shifting all of his weight from one foot to the other.

Mom motioned at the cake again. She knew something was up. “Why don’t you cut us each a slice of that cake there and come join me at the table?”

Bradley nodded, and he may as well have choked on his heart. It thumped so loudly in his ears as he walked into the kitchen and cut them each a piece. He’d never understood how his body parts seemed to switch into other locations depending on whatever nerve he felt, but he figured that answer would come with time, and that asking Mom about it right now would only further prolong the inevitable.

“So what’s going on?” Mom asked as Bradley slid her slice toward her and placed his in front of him.

He shrugged. “There’s just…” He cleared his throat and looked down at his cake. He’d frosted it too early. Mom had told him before that the frosting would melt if the cake was too warm for it, and he watched the bits that turned to liquid and wished he could do the same. “There’s someone at school I’m starting to get feelings for.”

Mom laughed and took her first bite. “And that’s what this is about? You felt like you needed to bake me a cake because you have a crush?” She laughed again and raised her fork at him. “That’s so cute, my sweet boy. I can’t wait to meet her, what’s her name?”

Bradley refused to move his eyes away from the cake; this was the exact moment he feared. Would she tell him he’d rot in hell? Or turn to liquid herself if she burst into tears? Would she still love him? He’d heard about other people getting kicked out of their homes for things like this, but he didn’t know what to do. In the same sense of his “feelings” being deemed “wrong,” he felt like a liar if he hid behind the truth. Wasn’t that just as bad, if not worse? How could he be taught to be truthful, yet be forced to withhold the actual truth? Is that what it meant to get older?

He didn’t want to believe that. Didn’t want to be a part of it, at least. Mom had always told him to be honest and open, and she’d never given him a reason to think otherwise. Dad could be rough around the edges sometimes — which was certainly a factor in Bradley waiting until he was gone to do this — but he was always understanding in the end.

Mom had always told him that sometimes, if you have to say something you don't want to, it's best to treat it like a Band-Aid. Just rip it off.

Bradley pried his eyes off his cake and looked into his mother’s. He sat up straighter, and even though he didn’t say it as loudly as he’d hoped, he still managed to push out, “His name is Jonathan.”

The fork, on its way to Mom’s mouth, froze along its path. “Oh,” she said, holding it still. “I see.”

She finished the bite and stared at him as she chewed. He held her gaze and couldn’t bring himself to do anything else. This was it. This was when she would tell him how much he’d disappointed her. Or how it was probably some sort of phase or confusion, but it would pass. Told him how wrong it was, how it went against biology and didn’t make any sense. That he was mistaken and didn’t know what he meant. Or that his hormones were just trying to learn how to make sense of his growing body.

Or that he had to leave.

Mom finished chewing, slowly, and swallowed. Then, she reached her hand across the table, grabbed Bradley’s, and gave it a little squeeze. “I can’t wait to meet him, then.”

Bradley’s heart melted like the frosting on the cake and he sighed out his relief. “Really?”

Mom smiled, and although Bradley could sense it wasn’t exactly what she’d expected, her love for him hadn’t altered a bit. “Really.” Another bite of cake. “Next time, I’ll have to teach you how to add in the raspberry filling.”

Bradley relaxed and finally sat back to take a bite of his own piece of cake for the first time. He thought he did a pretty good job. It was a little salty, but he wasn’t too sure about the difference between tsp and tbsp, so maybe Mom could teach him about that, too, when she showed him how to do the filling. His cake certainly wasn’t as good as hers, but considering how well that talk went, it somehow tasted like the best cake he’d ever had at the same time.

“So, tell me about him,” said Mom, and Bradley did. It felt so nice to be so open with her, and they finished up their cake and put their plates in the sink. Bradley kept talking about Jonathan all the way to the garage to get the rest of the groceries, where Mom helped him out despite his insistence she didn’t have to, then all throughout their time unloading the groceries, as well. He told her all about Jonathan’s smile and the way his heart skipped a beat anytime he was the source of it. How whenever he looked into his eyes, no one else existed in the room. He talked about Jonathan’s preference for button-ups, how they’d stolen their first kiss in the bathroom when no one was looking, and how he made him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. He apologized if any of the details upset his mother, but she shook her head when he suggested it.

“He sounds absolutely lovely,” Mom said when Bradley had finished. Her face turned solemn as she smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “This was a lot for me to take in, yes, but I appreciate that you told me.”

Bradley smiled back, although a little more nervously considering the expression on her face. His shoulders sank the slightest, and his heart did that weird shifty-thing where it fell into his stomach.

“I just need you to do one favor for me,” she said.

Bradley nodded, although now his stomach had once again done that thing where it came into his throat and made it hard to talk. “Okay.”

“You can’t ever tell your father any of this.”