In the Middle of a Chinese Restaurant

[April 2007]

sweet & sour chicken for the boy
almond boneless for my mother
together the smells swirled in the air
and blew themselves into our nostrils
(funny how "blowing' is a somewhat appropriate metaphor
for what i'm about to write)

my mouth was thick from the wanton soup
and the duck sauce on the fried wantons
my mother's eyes were stern, looking at me

her son:
soon-to-be highschool graduate
full-ride to college
valedictorian

yet somehow she was angry
because in this state her son
would never bring her a child of his own
to coddle as she did him
18 1/3 years ago

i put too much soy sauce on my chicken again

the plate was warm but my fingers picked up
that sticky carrot and slurped it into my teeth

it's strange how small talk ends up being small in time
after all, how many things can i say
that my mother did not already know?

the meal was silent without the clanking of our forks
on the plates
and my inherent gulping of Mountain Dew
("slow down," she said to me)

four bites in and my mother looks at me
again, stern
the same look i had received since March
when that tuxedo rental magazine
arrived in the mail

she asked me who i was taking to prom.

shit.

i had not thought of it all day
though i had for months:
the one that lied in my bed
just one week before
and held me close to kiss my chest,
to lap up pleasures

my mother had a rosary
hanging in the review mirror of her car
(a small thing, but always seeming to stare at me
when i sat in the passenger seat
next to my mother)

it was odd how the truth was more guilt-ridden than any lie

"i don't know...kinda"

that look became more stern, though i am unsure how:
my mother despises "kinda" and "i don't know"

then i told her
who i wanted to take
after a long gulp of soda

"his name is Justin"

she sat
shaking her head
backandforth
backandforth

saying "nonononononono"

still, that was the most tame part:
having to explain to your mother
that you can love girls and boys
is odd -

i thought about drawing a diagram on the back of the zodiac place mat

again again again i explained
and again again again she shook her head

then, out of nowhere:
"don't kill yourself, please."

to this day, Golden Wok reminds me
that i'm queer.

i get beef and broccoli now.