Reality hit me pretty hard as soon as I met my grandparents in front of O'Kane. Mom's broad smile morphed into a puzzled, disapproving frown when she noticed my new attire.

"Hi, Jess!" Grandad said as he cast a worried glance towards Mom. "Looks like you had fun with your new friends."

"I did, thanks," I replied, trying to keep upbeat. I decided to ignore my grandmother's disdain, which oozed from her like an invisible, poisonous miasma. "It was awesome."

"Hello, dear," Mom said, giving me another scrutinizing stare. "Where are your clothes?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Helen and I just had a makeover this morning. Cute, huh?"

Not a lie, just not the whole truth.

"It's...different."

"Helen let me take this home," I said, trying to stay strong while my voice faltered. "She's got so many, she needed to make room for more. I didn't waste my money or anything."

"I see."

Mom didn't need to berate me with a lecture. Oh, no. She had this genius way of tearing me to shreds with one piercing glare. Or one well-timed huff of disapproval. Ripping away all my resolve until I felt like that same little child I was twelve years ago. Clutching Mom's feet, begging for her to save me.

And save me she did. All I needed to do was follow her rules. A small price for my reprieve.

Until now...

Now I was an adult.

Resentment rose like burning acid in my throat as I tossed my bag in the back seat with a callous flick. I'd had my taste of freedom. True freedom. Returning to this strictness felt as though they'd decided to wrap me in a straitjacket when I'd done nothing wrong.

"Carm, what did we talk about?" Grandad whispered in a hushed tone he probably didn't think I could hear.

"Just look at her," Mom said in a shocked whisper. "I'm worried."

My heart thudded against my ribs as I climbed into the back seat, sulking in silence. Dread curled up on my stomach like a black cat kneading my raw insides with extended claws. Tears of shame stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

"Did you have a good time?" Grandad asked, snapping me back to reality. "What did you see? Tell us all about Holy Cross. Are the classes good? Did you make lots of friends?"

My throat constricted, and I fought to stay strong. "I loved it," I answered in a choked voice. "The language labs are...phenomenal, and the people are friendly and welcoming. I can't wait to go."

Grandad and Mom exchanged a meaningful expression I couldn't discern.

"What did you do last night?" asked Mom.

"I hung out with Helen's friends," I replied, trying to skirt the issue.

Mom detected my evasion right away. "Not with Helen?"

"No..."

"Who did you spend time with?"

"Her friends," I replied in an insistent voice.

"Girls or boys?"

Fuck.

My mind froze into solid ice. I couldn't form a single coherent thought. Stupid Jess! I should have come up with an elaborate explanation of what I'd done last night, but I couldn't be bothered.

Most normal people didn't have to lie about hanging out with friends.

"Uh..."

Mom gave me a worried look. "Jess, dear?"

"Promise you won't get mad?" I asked in a small voice.

"Oh, boy," muttered Grandad. "Here we go."

"I learned how to dance for prom," I replied. "So that I don't look silly."

Mom breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, well. That's good, right?"

I didn't know whether she was trying to convince me or herself.

"The girls should teach you how to dance," she said. "It can be a very bonding experience. Is Helen a good dancer?"

"She's really good."

"And you danced with Helen, right?"

Jesus Christ! It was always the same. Mom always re-enacted the Spanish Inquisition so that I had no wiggle room for even a semblance of privacy. That way she could root out any potential evil in my life.

If I told her the truth, she'd roast me over an open fire. But if I lied, I'd drown in a disgusting pit of regret.

Why should I hide the truth? I did nothing wrong! This isn't fair!

"Jess, dear?" Mom looked at me through the side mirror. "Did you dance with boys?"

I sighed. "Yes, Mom."

"At one of those nightclubs?" she asked tersely.

"No, Mom! Jeez!" I huffed in frustration. "I told you, I wanted to learn how to dance. One of Helen's friends taught me how to dance in the ballroom."

Mom stayed silent, which scared me more than her fussing. It usually meant we'd reached DEFCON-2. Instead, it was Grandad's turn to continue the interrogation.

"Did he behave like a gentleman?" asked Grandad in a gruff voice.

"The whole time," I replied. "He didn't sin or touch me badly in any way."

"Were you alone with him?"

I paused for a beat. "Yes."

"Jessica Maria Sophia Perez!" he roared so loud my poor eardrums screamed at me to make it stop. "What did I tell you about being alone with a boy?"

I was so startled that I didn't even get pissed off about my name.

"But..."

"I'm very disappointed in you," he said with a hurt look. "When you act like this, you don't make it very easy to trust you."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I shouted. "Jeez, Grandad. It's not like we were grinding."

"What the hell is grinding?!"

I crossed my arms. "You don't want to know."

"Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Probably not."

"Don't sass me, young lady!" he said in a fierce tone that brokered no argument.

"It means gyrating your hips near a boy's--"

"Jessica, dear!" Mom exclaimed.

"I didn't do that." I sighed. "We danced a foot apart the entire time. Like good Catholic kids. You can trust me."

"You acted very foolish indeed!" insisted Grandad, wringing the steering wheel as though he wished it were my neck. "Dancing alone with a stranger."

"He was Helen's friend."

"That doesn't mean you can trust him!" He turned into full Papa Bear mode. "If he hadn't been a gentleman, he could have taken advantage of you, and no one would have been there to help."

I groaned in frustration. "But he was a gentleman and nothing happened!"

"Pure dumb luck."

The way he emphasized that word made it sound like he was hurling an insult my way. I crossed my arms and sulked. For real! This had to stop. It was time I told them the truth.

I was eighteen years old and didn't have to put up with their garbage anymore.

"He wasn't a stranger," I muttered.

Both Grandad and Mom piped up at once. "What?"

"I know him."

They exchanged an incredulous look as every nerve in my body screamed at me not to say anything. Adrenaline pumped through my veins along with all those happy hormones that made a person do any idiotic thing to ensure they stayed with the person they loved.

"Jess, dear? Did you--"

"Eric."

Silence fell in the car.

Blessed, scary-ass silence.

"I went to see Eric," I said again in a soft voice.

The silence screamed like a fire engine, but no one had the strength to break it. Grandad exhaled a heavy breath while Mom cupped her forehead in her palm.

"You lied to us," said Grandad in a hurt tone.

"No, I didn't!"

Crossing my arms, I explained play by play what I'd done that weekend while skillfully avoiding the part where Eric kissed me. They didn't need to know that. They wouldn't understand.

"I didn't lie," I said in conclusion. "I saw Holy Cross first-hand, and now I know I definitely want to go there. Only in addition to seeing Helen, I saw Eric."

"Why do you always feel the need to hide this young man from us?" asked Mom in a suspicious tone. "Are you ashamed of him in some way?"

"I'm an adult now," I said in a proud voice. "Who I choose to date is my concern."

"Jess, I can't believe what I'm hearing," Mom said. "Did that...Helen...put you up to this?"

"Why do you get the impression I'm some dumb pushover?" I asked in a way that would put a snapping turtle to shame. "It was my own idea to meet Eric."

For God's sake!

"I want to date him and get to know him before I bring him home," I said in a firm tone. "I'm sorry if you don't agree, but that's my choice."

"This Eric has nothing to do with your new look?" Grandad asked with a curled lip.

Mom gave him a gentle swat on the arm.

"This puts me in a precarious position." I crossed my arms. "I can tell the truth, and you can think I'm a bad person. Or I can lie, and I can be a bad person."

"You're not a bad person," Mom said.

"No, I'm not. But you keep asking me questions to get the answers you want to hear."

"I, for one, want to hear the truth young lady," Grandad growled. "No more lies. Do you have a boyfriend? Is his name Eric? And does he or does he not attend the College of the Holy Cross?"

Time for real talk. No more bullshit.

"Yes. Yes. And yes."

"I see. Thank you," he said with a huff.

"But I did get a makeover from Helen," I said, "because my clothes look like a burlap sack. I wanted a new look, and that has nothing at all to do with Eric."

Mom gasped. "You never questioned my shopping before."

"Because I don't give a crap about clothes," I replied. "But apparently other people do."

"Do you...like...your new attire?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." I sighed. "To the extent that I care at all, I think I look kinda pretty."

"It does make a nice change," said Grandad.

Mom gave him a stern look with the gravitas of a thousand lectures.

Grandad narrowed his eyes. "All right, it might be...form fitting, but the skirt part goes to the knee."

"Fine, I suppose there's no reason why you shouldn't keep it," said Mom with a haughty look.

"This boyfriend is another matter," Grandad said, narrowing his eyes. "Your grandmother raises a valid question. Why are you keeping him from us?"

"Because I knew you'd make a fuss and forbid it when he's innocent."

"No man is innocent, Jess. They all want--"

"He's different," I insisted. "I know everyone says that about their boyfriends, but he is. He holds the door open for me. He asks me before even giving me a hug. Not even you guys do that."

Mom cocked her head. "We're your family, dear."

"Good thing that Eric kid didn't touch you," Grandad said, his eyes a dark storm. "Or I'd have a little...chat...with him."

"He hasn't."

"Good."

"The point is: Eric is a gentleman," I insisted. "He's the kind of guy every parent dreams their kid will date. He's intelligent. He's kind. He's a talented musician like you, Mom."

"What does he play?" Mom asked.

"Piano and organ," I replied. "He's so good that he has permission to play on the Steinway in Brooks Hall and on the chapel organ."

She hummed in thought. "I thought he wasn't a man of faith?"

"That doesn't mean he can't play," I retorted. "The Jesuits respect people of all faiths. Yes, even when they don't have one."

That made her quiet.

"You don't have to meet this Eric in secret, you know." Grandad faced me through the rear-view mirror. "It makes us think you want to live in sin."

Okay, this has got to stop. I have to tell them about our asexuality in a way they'll understand.

"Speaking of which, there's something else you need to know," I said in a calm voice.

Both of them fell silent, probably nervous about what God-awful revelation would come next.

"Neither one of us is interested in..." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Sex. So stop worrying. I'll never be a trash can. And he'll never be the..." I furrowed my brow with a grimace. "Garbage?"

Such a weird analogy.

Grandad scoffed. "He says that now."

"No, you don't understand," I said in a firm tone. "Girls have broken up with him because he doesn't want to be physically intimate. At all."

"Hmpf."

"I don't think you understand what I mean." I took a deep breath. "Like you said, most guys want a lot more than I'm willing to give. French kissing. Intimate touching. Not to mention sex."

"Jessica!" Mom exclaimed. "We didn't raise you to talk like that!"

I ignored her indignant look. "I'm trying to tell you I don't want any of that. I'll never want any of that."

Another round of tense, awkward silence.

"Eric doesn't want it either," I insisted. "Finally I've found a man like me."

Grandad raised his eyebrows while Mom cleared her throat. It took a few moments before they dared to speak.

"Well, that's something at least," said Mom. "He might be an atheist, but at least he's a nice, chaste man keeping himself pure until marriage. That's so rare nowadays."

Oh, boy...

Just speak their language for now. All in good time.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, it is."

"But he isn't a man of the Church," said Mom. "That makes me nervous."

"Mom, I'm a strong woman," I said. "You have to trust me. Isn't it enough that he has good morals and values?"

"Are you sure that he's not... Well, you know...?" Grandad floundered, trying to find the right term. "Whatever the young people call it these days?"

"Eric likes women. He..." It pained me to say it, but they wouldn't understand what the hell asexuality meant. "He's saving himself until marriage. Like you both did."

"Well, I very much want to meet this young man," Mom said with an odd mix of stubborn pride and excitement. "I'd like to get to know him."

"I'm not bringing Eric home so that you can interrogate him!" I crossed my arms. "We've only been talking for a few weeks. Don't scare him off."

"We wouldn't scare him off," said Mom.

"Speak for yourself," muttered Grandad, still in protective bear mode.

"We'd invite him for a nice meal," said Mom, casting Grandad the look of death that made him fall silent. "He could play some music. We'd chat a bit. Maybe play some cards or a board game."

Grandad cut me off before I could answer. "Never mind that. How did you keep in touch with him all this time?"

Don't tell him the truth. They won't understand, and they'll freak out for no reason.

"We've been chatting."

"You don't use the phone that much," said Mom. "And you've only talked to Carolyn."

Thanks for admitting that you listen in on my calls.

"We chat online, Mom." I sighed. "Everyone my age does it."

"That explains the hours on the computer recently," Grandad said.

"I've also been studying," I said, rolling my eyes. "My IQ hasn't dropped forty points just because I like a guy."

Jesus, Mary, and freaking Joseph!

"I don't understand." Mom shrugged. "How can you know someone by typing?"

"People used to send letters to each other," I retorted. "This is no different. Just faster."

"After they knew each other."

"Look," I said in a pointed tone. "I like Eric. A lot. For once, I'm with a guy doesn't want more than I can give. So if you could--with all due respect---chill, that'd be great."

Grandad raised a quizzical brow, and Mom gaped at me.

"Because he's the kind of guy you'd dream I'd date," I added. "Trust me."

"I did," he growled. "Until you did all this sneaking around."

"With all due respect, if you'd just let me live, I wouldn't have to sneak around."

Grandad and Mom exchanged a look that could only mean, I told you so.

"I'll tell the truth from now on if you promise to relax a little," I said. "My acceptance letters will be coming soon. Not to mention finals. I have far more important things to worry about right now than sneaking around with Eric."

"Fine," said Grandad. "Let us meet him, and you can date him in peace."

"Alrighty then." I huffed. "Thank you."

"One more question," Mom said. "What does he look like?"

That was Mom's diplomatic way of asking if he was in the same ethnic group as us. I'd be damned if I was going to buy into that nineteenth century crap.

My cheeks flushed crimson. "He's kind of nerd-chic, I guess. Handsome."

So there.

Who cares what they think? Let them meet. Not much longer now.

Only a few more months and you're free.