Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Please don’t make a scene,” Mom said.
“I’m not. I’m just being me. When I left here, I swore I would never hide who I was again, yet I do it every time I come home. I’m not doing it anymore. There’s nothing wrong with who I am.”
“The Bible—”
“God doesn’t give a shit about makeup, Ma.”
“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Dad snapped.
“We just worry about you!” Mom began to cry. “We love you.”
Dad moved to leave, but I said, “Stop.” He froze for a moment, then turned around. This had been a long time coming, and I knew I needed to do it. I would regret it forever if I didn’t. “I love you both too, I really do, but you can’t keep doing this to me. I’m not the son you wanted. I get that, but I never will be. You either accept me for who I am, without talk about my soul or my looks or the guilt about the farm, or…or I can’t keep doing this. There is nothing wrong with who I am,” I repeated.
Mom was crying, but Dad was silent, and I turned toward him. “Do you know how many nights I spent crying because I was afraid to let you down? That you wouldn’t love me? I used to pray every day to be the son you wanted, to make you proud. I wanted to be like you so much, but those prayers were never answered, and maybe they weren’t because I’m not supposed to be. Maybe I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be, and that’s okay.” Dad closed his eyes, and now I was crying too. “I just want… I just want you to love me for me.”
“We love you,” Mom said, but I was looking at Dad.
He cleared his throat, and surprisingly, swiped at his face like maybe, just maybe, he was almost crying too. “I love you, son.”
“Do you? Can you love me like this? You can’t even talk to me.”
“I don’t know how to talk to you. I’ve never been good at sayin’ the kinds of things you want to hear.” He’d never been good at emotions, was what he meant, and I had always been too emotional.
“You talk to me like I’m a person, like I’m your son. That’s it. And you ask about my day and my friends and school. You ask, even if you’re not interested, the same way I ask about the farm and the same way you ask Mom about her sewing. Because that’s what you do when you love someone…when you accept them and don’t try to change them or make them feel bad about who they are. I can’t change your beliefs, but I don’t want to hear about them anymore. I’m so damn tired of hearing about them.”
The room was silent then. It was the most I had ever told them about how I felt, and fuck if it didn’t feel good to get it out.
“And maybe you talk to some people too, like organizations or whatever, and you try to understand what it means to have a queer child. And I’ll try more too, but I can’t do it alone. I won’t.”
More silence. I turned to walk away, but Dad grabbed my arm, stopped me, looked at me. “You really wanted to be like me?”
“I wanted to make you proud,” I admitted.
“I…” And then he hugged me. I couldn’t remember the last time he hugged me, and Mom was hugging me too. She and I were crying, and when we stopped, Dad said softly, “I’ll try.” And it was more than he’d ever said before. It was a start.
34
Dane
It was Sunday afternoon, and I was brimming with untapped energy and tension as I waited in the Greyhound parking lot for Jesse.
He’d only been gone four days, but it hit me like a ton of bricks that morning how much I missed him. Even though we texted a bunch, and talked late into the night, and he told me all about the chickens and cows on his family’s farm and how he’d confronted his parents about acceptance. The story had gotten me choked up, and I almost confessed more of my confusing feelings to him, but instead I swallowed them down because the truth was, I was fucking scared of everything going on in my head. And in my heart.
I got out of my car as soon as I spotted him exiting the building, butterflies beating their wings wildly in my stomach, especially when his face split into a dazzling smile and he practically flung himself into my arms.
“You smell so good,” he said into my neck as I wound my arms around his waist and pulled him closer.
“Do I?” I buried my nose in his hair and felt instantly calmer. “Been running errands all day.”