“Em, honey, please,” my mother pleads, and I watch my sister retreat to the garage.
But my father’s not finished. Turning his gaze on me, his voice full of spite, he says, “You’re moving out? Good luck. The Chapel is family property. You’d better start looking for another place to live. And a job because we’re not funding your lifestyle. You need to live with the consequences of the choices you’ve made.” He shakes his head in disgust. “You’re no son of mine.”
His words enrage me and where I’d have kept silent before, being with Ian has changed me. I know my worth now, even though he’s gone. “Why?” I challenge. “Because I’m gay? Or because I no longer follow your stupid, arbitrary rules?”
“I’ll figure it out,” I tell him. “I have my boys, my family, my coach. I’ll be okay, no thanks to you.”
“It’s a sin, Booker! That may not be ‘pc’ or whatever bullshit term you want to use now, but those are the facts. You are choosing a life of sin over a life with your family. I hope you’re happy with the choices you’ve made. You’ve broken your mother’s heart. Your sisters no longer have an older brother to look up to. And why? Because you are choosing to succumb to your urges even though you know they’re wrong.”
“No, they’re not. The agenda you’re spewing? That’s not based on religion. It’s based in fear and bigotry. I could explain the difference. I could quote you Bible verses. I could give you hundreds of examples of accepting churches and pastors. But I won’t waste my breath. You’re not worth my anger or my time.” I give Fallon a quick hug before picking up my stuff, but before I can open the door, I hear the French doors at the back of the house slam. My father has stormed out, but it’s only a matter of time before he’ll be back with his hate and anger.
“I’m taking Emersyn to get ice cream,” Fallon signs. “She won the spelling bee.”
I smile at the lie as my sister leaves, and now it’s just me and my mom. She’s a beautiful woman, and I’m not just saying that because we share similar features. Her skin is flawless, her eyes a brilliant blue. But they’ve lost their shine. Living here with my dad can’t be easy. He’s gotten worse over the years, more demeaning, more controlling. What I’ve never understood is why she chooses to stay.
“Booker, honey,” my mom begins, “you didn’t say you were coming today. I could have had everything boxed up. Maybe even sent it over to Kristy’s… I really wish you would’ve said something, so we could have avoided all of this.”
“So what? If we ignore it, it’s not happening? That’s flawed logic, Mom. Your husband just denounced me as his child,” I remind her, my voice strained, “and you’re telling me we could have avoided that if you snuck my stuff into the neighbor’s garage? Mom, there’s no going back. I’m gay.”
“That’s not what I meant, honey. Just that we could have avoided a scene. Your father should never have said those hateful words, but you know how he is when he’s angry. He doesn’t mean it,” she says, the lie rolling off her tongue because she wants it to be true.
“Yeah, Mom, he does. My question is, do you agree with him?” It’s a hard question to ask, but I have to know. Sure, my mom has never voiced the opinions that my dad has, but her silence hasn’t helped.
“Oh, Booker, no,” her voice is full of pain. “You have the right to love whomever you choose. You deserve nothing but happiness.” Brushing her tears aside, she looks at me for a moment, her eyes shining. “Don’t ever accept anything less, Booker. Don’t ever settle.”
The air hangs heavily between us before my mom speaks again. “I wish it could have been different. I wish he wasn’t so hard, so inflexible. I wish he could see how amazing his children are.”
“It could have been different, Mom,” I say, the words harsh, but my tone gentle.
Tears stream down her face. “Booker, please—”
I shake my head. This moment is so much harder than the confrontation with my father a few minutes ago. “No, Mom. I can’t.Not this time. I can’t stay. I can’t visit. I can’t be quiet. I can’t apologize. I won’t be bullied. I can’t compromise and sacrifice. I’m leaving.”
Her tears tug at my heart, though I should be used to them by now. “What can I do?” she pleads.
“You can take care of Fallon and Em. You can protect them. You can make sure this doesn’t happen again. Because let’s face it, the fact that I’m gay is just the surface of the issue. I’ve never been good enough for him. I’ve got a 3.8 GPA at a prestigious university, and I helped lead my team to the Frozen Four. But that’s not good enough for him. My sin is that I’m gay. Fallon’s is what? That she wants to live life on her own terms? That she doesn’t want to conform to a society that won’t conform to her? And Em? She’s fierce as hell. Smarter than Fallon and me combined. What’s her sin gonna be? It doesn’t matter. He’ll find something.”
I stand and gather my things, and my mom sits there, crying silently, her whole body shaking. Unable to leave like this, I wrap her in my arms one final time.“You want to know what you can do, Mom? Get them the hell away from him.”
As I leave my childhood home, my heart is heavy. I wasn’t supposed to do this part alone. Ian was supposed to be here with me. He should be holding me now, so I can fall apart in his arms. None of this has gone as planned, and though I want to hate him for breaking my heart, I can’t regret a minute of the time we were together. I can’t regret loving him.
* * *
Ian
The QuikTok app is a funny thing. The algorithm populates content that is similar to what you’ve watched or liked, so my feed is usually a steady stream of psychology and sexuality and videos on how to brew the perfect cup of tea.
But not these days.
It’s all sad songs and longing.
Every clip is about an ex or a breakup. God, it’s like they’re inside my head, and they know what I’m thinking and feeling. As creepy and dystopian as that sounds, it’s not even the worst part. That would be the fact that every other video reminds me of Booker. I spend a few weeks in a hockey player’s bed, and suddenly my profile page is flooded with game stats, merch advertisements, and even ads for hockey romance novels.
There’s no escaping him.
I head into work almost daily, teach my classes, and write my thesis. It’s more than enough to keep me busy, but my mind still wanders back to him. How’s he doing? How bad was the fallout with his parents? I left for a good reason: to spare him the pain of having to sacrifice everything he loves just for me. He can’t give up school, or the house he shares with his friends, or his last year of hockey. Not for me.
I know I made the right choice, the only choice. But that doesn’t make my heart hurt any less.
