“You married it.”
“It. That’s a good way to put it. I didn’t marry a man, I married an idea that wormed into my brain and didn’t let me have my own thoughts. He didn’t allow me a moment to think. He fed me my opinions. He told me how to dress, where to go, who to be friends with. There was no me in there anymore. So when you called and said you’d set up trust funds for the kids, my thoughts as dictated by Gerry, were no, fuck you, die, faggot.”
The word hurt. So much more now than it had before. But she was making a point, and I had to let her.
“You never told him I was…”
“You were still questioning when I left, and I figured you’d went the other way. Like a good child of the Lord would.”
“Yeah, not so much,” I said.
“I know,” she breathed.
I reached across the table. “Brey, I’m not out. I know I’m gay, but I’m not out. Please don’t tell anyone. I had something happen yesterday that made me realize I’m just not ready.”
“I wouldn’t, little brother. Not in a million years.” She went back to staring in the cup. “When I was really into the whole cult thing, we…did that. Outed people. In the name of bringing them to Jesus. It was actually one of those that…” She sighed and held out her arm.
A smooth white scar ran from her wrist to about a third of the way up, following the clearest vein under her skin.
She’d tried to kill herself.
When I looked back her, terrible fat tears were rolling down her face. “He was just sixteen. He wasn’t bothering anyone, he wasn’t mean or cruel or even the little bit bad. Gerry discovered that this kid was gay—because Gerry used to lure them in and try to get them to interact with him.
“He—weouted him to his family. They sent him to the conversion camp our church had set up and after just two nights there, he killed himself. He left a long, sweet letter telling us how Jesus wouldn’t judge him for his suicide as harshly as we had for his homosexuality. Something inside me broke. We’d destroyed a child over something that, in the large scope of the universe and our souls, didn’t make a hill of beans.
“I cut myself open that night.” She gave a bitter laugh and smeared her tears away. “Thankfully, I’m terrible at anatomy and missed most of the vein. Carly found me and called the doctor.
“They put me in isolation with nothing but a Bible and the warning to consider the sin I had committed against the Lord. I was in there for six weeks.
“I read that Bible six times and realized how wrong everything about that damn cult was. Slowly I started to come out of the fog of what had been my life. It took me a year to finally find myself and another year to extract me and the kids. That Taylor found me was a miracle. We’d been floating and running for the past year.”
She flopped her arm back out on to the table. “That will always remind me I destroyed a sweet young man over someone else’s wrong views, and I will never let it happen again.”
I walked around the table and wrapped my arms around my big sister and hugged her, hard. She turned and hugged me right back, just as hard.
“I missed Daddy’s funeral,” she wept. “I missed all of your success and triumphs. The hounds of Hell could not have dragged me away from that seat last night, watching my little brother conquer more hearts on Broadway.”
“You are living here now,” I said, with no room for question in my voice. “This is your home. The kids have their rooms and so do you. We’ll get them enrolled in school and get you all settled in.”
“Gerry—”
“Gerry is hillfolk. He’s not going to come out to the big city to find you. He’ll chalk it up to a loss and let it all go.”
“No, he wants the kids,” she whispered. “He couldn’t give a shit aboutme,but he wants Carly and Devon back.”
“Then they’ll have bodyguards, and I’ll have them driven to school every day.”
“Austin!”
“Aubrey! I’m rich. And they won’t be the only kids with bodyguards. There are a lot of celebrities in this city. We’ll find a private school with good security on top of all that.”
“Little brother you—”
I put a finger over her lips. “You turned me down once. You’re not doing it again. I own this insane apartment. I can afford your kids in a private school. I also want you to think about something else for me.”
She tilted her head and I realized I still had my finger on her lips. Smiling, she asked, “What’s that?”
“Counseling. For you and the kids. You escaped him physically, but have you escaped him mentally?” I traced a finger down the scar, and she flinched. “You need to talk to someone who will help you. Not me. I’m everything that he told you was wrong. But someone who can help you piece all of you back together.”
