about anything,” she answered, just as he knew she would. “You okay?”
She probably anticipated him opening up about the things he normally wouldn’t discuss. There would come a time when he’d have to voice
them, but not now. No, in a way Iraq might be easier to talk about as so much of his tour amount to gaping holes in his memory, fragments of disjointed
events like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing.
Michael turned to gaze out the side window. Not looking at his mother made talking easier somehow. Why he felt compelled to speak up at all he
didn’t know, but with the sermon and his recent acknowledgement that he was gay, he needed reassurance of her love and that she
wouldn’t judge. The preacher called homosexuality a choice but Michael didn’t believe it. Why would he choose to jeopardize his
relationships with his family and risk being ostracized? Who would do that? He thought back on the genuine love between his two friends in the unit. Even
though they tried so hard not to let their affection show, Ryan and Jimmy were crazy about each other. How could someone pretend a thing like that? And who
could fault them for taking what happiness they could in life?
He recalled that one of his mother’s proudest moments came when he’d gotten into a fight to defend a gay classmate, even though he
hardly knew the guy. It was the principle of the thing. Three big rednecks against one average-sized teenager weren’t fair odds. She’d
praised Michael the whole way to the local high school for defending the weak and helpless. She’d even gotten his suspension reversed. But that
was someone else’s gay kid, not her own. Then he was a hero, now the shoe definitely fit the other foot.
Michael sighed before beginning what could very well be the end of his relationship as he knew it with his mother. He hoped not, but he wouldn’t
lie to her. “Mom,” he said past the lump in his throat, “I have reason to believe that I might not be totally
straight.”
A moment’s silence, then, “How long have you felt this way?” She kept her tone neutral, giving away nothing about what she
might be thinking.
Well, he supposed it was a reasonable question, after all. “I guess I began to suspect when we lived in Biloxi.” He slammed the door on
the memory of the dark-haired Cajun boy who’d lived next door and on whom Michael had had his first crush.
“Oh, that long, huh? You were thirteen when we left Biloxi.” She grew pensive and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind.
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I wasn’t really sure at the time and didn’t know how you’d take it. Besides,” he said, unable to keep
the bitterness from his voice, “you can just imagine what Crawford would have said.” He shuddered inwardly at the memory of the bigoted
asshole who’d spent way too many years in his life.
“Now you know you could have at least talked it over with me. I could have kept it from Crawford.” Did she have to sound so hurt?
“I just wasn’t sure, ya know? You could very easily have screamed at me that I was going to Hell for being a disgusting
pervert.”
Like the church folk do
remained unsaid. “Believe me, this isn’t something I dreamed up, no matter what
the preacher said. It’s how I feel. I didn’t just decide one day to be different.”
“I never would have thought that.”
“Yeah, well that seems to be the general consensus around here.” Michael picked an imaginary piece of lint from his
sleeve—anything to avoid seeing disgust in his mother’s eyes.
“Michael Aaron Ritter! Don’t you dare accuse me of being like those narrow-minded, self-righteous idiots in this little podunk town.
You know me better than that.”
“C’mon, Ma. Today’s not the first Hellfire for Gays sermon I’ve sat through.”
Her mouth dropped open. “And all this time, I’ve dragged you to church with me, and you never said a word.”
“I like church, Mom,
She probably anticipated him opening up about the things he normally wouldn’t discuss. There would come a time when he’d have to voice
them, but not now. No, in a way Iraq might be easier to talk about as so much of his tour amount to gaping holes in his memory, fragments of disjointed
events like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing.
Michael turned to gaze out the side window. Not looking at his mother made talking easier somehow. Why he felt compelled to speak up at all he
didn’t know, but with the sermon and his recent acknowledgement that he was gay, he needed reassurance of her love and that she
wouldn’t judge. The preacher called homosexuality a choice but Michael didn’t believe it. Why would he choose to jeopardize his
relationships with his family and risk being ostracized? Who would do that? He thought back on the genuine love between his two friends in the unit. Even
though they tried so hard not to let their affection show, Ryan and Jimmy were crazy about each other. How could someone pretend a thing like that? And who
could fault them for taking what happiness they could in life?
He recalled that one of his mother’s proudest moments came when he’d gotten into a fight to defend a gay classmate, even though he
hardly knew the guy. It was the principle of the thing. Three big rednecks against one average-sized teenager weren’t fair odds. She’d
praised Michael the whole way to the local high school for defending the weak and helpless. She’d even gotten his suspension reversed. But that
was someone else’s gay kid, not her own. Then he was a hero, now the shoe definitely fit the other foot.
Michael sighed before beginning what could very well be the end of his relationship as he knew it with his mother. He hoped not, but he wouldn’t
lie to her. “Mom,” he said past the lump in his throat, “I have reason to believe that I might not be totally
straight.”
A moment’s silence, then, “How long have you felt this way?” She kept her tone neutral, giving away nothing about what she
might be thinking.
Well, he supposed it was a reasonable question, after all. “I guess I began to suspect when we lived in Biloxi.” He slammed the door on
the memory of the dark-haired Cajun boy who’d lived next door and on whom Michael had had his first crush.
“Oh, that long, huh? You were thirteen when we left Biloxi.” She grew pensive and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind.
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“I wasn’t really sure at the time and didn’t know how you’d take it. Besides,” he said, unable to keep
the bitterness from his voice, “you can just imagine what Crawford would have said.” He shuddered inwardly at the memory of the bigoted
asshole who’d spent way too many years in his life.
“Now you know you could have at least talked it over with me. I could have kept it from Crawford.” Did she have to sound so hurt?
“I just wasn’t sure, ya know? You could very easily have screamed at me that I was going to Hell for being a disgusting
pervert.”
Like the church folk do
remained unsaid. “Believe me, this isn’t something I dreamed up, no matter what
the preacher said. It’s how I feel. I didn’t just decide one day to be different.”
“I never would have thought that.”
“Yeah, well that seems to be the general consensus around here.” Michael picked an imaginary piece of lint from his
sleeve—anything to avoid seeing disgust in his mother’s eyes.
“Michael Aaron Ritter! Don’t you dare accuse me of being like those narrow-minded, self-righteous idiots in this little podunk town.
You know me better than that.”
“C’mon, Ma. Today’s not the first Hellfire for Gays sermon I’ve sat through.”
Her mouth dropped open. “And all this time, I’ve dragged you to church with me, and you never said a word.”
“I like church, Mom,
Similar Books
