me?”
“Let’s see, could it be you’re as sharp as a whip, or maybe it’s the fact you’re so much fun to be with. It could be the fact that I really enjoy spendin’ time with you. Maybe the fact that I love you has somethin’ to do with it, or it just could be that you’re the handsomest guy on earth, have the body of death, and the sweetest ass I ever seen. Ya know, Mike, I bet it’s all of those things. Oh, and you gotta add to those things that I really admire, respect, and trust you, and you’re the guy I want by my side and at my back ’til we’re both little old men.” He started sobbin’ into my shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy.”
“Jeffy, I swear you’re a saint. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
“If you can’t see it, let’s just agree that you do deserve me, okay?” He finally looked up at me, a sheepish grin on his face.
“Okay, and thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m here for ya. Now, are you ready to continue the conversation?”
“Yeah, I reckon so.” He reached over and turned on the speakerphone again.
“Guy, I’m sorry for jumpin’ on you like that. Mom, I didn’t mean to be rude, but I need to understand. The two things that hurt me the most were my havin’ thought he could help me, and that you didn’t stand up to him for me. If you want any type of contact, let alone a relationship, I gotta deal with the hurt from those two things. To deal with that, I need to understand it first. I reckon I still have a lot of anger and resentment buried. I thought I’d dealt with a bunch of it, but obviously not. I asked you about him, so I do wanna know, just like I want to understand what happened.”
Madeline was silent a moment. She seemed lost in her own private torment. She finally spoke up. “Mike, you have every right to ask that question, and I can’t blame you for being angry with me. The fact I didn’t stand up to your father on your behalf will haunt me to the day I die. I never stopped worrying about you, wondering about you, being afraid for you. When I read stories of street kids prostituting themselves to survive, it tore me apart. When I heard about the gay serial killer who is going up and down the west coast, I couldn’t deal with it, thinking maybe you were or could be one of his victims. I left your father after he kicked you out. We stayed in touch in case either one of us heard from you. I know he regrets what he did, but I regret what I didn’t do even more. At first, I let anger at your father get me through the days and nights. Then, however, I realized I was equally to blame. I tried to kill myself twice. Both times Guy found me. I finally got some counseling and help for all of us. Your father had found PFLAG, and we, all of us, started going to the meetings. It helped a bit, but it never erased the guilt I feel over the fact I did nothing.
“Mike, I don’t even know if I can explain to you my reasons. First of all, at the time, I believed as did your father, that the man is the head of the house, and the wife should listen to him and follow his decisions. I think that is garbage now, but at the time I was stupid enough to believe that.”
I could hear her sobbing as she spoke.
“When your father came to me and told me that you thought that you were gay, I was in a state of shock. I didn’t know anything about it, and I believed that you could never be happy being gay. I was so afraid for you, and I thought maybe God would change you. I was too blind and stupid and close-minded to see that you were the way God made you. By the time I had gotten over my shock, it was already too late. The worst and hardest part of this to admit is that by the time it was too late, I was so ashamed of myself, for not stepping in, for having been unable to handle your coming out, for even worrying what will the neighbors think, that I stayed silent. That is the thing I can never forgive myself for. I hope you can find it in your heart to
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