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A little late now.I held it back, biting my cheek.
“I won’t ask you to accept my apology. Not yet. But I know I’ve handled this terribly. Not just the day you told me, but every day before and since.” Mom’s blue eyes bored into me meaningfully. “This has all gone so wrong, Peter. Can we start over?”
“How do we do that?” I was already grown. I couldn’t reverse that.
Mom’s lips twisted up into a self-deprecating smile. “As a writer, sometimes I have to go back and chuck entire chapters and rewrite every single bit. Conversations are especially tricky. My characters don’t always say what they should have the first time around.” Her eyes softened with hope. “Sometimes life is like that too.”
Hope fluttered.
“Can we pretend you just told me?” Mom asked.
I didn’t know if it’d work, but I wanted it to. Tears filling my eyes, I choked out, “Mom, I’m gay.”
She stood, came around the counter, and her familiar arms hugged me tight. “I love you so much, Peter.”
“I love you too.” My voice trembled.
She grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her, wiping my tears with the cool pads of her fingers. “When did you know?” she asked.
“Han Solo,” I said, and she laughed wetly, tears clogging her throat too.
Stroking my chin with her thumb, she sighed. “Ah, Han Solo. I can see that.”
“When did you suspect?” I asked, pulling away to wipe my tears with my sleeve.
She tensed and I regretted asking. “When you were five.”
“That young?”
She nodded, guilt and misery lining her face. “There was just something about you that reminded me so much of George.” She hugged me tightly again, and I let her. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I wish I’d admitted it to myself then, so I could have been there for you.”
“Me too.”
We cried together for a few minutes, her hand stroking my hair soothingly.
Eventually, we broke apart. I blew my nose on a napkin and wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. Mom used a napkin on her face, too, before sitting on her stool again. We smiled at each other tentatively.
“This might come as a surprise, but I’m okay with you being gay, Peter.”
I snorted, my tear-damp eyelashes sticking together. “Could have fooled me.”
Mom hesitated. “I deserve that, but I thought we’d agreed to a fresh start?”
“It’s not that simple. When it comes to me and how being gay has affected every aspect of my life, it can’t be that simple.”
“You’re right. I won’t tell you how to feel.” She looked deep into my eyes. “Iamokay with you being gay, Peter.”
“Then why did you fight it all these years?”
“Because I’m terrified for you. Absolutely scared out of my mind.” Her eyes flashed wide. “I know what can go wrong. I’ve seen what can happen.” She touched her chest. “It’s seared into me forever.”
I swallowed hard.
“So, yes, it’s true. All these years, I numbed out. I turned a blind eye. I refused to acknowledge it. But that’s my problem, Peter. Not yours.”
“It sure feels like it’s mine,” I whispered.
Mom reached her hand across to me, but I didn’t take it. She said, “I don’t want you to feel that way anymore. I don’t want you to be alone with this.” I relented, threading our fingers together. “You’re amazing. I love you, and I accept you. I do.” Mom squeezed my hand. “Peter, nothing could ever make me stop loving you.”
