CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE PHONErang three times. I started chewing my nails, waiting for it to be answered. What could I say? It had been several years since we last spoke. Charlie told me I didn’t have to do this, but he was wrong. I needed to clear the air if I wanted to move forward with my life.
“Hello?”
The voice sounded older. A lot wearier than I remembered. Nervousness gnawed at my stomach because I knew a lot of it had to do with me.
“Hi, Mom.”
She gasped, and I heard her sob. I could picture her perfectly as she wrung her hands, and guilt welled up inside me. “Matt? Is it really you?”
“Yes’m,” I whispered, the feelings of how I’d disappointed her, the sadness and pain almost crushing me. It was so easy to cut myself off, to pretend like it didn’t matter, and then one small, insignificant thing brought it all rushing back.
“I—how are you?”
“I’m okay. How about you?”
She gave a rueful laugh. “I have a little bit of arthritis in my hands, but I’m still making pies for Christmas.”
Every year my mother made pies and took them to Mr. Gianetti. He and his family, along with many others in the town, got together and did a food bank for those who weren’t as fortunate. Back when I was a kid, too many people had to use it, because in a town like ours, jobs were hard to come by. I’d forgotten how important that was to her.
“I don’t want to sound rude, but why are you calling? Not that you can’t call,” she hastened to add. “It’s just… it’s been a while.”
She sounded so sad, and I didn’t know how to make it better. I hadn’t called to upset her, but that seemed to be the result. Charlie squeezed my hand, which helped me to focus. “I know what you and Clay did with Charlie.”
Her voice broke when she spoke. “I know. Clay’s devastated that he hurt you. And I’m so very sorry too. We just wanted you back. I know it was wrong of us, but—”
She had to stop. It wasn’t her fault. None of this was. It never had been. One event from my past had left me vulnerable. Not weak, because Charlie was right. I wasn’t weak at all. But my teacher had violated my trust, had made me push everyone else away, because I feared being hurt again.
“Mom, I want to go back to therapy,” I interjected.
“You… do?” She sounded confused.
“Yes. I’m not sure how I feel about what you and Clay did, but… well, I fell in love with Charlie. I need him, but in order to be with him, I need to come to terms with who I am. In order to do that, I need to go back to see Dr. Rob.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I knew you’d like Charlie. He seemed to be made for you.”
The pictures I’d had of lean-bodied baseball players, whose posters covered my walls, gave away my preferences pretty easily.
“He’s a writer,” I told her, proud of that fact.
“I know. I read his books.”
Charlie had told me she’d read his book, so that didn’t surprise me. Much. But the thought of my mom reading some of the hot scenes had me scratching my head. “Youread gay sex?”
She gave a snort. “I told you so many times, Matt, love is love. And even on paper, I could tell that Donald cares for Lucien very much. If you found a love like that, then I’m so happy for you.”
I hadn’t spoken to her for years. She should be angry. She probably would be right in hanging up on me for how I’d treated her. Instead she was telling me that she still loved me, and how happy she was that I’d found love. I could feel the burning in my eyes and knew the tears wouldn’t be far behind. God, I’d become so emotional since I met Charlie. He must have seen, because he put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I needed him, so I allowed it without complaint.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I wailed. “I know you have to hate me, but—”
“You stop that!” she snapped. Then in a softer voice, she said, “You’re my son. I could never hate you. I won’t deny it hurt when you pulled away from us, but do you think I didn’t understand? I know that my telling you I wanted you to be normal had to hurt you every bit as bad. Worse, because you were just a kid. I was supposed to be the adult, and I let my hurt feelings get the better of me. It was a cruel thing for me to say, and I regret it more than you’ll ever know.”
But I did know. I understood it better than she realized. I stewed in my hurt for years, and it festered. It became my mantra about why I was better off alone, because no one could hurt me then. I didn’t need them to do it, though. I was hurting myself enough.
“Does Clay know?” Mom asked. “He was furious when he found out that Charlie was still out there with you.”
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “No,” I answered. “I’ll call him later. But I wanted to tell you that…. I wanted to say….” The lump in my throat made it so hard to get the words out. Even if she wasn’t angry with me, I was upset with myself. I’d acted out and walked away from the only person who had ever given me anything without conditions. She deserved so much better than me for a son. “Mom, I love you.”
