Page 26 of Brought By the Storm

My father pushed his plate away and bellowed, “Goddammit, are you a homo?”

I gulped. He hadn’t beaten me since I had started college, but he seemed close to doing so now. The look of disgust on my mother’s face made me realize she would welcome it. I was scared, but I was also tired of being so. It was obvious that any answer other than ‘I’m straight’ would lead to the same nasty outcome, so maybe it was better to tell the truth and be done with it. “Yes,” I whispered.

My father picked up his glass of water and hurled it at me. It hit my shoulder before bouncing and smashing against the wall. He stared me down with unadulterated hatred, then stormed from the room. I looked over to my mother, and she was crying. I knew it wasn’t with sympathy for me. After a few minutes, she spoke. “I didn’t want to believe it. I don’t know what’s wrong with you. We never did anything to cause you to be this way.”

“I know,” I managed.

“Your father told me that if he found out you’re like Troy, he wants you out and you can find a way to pay for college yourself,” she informed me.

Although I knew the answer, I didn’t want her to absolve herself from being a co-conspirator, so I asked, “And what do you want?”

“I want you to be normal!”

“Do you want me to leave?” I asked, trying to keep from sobbing.

She glared at me. “If you’re not going to change.”

I swallowed, a tear escaping. “I can’t change.”

My mother shook her head in disgust. “You should pack your things. I’ll drive you to the train station, and I’ll give you money to get you back to school. The semester, including room and board, is paid for. You’d better think about how you’re going to support yourself once the semester is done.”

Within an hour, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of my mother’s SUV, willing myself to keep my dignity and stay calm. My mother didn’t speak during the ride, nor as I was exiting and retrieving my bag. I thought she might at least say goodbye or suggest that she’d call some time, but she said nothing. I shut the door and watched her drive away—knowing I was dead to my parents.

* * * *

Present day

“Eric! Eric, wake up,” the voice was saying. It was unfamiliar. No, wait. It was Carrington, and I couldn’t understand why he was standing with me watching my mother drive away. “Eric,” he called again.

I opened my eyes, feeling disoriented. “What?” My mind was fuzzy.

“You were having a bad dream,” Carrington was saying.

I looked around. I was in my own bed, and Carrington was sleeping with me. “Oh,” I managed, rubbing my eyes. Carrington was staring at me with concern. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Eric, you were tossing and making this pained sound. I was frightened.”

“Sorry,” I repeated, even though he had told me not to be. “It was stupid. Just reliving something that happened a long time ago.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered. “I’ll try to be quiet.”

Carrington pulled me into his arms. “Eric, I’m not concerned about that. It’s all right. I’ll hold you until you fall back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “I can’t fall back to sleep once I wake up from a nightmare. No reason for both of us to be up until dawn. You already didn’t sleep last night.”

His pretty eyes never left mine. “I’ll be going home soon. I’m content to spend more time with you. We can talk.”

I grinned a little. “I never would have thought when I first met you that you were going to be so nice.” He grimaced. I would have to stop reminding him of his unfortunate first encounter with me. “Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to straight guys. My mother used to talk about how gay men were disgusting with their filthy sex acts.”

“Well, you’re gay. Do you think about filthy sex?” He smiled, no doubt waiting for a snarky answer.

I touched his glossy hair. “Seems I do when I’m with you.”

Bingo! He laughed. “We can have sex if you’d rather. Would that help you sleep?”

“Mm. I don’t know about that. But it would be kind of nice to have sex with someone more than once.”