Page 565 of End Game

Dad's voice is low when he finally speaks. “You know what we believe.”

“Yes.”

“Then why would you come here and tell us this?”

The question surprises me. Not because I don't understand it.

Because the answer is so obvious.

“Because I'm your son.”

Mom makes a sound—small and broken.

I keep going. “And because I'm done letting you believe I'm living a life that doesn't exist.”

Dad's eyes close briefly. “You're living in sin.”

He doesn't yell.

He doesn't sound angry.

He sounds tired.

Almost sad.

“Yes,” I say.

Dad's head comes up.

I clarify before he can misunderstand. “According to what you believe.”

“What Scripture says.”

“What you believe Scripture says.”

His jaw tightens. “Micah.”

“I'm not here to argue theology.”

“Then what are you here to do?”

“Tell you the truth.”

Mom wipes under one eye. “How long?”

I know what she means. “Being queer?”

Her mouth trembles. “Yes.”

“Most of my life.”

She stares at me. “You've known all this time?”

“I've known enough.”

“And you never told us.”

“No.”