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My mom and Michael used to work together, and he and Dad met at one of her work functions. They clicked instantly and became friends, and over time, those feelings grew, changed. Neither of them had ever had a single thought—in that way—about another man, so admitting they were gay was incomprehensible. Especially to themselves. They were simply in love with someone who just happened to be the same gender. They were never physical back then, but Dad admits that he was emotionally cheating on my mom for months before he told her. He says he “came out to her,” because it’s the simplest term, but it was so much more complicated than that.
After what my mom did to me, he cut all ties with Michael. He couldn’t deal with the reminder and the guilt of his actions, of his feelings. And he could never tell me—or anyone else—about his sexuality because of the fear Mom’s actions instilled in him.
For fifteen years they had no contact.
None.
Dad never saw anyone else during that time, and neither did Michael. Fifteen fucking years they were alone, and they were lonely, and all because of what my mother did to “hurt” him.
She tried to kill me… as revenge.
Bile sits in my throat the entire time he talks, not because of who is here with him or because he’s gay or because of anything he did, but because of her. Of how much pain her actions caused. And she wasn’t even around to witness it.
Coward.
According to Michael, he finally found the strength to reach out, and with the help of social media, he found me first and then Dad. At this point, Dad adds that the “old friend” he reconnected with that helped him see perspective when it came to my relationship with Ava—that was Michael. Michael, who reminded him that we don’t get to choose who we fall in love with, and the only way to love openly and love freely is to be supported by those who love us in return.
When they realized that their feelings for each other hadn’t changed, Michael moved from Florida to North Carolina to be with Dad.
In secret.
Again.
“That ends now,” I tell them both. “And, sure, it’s going to take me a while to get used to...”
“We understand,” says Dad.
I nod. “I just want you to be happy.”
“And what about you, Connor?”
“I’ll get there,” I say, confident.
Even if it takes me fifteen fucking years.
FORTY
connor
It’s incredibly hard to make sense of the days post-Ava. I know I wake up every day and I go to school, and then I come home, and that’s pretty much all there is to my life. Dad sees my struggle, understands it, and he gives me the time and the space I need to grieve. Because that’s exactly what it feels like. Like waking up twice.
Now, I sit on my porch steps watching Trevor load his truck, his girlfriend, Amy, with him. It feels like forever ago when he was the one to watch me do the opposite. I rub my hands across my shorts, drop my head between my shoulders, because only now do I realize that I haven’t just lost the girl I love, or the only woman I ever considered close enough to be a mother, but I’m also losing a friend—the first friend I made when I got here.
Without another thought, I get to my feet and make my way over. The smile I carry is fake, but the words I say are not: “Is it weird if I tell you that I’m going to miss your dumbass?”
Trevor laughs once, shaking his head. Amy rubs his arm, tells him she’s going inside to make sure she’s got everything. Really, she’s giving us a moment alone, and I appreciate it. Trevor watches her leave before turning to me. “Not weird. You’ve kind of been a staple in my life the past few months. Sitting in my chair, eating my cookies…”
This time, my smile is genuine. “Listen, I know Ava’s blocked my number or whatever, but is it cool if—”
“You know my sister, man. She’s going to make me do the same.”
I nod. It’s true. And I hate that it is.
“It’s nothing against you, though,” he assures. “It’s just easier for her this way. She doesn’t need a reminder of everything she loved and left behind.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I mumble. “So, I guess this is goodbye…”
Trevor looks back at his house and then at me. He leans against his truck, his hands in his pockets. He inhales a breath as if preparing his speech. “I told you when we first met that I thought you had a good head on you, and the more I got to know you, the more I believed that you’re destined for great things.” He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. “Look, I don’t really know what happened between you and Ava, but I do know that you have good in you.” He peers up at me, pokes a finger at my chest, right above my heart. “In here, there’s good. I saw it in the way you treated my sister, in the way you treated Mama Jo. I just… I don’t want you to let what happened here take that away. Keep being good, Connor. And whatever happens, don’t lose sight of your end game, okay?”
