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“Just before the pandemic and the lockdown started, her landlord found her dead in her shitty little apartment. Alone. Renal failure: diabetes and hypertension. Bottle of Bombay Sapphire and a box of Ritz on the table beside her.
“Always thought we’d work it out down the road, you know? She’d sober up; we’d have a mother-daughter talk. Get some closure. Never happened. Never will.
“I decided to go back to Indiana for the funeral. A few of my relatives – not many, but enough – were on mom’s side of the whole queer thing. But the closure would be worth the stress of them whispering and nudging each other, you know? I’d spent my adolescence being there for mom. Figured, one last time, I’d do what she couldn’t.
“Corinne and I were in the bedroom, arguing about it. She didn’t want me to go. Said it’d just upset me. Said old wounds should stay closed. Said I shouldn’t put myself in a position where small-minded bigots would be judgmental. She got more passionate as she argued.
“When she said I didn’t have to atone for the sins of a bitter old drunk, all the anger came out. Anger at her for not understanding. Anger at dad. If he’d lived, maybe mom never would have reached for a bottle. Anger at mom for being weak.”
Alex paused, steeling herself to go on. In the silence, Mateo said, “I got you.”
Alex shook her head slowly. Mateo nodded slowly and repeated, “I got you.”
“I pushed Corinne. It was just instinctive, but it had anger behind it. She lost her footing, fell backwards. Her head went through the bedroom window.
“You know how, in the movies, there’s a way glass shatters? That’s because it’s a prop. Real windows aren’t like that. Her head’s snaps back, and she’s surrounded by jagged shards. It’s like a giant mouth with all these sharp teeth still in the frame.
“We’re in a fourth floor apartment, and she’s practically hanging out the window. She cut the back of her neck, and there’s a piece of glass sticking out of her shoulder. I acted on instinct, grabbed her by the belt and pulled her back in. I pulled her in, and her arm raked against one of those teeth. Opened a gash from her wrist to just above her elbow.”
“She screams, and for a second, I don’t know what to do. Corinne fell to the floor. I got her a towel, called 911. Ambulance took her to the hospital; cruiser took me to the station.
“I’d thought I’d be charged with assault or domestic abuse, but Corinne wouldn’t press charges. I don’t know why. She refused to talk to me. A week later, I was served with a restraining order. That was two years ago.
“Except for work, therapy and this group, I’ve stayed to myself since. Haven’t even been interested in being with anyone else. Nothing was worth the risk. Until you, Gael. I want to live with you. I want everything that goes with that.
“But when the glass hit the floor, I remembered: I don’t deserve that. I’m one of the monsters. That first night? You said you trusted me. What if I hurt you? God, what if I hurt your daughter? I’m sorry, I can’t. I don’t deserve it.”
Mateo held Alex’s hand. Christy looked up from the floor and offered words of encouragement. Gael stood and walked out the room.
Alex had found no tears to mourn her mother’s death. She’d felt deep remorse, but had not cried over Corinne. At the sight of Gael leaving, the levee broke and decades worth of tears came in a flood.
The meeting concluded, Alex found Gael sitting on the church steps. All traces of the mantis were gone.
“You’re still here?” Alex said. “I thought. . . Doesn’t matter. Can I sit?”
Gael nodded. They sat in silence as the last group members headed to their cars. They sat in silence as Leonard locked the door behind him. They sat in silence for a while thereafter.
“Thank you for coming,” said Alex. “I knew losing you would be the cost, but I wanted you to hear it. You deserve the truth.”
“That first night we were together,” Gael began.” You kept checking in. ‘Are you feeling safe?’ Why did you do that?”
Alex said, “I saw that you were pretty insecure about your body. I knew you’d need to feel safe to open up to someone else. I wanted it to be special for you, however things went between us.”
“I know you know this,” said Gael slowly, “but I’m going to say it anyway. My bottoming for you is a thing between us. It doesn’t mean that I’m weak or indecisive outside the bedroom.”
“I know that,” said Alex.
Gael nodded thoughtfully. “The way you do that, how you make me more confident, it’s made the last five weeks the best of my life. I don’t want that to end. I need you to understand that I didn’t hear anything in there tonight that changed how I feel about you or what I want.”
“But,” said Alex, “how can you feel safe, knowing what I am, what I did?”
“You said that meeting was your safe space. I left because I respect that. I didn’t want to make it about us or about me. And I needed to think. Can you listen now?
“You’re no monster. You have trauma. Sounds like more than one trauma point in your life. The trauma sometimes expresses itself in anger, little bursts that make you feel out of control, right?”
Alex nodded.
“Up until I came out, I believed I was damaged. Anyone who loved me was just deluded, because I knew I was unlovable. Being closeted was nonstop trauma. I hated myself for being different. I hated having to lie. I hated everyone and everything that convinced me I needed to lie to survive. When I’d see queer events, when I’d go to pride parades with Michelle and Marisol, I hated myself for being too afraid to be out.
