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“I will. I’m not afraid to stand up for myself anymore.”
“That’s really good, man. Those spankings must be toughening you up.”
I snort. “Pure bliss, bro-friend. You don’t even know.”
“Don’t you dare give Dixon any ideas,” he says. “That man would be insufferable if I let him spank me.”
“Yeah, no. Can you imagine?”
He chuckles. “You doing okay, though?”
“Yeah, truly, I’m good. Talk later?”
“You got it. See ya.”
After hanging up with Niko, I stare at my phone for a long while before dialing my mom. She picks up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
Her tone is somewhat hesitant, and I can’t blame her. I haven’t been the first to call in years, and our last conversation wasn’t the best.
“Hi, Mom. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.”
“I just… I wanted to apologize for how our last visit went. I know things between us have been strained for a long time, and there are topics we don’t see eye-to-eye on. But you guys made the effort to come see me because, in your own way, I think you care. And I appreciate that.”
“Thank you, Kipling,” she says quietly.
I blow out a slow breath. “That being said, I like who I am. I like my life and am proud of my sexuality, and I’m married to a man. Those are simple facts. And if you guys can’t support that, there shouldn’t be more visits. It hurts, more than I can properly convey, to hear you tell me I’m wrong as a person. That you believe I’m going to hell. I’m open to talking, to maybe even getting together, but not if you can’t find it in your heart to accept me for who I am. That’s a deal-breaker for me.”
I can hear my mom breathing over the line, the both of us quiet in the aftermath of my short speech. Finally, she says, “Your father won’t accept it, Kipling.”
“No, I don’t expect he will. And you?”
Another pause before she says, “I don’t know.”
“Fair enough,” I answer, my eyes stinging. It’s not that I expected otherwise, I’d just…hoped.
“I’ll talk to your father and Vaughn,” she says. “But if you don’t hear from me…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence, but it’s clear enough. If I don’t hear from them, then that’s it. It hurts more than I want to admit, the finality of that statement. This is my mom. The woman who raised me. The woman who loved me in her own way, and I loved her in mine.
But I deserve better than the treatment they’ve given me. I know I do. Words can hurt just as much as fists.
I want to believe everything will work out in the end. That she, if not my father and brother, will open her heart and her mind enough to see that there’s no shame in loving a person of the same gender. There’s no sin in it.
But I know things don’t always work out that way. And there’s a chance this is it. That this is goodbye.
The right decisions aren’t always the easy ones, are they?
“I wish you well, Mom,” I finally say.
“You, too, Kipling.”
And then she’s gone. Just like that.
Fuck.
