The Telling Read online

  Then came the defining moment, the night before returning home, when he’d turned a corner from which there was no going back. The first time he’d held a man, had one in his bed, he knew what had been missing in all those past experiences and what he wanted. There’d be hell to pay to get it.

  Five minutes before services ended his mother took his hand and pressed two small pills into his palm. “Take this and don’t argue,” she hissed, while everyone else sang the closing hymn. He took a quick peek at his nearest neighbors, confused that time had passed without his noticing. Slipping the pills into his mouth, he choked them down dry, whispering, “Thanks.” Trust Mom to know when he needed them.

  She was right. Leaving the building was much easier than arriving, the meds he normally avoided working fast to take the edge off his frayed nerves. With Mom running interference he managed to make it to the car without being stopped by curious well-wishers. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the county road that led to his grandparents’ house. Alone with Mom. The perfect opportunity to speak his mind without distractions. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mom, can we talk?”

  “Sure, baby, you know you can talk to me about anything,” she answered, just as he knew she would. “You okay?”

  She probably anticipated him opening up about the things he normally wouldn’t discuss. There would come a time when he’d have to voice them, but not now. No, in a way Iraq might be easier to talk about as so much of his tour amount to gaping holes in his memory, fragments of disjointed events like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing.

  Michael turned to gaze out the side window. Not looking at his mother made talking easier somehow. Why he felt compelled to speak up at all he didn’t know, but with the sermon and his recent acknowledgement that he was gay, he needed reassurance of her love and that she wouldn’t judge. The preacher called homosexuality a choice but Michael didn’t believe it. Why would he choose to jeopardize his relationships with his family and risk being ostracized? Who would do that? He thought back on the genuine love between his two friends in the unit. Even though they tried so hard not to let their affection show, Ryan and Jimmy were crazy about each other. How could someone pretend a thing like that? And who could fault them for taking what happiness they could in life?

  He recalled that one of his mother’s proudest moments came when he’d gotten into a fight to defend a gay classmate, even though he hardly knew the guy. It was the principle of the thing. Three big rednecks against one average-sized teenager weren’t fair odds. She’d praised Michael the whole way to the local high school for defending the weak and helpless. She’d even gotten his suspension reversed. But that was someone else’s gay kid, not her own. Then he was a hero, now the shoe definitely fit the other foot.

  Michael sighed before beginning what could very well be the end of his relationship as he knew it with his mother. He hoped not, but he wouldn’t lie to her. “Mom,” he said past the lump in his throat, “I have reason to believe that I might not be totally straight.”

  A moment’s silence, then, “How long have you felt this way?” She kept her tone neutral, giving away nothing about what she might be thinking.

  Well, he supposed it was a reasonable question, after all. “I guess I began to suspect when we lived in Biloxi.” He slammed the door on the memory of the dark-haired Cajun boy who’d lived next door and on whom Michael had had his first crush.

  “Oh, that long, huh? You were thirteen when we left Biloxi.” She grew pensive and he could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

  “I wasn’t really sure at the time and didn’t know how you’d take it. Besides,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice, “you can just imagine what Crawford would have said.” He shuddered inwardly at the memory of the bigoted asshole who’d spent way too many years in his life.

  “Now you know you could have at least talked it over with me. I could have kept it from Crawford.” Did she have to sound so hurt?

  “I just wasn’t sure, ya know? You could very easily have screamed at me that I was going to Hell for being a disgusting pervert.” Like the church folk do remained unsaid. “Believe me, this isn’t something I dreamed up, no matter what the preacher said. It’s how I feel. I didn’t just decide one day to be different.”

  “I never would have thought that.”

  “Yeah, well that seems to be the general consensus around here.” Michael picked an imaginary piece of lint from his sleeve—anything to avoid seeing disgust in his mother’s eyes.

  “Michael Aaron Ritter! Don’t you dare accuse me of being like those narrow-minded, self-righteous idiots in this little podunk town. You know me better than that.”

  “C’mon, Ma. Today’s not the first Hellfire for Gays sermon I’ve sat through.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “And all this time, I’ve dragged you to church with me, and you never said a word.”

  “I like church, Mom, getting up go to Sunday School, then going to Grandma and Grandpa’s to eat. The Christmas Plays, the baseball team, summer camp. But I’m confused of why God would make me the way I am if there’s no hope of me going to Heaven.”

  “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry. I go to church because it gives me a sense of peace, of belonging. When I was your age I sat through Hellfire for Divorcees sermons, but they never bothered me, ‘cause you know what? The God I believe in loves his children, every last one of us, no matter what other people think.”

  There she was in all her glory: the mama bear, defending her cub. How he loved this woman. Slowly the tension drained. Michael should have known she’d be there for him, just like she always had.

  “And I go to this church ‘cause I grew up going there, and my parents go there, but there’s nothing stopping us from finding another, more accepting place to worship. I’m your mother and you’re my son, nothing could make me turn my back on you, got that?”

  “I know, Mom,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. This is just hard for me. I had no idea what you might think or say, and I couldn’t bear it if you turned away from me.”

  “Son, that ain’t a-happening. Ever. I love you and I want you to be happy. This isn’t what I would have chosen for you because I know how hard it’ll be. Teddy and Nick caught hell before they finally picked up and moved to Atlanta.”

  Teddy had been a childhood friend of his mother’s and proof, in Michael’s eyes, that gay wasn’t a choice. There was no way you’d mistake Ted Funderburk for a straight man—ever. Nick, however, was a football hero and all ‘round good ol’ boy. The town gossips reached the conclusion that Teddy somehow corrupted their favorite son and infected him with the gay disease. The two men had faced a tough battle long before Michael truly understood the issue. After all these years they were still together, so that counted for something, right?

  “Well, I don’t plan on marching down Main Street in a rainbow shirt, Ma. And I could always go to college somewhere else…” He hated to bring up leaving because he’d just gotten home and didn’t want his mom to worry all over again. But he already felt like a traitor for allowing her to create a nice apartment when he had no intention of staying any longer than necessary. Still, the worn look around her eyes reminded him of her worries—worries he’d add to by leaving.

  “You do what’s right for you, son, and to hell with what people say. They’re too busy screwing up their own lives to worry about yours.” Her soft soprano filled the car then as she sang a line from a 70’s song that mirrored the sentiment, then glanced over at him and smiled. “I always loved that song. I do have one question for you, though.”

  Fear momentarily gripped his heart when his mother grinned and asked, “Who is he?”

  “What?!” Michael sputtered.

  “If you’re telling me now it must be because you’ve met someone, right?” Her heart-shaped face glowed with excitement. “Are you gonna bring home a keeper to meet your mama?”

/>   Damn, did she have to be so darned intuitive? Not quite ready to talk about prospects yet, he bluffed with, “No one in particular. But I’m hoping one day.”

  “Today just might be your lucky day.” She gave him a coy, sidelong glance.

  Before he could ask what she meant they were pulling into the driveway of his grandparents’ house. She must have been driving slowly so that they could talk longer, for an aging Buick was already parked under the shed. His grandparents had beaten them.

  As his mother turned the key and killed the ignition, Michael asked, “What do you mean?” They had just moments to conclude this conversation and he was not going into the house with unfinished business.

  “Well, it seems Dad has taken a liking to one of your sister’s roommates and invited him to Sunday dinner with us.”

  “And…” Michael prompted. He swallowed hard, already suspecting what she might say.

  “Well, he’s gay,” she blurted as if it was the greatest thing in the world. “I’ll bet he can teach you all you need to know.” She winked and added, “And he’s cute, too!”

  “Yeah, I know,” Michael replied, but only after his mother had gotten out of the car and was well out of earshot. She had to be talking about Jay. Michael groaned, forming a clear image of what he’d like Jay to teach him.

  ***

  Sunday dinner at his grandparents’ house was exactly as remembered, with plenty of good food like fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fried okra, buttermilk biscuits, and home-canned sweet corn. Pie or cake waited at the meal’s end, too. Michael didn’t comment on the small pitcher of tea placed beside his plate, knowing without asking it was decaffeinated as his doctor had recommended. Grandma had used sugar instead of a substitute, thank God. Some things he was simply unwilling to give up.

  He’d barely talked with his grandparents at church since they were in the seniors’ Sunday school class and then sat with the choir during service. Apparently, his mom had clued them in about his anxiety attacks so they let him leave church and retreat into the relative safety of the car without detaining him, even managing to divert well-wishers. Michael had been reluctant to tell them himself, knowing they’d just worry even more than they already did.

  Grandpa asked the blessing and, “Please pass the chicken,” followed “Amen”, along with “Can I get some of that okra down here,” and “Anyone want the last biscuit?” The table was so laden that passing the dishes was precarious. Finally, all plates were filled and they got down to the business of eating and socializing, the glue that held Southern families together. Only Jay remained silent, merely picking at his meal with downcast eyes.

  Michael found their close proximity distracting, his leg occasionally brushing against Jay’s, causing an instant reaction from his easily provoked body. If Jay noticed, he didn’t let it show. In fact, he was polite, soft spoken and the perfect dinner companion, if a little reserved.

  Angie abruptly spoke up. “Dern, Jay; what’s wrong with you today? You haven’t spoken two words and you’ve barely touched your chicken.”

  Grandma Ramsey leaned up from the end of the table to observe Jay’s plate. “Is something wrong with the chicken, Jay? I could fix you something else, if you’d like.”

  “No, Grandma, everything’s fine. I was just listening to everybody and got distracted.” To prove his point Jay picked up the drumstick he’d been toying with and took a bite. “Great as always, ma’am.”

  That seemed to satisfy the old woman and she relaxed back into her chair. Angie, however, scrutinized Jay, possibly waiting for another faux pas she could comment on.

  She really does treat him like she treats me .

  After dinner the ladies cleaned up while the men retired to the living room to explore that male bonding ritual of sports watching. NASCAR was on. That was one of the things Michael had dearly missed in his time away—watching the race with his grandpa.

  Since Angie’s comment about Jay’s behavior, Michael noticed the subtle difference in how he held himself and acted. His captivating smile didn’t make an appearance all afternoon. When Gramps excused himself during a commercial, Michael finally had to ask, “Jay, have I done something to offend you? I mean, you’re not acting yourself. I may not know you that well, but Angie does. And… you never called me.” He hated sounding so whiny, but once the words were out there was no taking them back.

  “What? Of course I called you! You never returned the call so I thought maybe you just didn’t want anything to do with Angie’s pet fag.” The hurt in Jay’s voice was like a slap in the face. Then the words registered.

  “You called me?”

  “Yeah, Coach Anders gave me two tickets to the Hawks game, and I thought maybe you might wanna go. But you never called me back.”

  Mouth falling open, Michael grabbed his cell phone. Sure enough, the little icon on the screen displayed a message. “Oh my God, Jay. I’m so sorry. I had other messages and thought that was it. I never even played yours!”

  The rigid set of Jay’s shoulders relaxed. “So you weren’t blowing me off?” Michael couldn’t help but notice how hopeful Jay looked. Most encouraging.

  “Are you kidding? It was a Hawks game! Do you have any idea how long it’s been…” He shut up with he realized how he sounded. “I mean, well…”

  Suddenly that smile he’d been missing made an appearance. “That’s okay,” Jay reassured him. “I know what you mean. Just a little missed communication, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Michael agreed, relieved to see the old Jay back.

  “So, we still on for pizza?”

  “Sure. But you should know that I have a hard time going out sometimes, it makes me really anxious. Does that bother you?”

  Jay leaned up from where he’d been sitting and stared Michael squarely in the eyes. “You obviously have never met my family if you think a little thing like anxiety is gonna bother me. Jeez, I think we have all the major phobias covered in my immediate family alone. And don’t even get me started on the cousins!” Jay grinned and Michael took it to mean he was joking. Of course, even if he wasn’t Jay’s family couldn’t be any worse than Michael’s own cousins.

  “Don’t worry about it, dude, I understand. Believe me, I do. I’d have taken good care of you.”

  That might be a double-entendre. In fact, Michael hoped so, but he had to take this slow. Just because things went well with coming out to his mother didn’t mean he was ready to announce his orientation to the world.

  Gramps broke the mood with his return. Jay leaned back into the loveseat as though he’d been there the whole time.

  Grandpa’s gaze darted between Jay and Michael. “Did I miss something?”

  Michael’s heart skipped a beat until realizing what his grandfather meant. Oh, yeah. He’s talking about the race.

  Chapter Six

  Tuesday night found Jay sitting in front of the television in Michael’s apartment, munching burgers and watching a reality show. As Michael didn’t watch much prime-time television, his guest’s slow Texas drawl provided a running commentary, filling him in on the details of the program that, apparently, Jay adored.

  “So, they all have to live and work on this farm when most of them have never even seen a cow before,” Jay concluded, the camera panning to show two inappropriately dressed young women attempting to clean a horse stall while wearing high heels and very tight blue jeans. Michael would have bet good money that their breasts were store bought. One kept falling off her own shoes while the other bemoaned a broken fingernail. They’d never last a minute at his grandfather’s place.

  The men on the show weren’t faring much better, and he and Jay both laughed, watching Maurice, an aspiring model, run from the barn, chased by a small pink piglet.

  Animated expressions and hand gestures accompanied Jay’s dialog, a drastic change from what Michael was used to. Even Angie seemed reserved in comparison. The enthusiasm proved contagious, and Michael soon found Jay far more interesting to watch than th
e program.

  “Oh! Look!” Jay exclaimed, pointing at the screen. “That’s Lisa, a Wall Street broker. She’s gonna win this thing, I just know it.” He cocked his head as the meticulously attired blonde scolded the two hopeless cases in the stall. Michael found himself jealous of Lisa, wishing those dark eyes looked at him with such single-minded focus.

  Occasionally a flirtatious grin would flash his way, or he’d be on the receiving end of a little light teasing, but that was just Jay, the attention wasn’t intended the way Michael wanted it to be. Several times he’d started to say something and let his interest be known, but whenever he opened his mouth he lost his nerve and the moment passed. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch sometimes, only fear of rejection kept him from acting on his impulses.

  He contented himself with what time he had, enjoying the easy friendship they were building. Besides, watching Jay watch TV was quality entertainment. At the end of the show when Jay uttered an “Awwwww” at Maurice snoozing in the hay barn, piglet cuddled in his arms, Michael wanted to do the same to Jay.

  All too soon his guest stood up, his shirt riding up his belly when he stretched. “Well, I’d best get going,” Jay said between yawns, “I’ve got a test in the morning.”

  Walking Jay through the dimly lit store to the front door, the words were poised on the tip of Michael’s tongue to ask him out the next night, but he froze, unable to get them out. In the end he said nothing.

  Jay stood at the door, waiting. After a few silent moments he said, “I had fun. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” Then he was gone.