I almost stormed out of the house at Mom’s unexpected visit. When Dad didn’t shut the door in her face and invited her to dinner, I kept my mouth shut. I stayed silent for him after he pulled me to the side and asked me to give him this one favor. I did what he wanted and pretended to be the perfect son the Faithless Bitch expected me to be. But then she started in on me going to therapy and wanting to help me “navigate the media landscape” because the press wouldn’t stop bugging me. I was a hero in the public’s eye, and I should ride that wave before it disappeared. When I asked her if I was her hero, she went silent, a first for the woman who always jabbered on. That’s when dinner ended for me, and not even Dad could convince me to stay.
I lay on one of the lounge chairs, hating the humidity in the evening air. Because the pool wouldn’t be cleaned until next week, I couldn’t even go for a swim. Not that I would with her here. So I brooded. I could always find relief in my bedroom or the basement, but I refused to be in the same house with her.
I blindly scrolled through pictures on my phone, ones I had seen countless times. I then got to the one Charlie sent me, a selfie of her at the beach with her girlfriend, Arielle. Charlie rarely posed for pictures unless Arielle convinced her to. At least Charlie looked… peaceful, which was the complete opposite of what she was like when she moved here last year. She was a victim of an unspeakable trauma, like me, although hers was more devastating. My mental and psychological damage would fade in time. Charlie’s would remain as a victim of a beating and rape. But she had Arielle to help her recover. Love had set her free.
Love was something I believed in, but it only did so much in healing all wounds. I had tried to show John love by being his friend, and even going one step more and giving him the affection he craved. But I had failed, and because of it so many died. But John was still alive and tormented like me. He had told me so. No one else. This information tore me up inside because I kept it to myself. What I knew and how I knew it might finally break me mentally, if not physically. Maybe it was John’s final step in his revenge to make me suffer alongside him.
But I’d think back to the last thing he said to me before he surrendered. Then I would stop beating myself up, and the guilt that stuck to me like the incoming summer humidity tapered off.
The stinging in my eyes wasn’t from the setting sun. I had trouble breathing, but it wasn’t from allergies. I was usually never so emotional, but lately I had bad reactions to even the smallest things. It had to be PTSD. That was the only logical conclusion I could come up with. It had to be.
Before I had another breakdown and my parents found me passed out, I called Charlie. She was one of few friends who liked to talk on the phone instead of texting. She’d help center me so I didn’t become a blubbering mess.
She picked up after the second ring. “Hi, Marshall. What’s up?”
“I’m in my backyard wishing I could go in my pool but can’t because it hasn’t been cleaned yet. I’d rather be inside my house, but she’s here.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose, hoping it would stop the tension building there.
“Your mom?” There was some shuffling or rubbing on her end and then another voice.
“You’re busy? Arielle with you?” Those two were attached at the hip, so it made sense they would be together.
“Ah… yeah. We’re in her bedroom watching a movie.”
I found myself smiling. Based on her way-too-relaxed tone, they probably did more than just watched a movie. But good for Charlie. Her issue with intimacy had come a long way. She now was comfortable with hugs, which I gave her every so often because she needed it.
“Want me to let you go so you and Arielle can finish watching the movie?”
“No, it’s over. Talk to me.”
I wanted to unload so badly, and she would have listened, but there were too many distractions right now for me to go into much detail. I called because I wanted to hear her voice. For some reason she and Theo were the main two people I could listen to without having to speak up a lot.
I caught movement inside near the sliding glass doors to the backyard. Mom watched me.
“My mother is probably going to come outside in a minute to annoy me.”
“Want me and Arielle to come over and save you? We could go out for ice cream.” She added some energy to her voice.
There were many times during our senior year of high school when I’d recommended ice cream, especially when she needed something besides Arielle to pull her out of her funk.
The sliding glass doors opened. As Mom came out, something strange happened. A large blue jay landed on top of the pool.
“I, uh, better go. She wants to talk to me.”
“If you need someone to bitch to, call me.” Charlie sounded like she meant it. I never had to second-guess her.
“Okay. Maybe I will. Bye.” I hung up and watched the blue jay float on top of the pool. It pecked at a leaf, wetting its beak.
“Did you know the blue jay symbolizes fearlessness,” Mom announced as she came to my side. She stood, waiting for me to answer.
I could have spit out some stupid fact, but I wasn’t interested in talking with her. I would have left, but it was better to stay and let her say her piece. It would make things less painful if she got her way.
I refused to acknowledge her. She then sat on the lounger next to me with her ankles crossed and her hands folded on her lap, sitting up straight and posing as if she was taking a picture or ready for some on-air analysis. She was even dressed for the part in her peach silk blouse and short black skirt ensemble.
“Why hasn’t your dad scheduled to have the pool cleaned? He usually does by now,” she said matter-of-factly instead of with the disappointment that always appeared in her voice whenever she mentioned him.
“Someone is coming this week.”
“My brownstone complex just built a new Olympic-sized pool with a hot tub. You’re more than welcome to come by and swim.” She shifted more toward me. “Duke would love to see you.”
I turned to her and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Like your boy toy wants to see me.” I snapped my fingers dramatically as if a sudden idea popped in my head. “Since he’s closer to my age, I guess it makes sense he wants to hang with me because he must get bored staying with a middle-aged woman who probably criticizes him all day long.”
“I don’t crit—”
I held up my hand. “You just criticize Dad and me, then. Gotcha, Faith.”
She tapped one thumb on the other and tilted her back slightly to show she wasn’t happy. She always took her time responding, especially in anger. That was an emotion she bottled up inside her, and when she let it out, it was more of a slow burn because it allowed her to find the perfect words to cut down a person.
“I’m still your mother. Nothing will change that. I deserve respect.”
Her voice wobbled a bit, making me want to pump my fist in the air in victory, but something in my chest tightened. I was conflicted when it came to this woman. I wanted to hurt her, but I wasn’t a total jerk, so I would relent before it went too far.
The curtain behind the glass doors moved, and Dad appeared. He didn’t join us but just watched. He always put some distance between me and Mom whenever we had to associate with each other.
“What do you want from me? I really don’t want to chitchat with you.” I lay farther back in my chair, more than ready to lie down and shut my eyes.
“Chitchat? Sometimes I wonder if you were born older,” she said in a slightly teasing tone.
“Not born older.” I shot her an annoyed glare. “Just born gay. And proud of it too.”
I waited for her attack, which she always did whenever I brought up my sexuality. It was a perfect dig because it usually ended any talking between us. I then wouldn’t see her or hear from her for days, sometimes weeks.
But what once was normal, now was far from it. She didn’t drop a verbal bomb on me and then storm away. She continued sitting there, looking as cal
m as ever and not uncomfortable in the heat and humidity. Her face even seemed to glow. Mine felt oily and parts of my body felt crusty because I refused to wear more accommodating clothes for the weather. My oxford shirt and ironed slacks were my suit of armor, something tangible and real. An example of my former self I was trying so hard to still be.
“I don’t want to fight with you. The reason I stopped by unannounced is because you won’t return my calls or see me.”
“I’m surprised Dad let you stay for dinner.” I missed eating with just Dad and then watching something mind-numbing like baseball.
“You may not realize it, but he’s forgiven me.” She moved forward again, her knees almost touching the side of my leg. “It’s been almost seven years. It’s enough time to—”
“Enough time for what? Forgive you for ruining your marriage and family?” I gripped my cell hard, wishing I was an asshole for once who would curse her or hit her with my phone. “Or do you mean it’s enough time for you to accept me as I am? Unfortunately I’m more fucked-up than ever, so this fake mother and son heart-to-heart you’re trying for is not working.”
It had been a while since I’d lashed out at her. It was better for me to keep my thoughts to myself because we always ended up having a nasty fight. The next time we saw each other, she would act as if everything was fine between us. Then the cycle would start all over again.
She did her typical widening of the eyes and then lowering her head, as if she hid some type of emotion. Her theatrics no longer affected me, and I wiggled my leg to show I was impatient. I would have left then, but Dad opened the sliding glass doors.
“Everything fine out here?” he asked.
She lifted her head and smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Marshall and I are fine. Why don’t you put on some more coffee? It will go well with the banana cake I brought.”
Banana cake was her favorite dessert. Mine too. She always got one from her favorite diner in town. The last time we went there together was a week before she and Dad signed the divorce papers. I always felt what had been a special day with her was her goodbye, as if she knew our relationship would be ruined forever.
He went back inside, and when he shut the door, the blue jay launched into the air with its wings flapping. Maybe it got fed up with then tension between Mom and me.
“Why did you bring the cake? I guess it’s for my birthday because you won’t be around on Monday.” I kept wiggling my leg because I knew it would annoy her. “You’ll be at your boy toy’s lake house like every Memorial Day.”
“Why can’t you ever say Duke’s name?” She leaned forward and dropped her hand on my knee. “And stop shaking your leg. You’re acting like—”
I knocked her aside and jumped out of the chair. “Don’t touch me. You don’t have the right to.”
She stood now, frowning deep enough to make lines around her mouth to form. “As your mother—”
“You stopped having that right as my mother when you told me what you thought of me when I came out at ten. The reason I never mention your lover’s name is because that’s John’s middle name, the shooter who, even though he’s fucked in the head, has a better mother than I do. The woman is dying of cancer and still loves her killer son.”
“Marshall!” Dad was suddenly a few feet away.
I wasn’t a yeller. But I ended up doing it. I also hated when Dad did the same with my name like now.
Mom placed her palm on the middle of her chest, and her face had more color than before, but she didn’t look upset.
It felt like buckets of sweat poured down my back. Sweat stained the side of my shirt, and my pants stuck to the backs of my legs.
“I think it’s best if we remain calm and go inside the house where it’s cool.” Dad reached for me.
I pushed him away, unwilling to play nice. He knew by now how badly I reacted to Mom. Just seeing her made me act like a jerk.
“I need to leave before I say something else I shouldn’t.” I backed away, keeping my parents in sight. Mom remained silent while Dad thrust his fingers through his hair.
I ran to the front before I was caught. I grabbed the bike I’d left on the side of the house yesterday and, after locking my helmet in place, I pedaled out on the street, not caring where I went.
By the time I returned home, it was late into the evening. I couldn’t say how many miles I had gone. My legs were like rubber, and I would have trouble walking tomorrow. When I reached my house, the front light was on, and Dad sat on the front steps.
“If you weren’t home in an hour, I was going to call the police.” He shifted to the right either to let me enter the house or sit next to him.
I sat next to him, our shoulders almost touching. His hands hung between his legs. I did the same.
We sat there together, not exchanging any words until I rested the side of my head on his arm. “Dad.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow about you and your mother. For now, let’s just sit here together. Can you give me that?” He patted my knee.
I nodded and closed my eyes, leaning into my father when all I wanted to do was ask him to hold me so I could cry in his arms.
Chapter Four
I WANTED to sleep away my birthday, but the outside world didn’t want me to. The outside world meant my friends, and one in particular. Instead of sleeping in late, I was showered, dressed, and out of my house by ten to visit Charlie at her aunt and uncle’s house. She was staying there for the summer until her sophomore year of college started. Since her father lived in Canada, and she now had roots here in Albee because of Arielle and a job she liked, it made sense she would stay put.
She was an early riser, unlike her cousin Jo, who I had been friends with since middle school. She loved sleep. Charlie not so much. I could always count on her to come to one of my early morning swim meets or help volunteer with the local LGBTQ group during our senior year when there were morning get-togethers or weekend events.
I came bearing gifts—bagels with butter and cream cheese, enough for her family. If I had to start my birthday, I was glad it was with the Drydens. Charlie’s extended family was big with helping the community. They were also very accepting and welcoming, especially when you were a guest in their house.
The Dryden residence was close to my house, so I didn’t mind the walk. It did take me a little longer because of my “burn off my rage” bike ride last night. But it was short enough that the bagels I bought at the bakery down the street from me were still warm. What I didn’t expect to see was Charlie sitting crossed-legged on the front lawn. Her eyes were closed and her hands rested on her knees, palms facing the sky.
I didn’t want to intrude, but I wanted to sit down because my inner thighs and calf muscles were twitching. Joining her on the grass wouldn’t work for me because I didn’t want my khakis to get stained.
She then opened her eyes and flexed her fingers. “Dude, it’s going to be near ninety today. Why are you dressed like you’re going to church? I know you own a T-shirt and shorts because I’ve seen you wear them.”
“Babe, why don’t you ever wear a dress? It’s always boring T-shirts and jeans or capris.” I tilted down my sunglasses and gave her a good scan while she spread open her legs and stretched.
“Babe? Is that what your type of people call each other in DC?” She held up her hand for me to take.
“My type of people?” I helped her stand.
“The conservative buttoned-up type.” She wiped away any stray grass on her butt and legs. “You expected me to say something about being gay?”
“I didn’t know what to think. I was still trying to figure out why you’re meditating on your front lawn.”
“Force of habit. I used to sit in my backyard at home, but when I got here I did it in the front yard.” She shrugged. “It’s peaceful and gives me a sense of balance. You should try it with me sometime.”
“Meditate all your worries away?” I wasn’t a believer in all that juju. I preferred other out
lets to help me find my “balance.” Swimming and biking were my go-tos for that.
“Losing oneself in their selves is great medicine.” She placed her folded hands in front of her chest and bowed. “Namaste.”
“Arielle has rubbed off on you big-time. She didn’t want to”—I did air quotes—“meditate with you this morning?”
“She’s helping set up the Maison’s volunteer opportunity booth in the park today. I’m planning on stopping by once Jo rolls out of bed,” she said. “Aunt Eloisa and Tris are also setting up a booth for the local YMCA, and Uncle Abe, Paul, and Beau are away in the Poconos on a camping trip with a bunch of their cousins and uncles. Some yearly male-bonding thing they do.”
“Camping is not my thing.” I wasn’t a fan of roughing it. Neither was Dad, which was a blessing for me. He never pushed me to be in the Boy Scouts or some nature group when I was younger. I preferred more sophisticated fun, which I guess made me a snob, not that I acted like one. Or I didn’t think I was one.
“You’re stopping by the fair later? I’ll tag along since my dad is going to be there in the afternoon doing his mayor thing.”
“Sure thing. But first things first.” She gave me an all-too-soft kiss on my cheek. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” I would have hugged her, but she still had boundaries. She wasn’t big on PDAs, unless they were from Arielle, and even then, it was more along the lines of holding hands.
“What’s in the bag?” Unlike most girls I knew, she didn’t take the bag or look inside.
“Bagels. I have butter, cream cheese, and jelly.” I held up the bag, ready to chill with my friend.
Her eyes brightened, and she motioned for me to follow her. “Are you okay sitting on the deck? It’s still cool enough to enjoy breakfast outside.” She peered over her shoulder at me, an impish grin in place. “I’ll make us some herbal tea I bought at the new tea shop that just opened next to the yoga studio Arielle and I go to on Main Street.”
Let Me Live Page 4
