The Beginning After

by Kiersten Modglin

  He was sure he hadn’t packed the wallet away, but running out of options, he opened the first box, searching through it carefully. As he opened the third box, he let out a sigh of relief, placing his hands on the familiar red wallet that lay on top. He pressed it to his lips, kissing it softly, and missing her.

  When he opened it, he stared down at her license, a picture she’d always hated. He missed her smile and the way she’d twirl a loose strand of hair around her finger. It never went away, he realized, no matter how much time had passed. She was still with him, still taking up a piece of his heart he wasn’t sure he’d ever get back.

  He moved past a few of her credit cards, ones he’d long since cancelled, and into the back zipper. He pulled out the silver key, knocking a slip of white paper to the ground. Already on his knees, he leaned over, reaching for the paper: a business card.

  He turned it over in his hands, staring at the lettering. Suddenly, his blood ran cold and his heart began to pound.

  Peighton.

  Thirty-Six

  CLAY

  Clay drove through the streets of Pawley’s Corner at lightning speed. He had to get to her. He turned his cruiser lights on, causing the cars to part and let him through. He cursed himself for not seeing it before. It was his job to protect her, for crying out loud, to protect the one he had left.

  He was driving past the neighborhood grocery store when something caught his eye. He slowed down, his brow furrowing at the sight. He pulled over to the shoulder of the road, rolling down his window.

  “Kyle?” he called to the kid.

  He looked up at him, his eyelid purpled, a trail of dried blood down the side of his face. His mouth housed a deep red cut upon a swollen lip. Instead of looking away or ignoring him like he usually did, he stood there, his face full of defeat, waiting for Clay to respond.

  “Kyle, what happened to you?” he asked, leaning out of his window further.

  “It’s nothing,” the boy said, rubbing his swollen lip with his arm.

  “Get in, son. I’ll take you home.”

  Without argument, the boy walked to the door behind Clay, attempting to open it. Clay stopped him. “You can ride up front with me, if you’d like.”

  Kyle looked as though he were thinking for a moment before he walked around to the passenger’s side and climbed in.

  Clay got a better look at his face once he was close to him. “My god. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “It looks worse than it feels,” Kyle said softly, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Yeah, well, it looks bad. Grab a napkin out of the glove box there and try to clean up a bit. Your mother is going to freak out when she sees you.”

  “You can’t tell her!” Kyle begged, fear filling his face.

  Clay half-laughed. “You don’t think she’s going to notice?” he asked. “Buckle up.”

  Kyle did as he was told, buckling his seat belt before grabbing a napkin and wiping off the blood on the side of his face.

  “Who did this to you?” Clay asked, as he pulled back out onto the road.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, as someone who came home with quite a few bloody noses in my day,” Clay said, “I can tell you that it does matter.”

  “You got in fights?”

  Clay shook his head. “I wish I could say I didn’t, you know…good role model and all, but the truth is I was a head strong teenager and I started a lot more fights than I could finish.”

  Kyle looked at him. “My dad always told me I had to turn the other cheek. He said fights weren’t worth it.”

  “He was right.”

  “I didn’t start the fight,” he said. “I’ve never started a fight.” He lowered his head as if he were ashamed.

  Clay reached over, squeezing his shoulder. “That’s a good thing. You don’t want to be the one starting fights. It never ends well for anyone.”

  “So, what should I do then? And don’t you dare say tell an adult.”

  Clay frowned. “Does this happen a lot?”

  “Once or twice. It’s never been this bad.”

  “Is it your friend? Someone you hang out with?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Just some idiot jocks.”

  As they pulled into the driveway and the car stopped, Clay turned to him. “Listen, Kyle, I know I don’t know you that well, but being completely serious…if someone is hurting you, I’ll make sure it stops.”

  “I can handle it,” he told him.

  “Are you sure?” He smiled. “That’s one of the perks of having a cop as a friend.”

  Kyle nodded, though he didn’t immediately insist they weren’t friends as Clay had expected him to. “Thanks, really. But I’m okay.”

  Clay opened the car door, climbing out. “Well, you are until your mom sees that face.”

  Kyle groaned, climbing out of his side and making his way up the walk. He stopped, turning to look at Clay. “Thanks for the ride, Clay.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned back around, walking toward the door. Clay smiled to himself, warmed by the gesture. As the front door opened, Clay was suddenly brought back to reality. He’d come there with a mission.

  Peighton and Frank were standing in the living room, the air filled with tension. When Peighton saw Kyle’s face, she gasped, rushing toward him. “Kyle?” she exclaimed, grabbing hold of his cheeks gently. “Oh my god, Kyle, what happened to you?”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” he told her. She pulled him into a hug, looking over his shoulder at Clay.

  “What happened?”

  Clay shrugged. “He’s okay. I found him walking home.”

  “Walking home? Why didn’t you call someone?” She turned to Frank. “I thought you were having him followed?”

  Frank stepped up, looking at his phone. “I thought I was too. Let me go call Paul and see what’s going on.”

  “Having me followed? Why?” Kyle demanded, his voice suddenly full of anger.

  “Kyle!” Peighton yelled back. “Why? Look at yourself! I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. First you disappear and run away to your grandparents, and then you come home looking like you’ve just left a bar brawl. What am I supposed to do?”

  “You’re supposed to trust me, Mom,” he yelled at her, turning to run toward his room.

  “Don’t you dare run away from me, Kyle. We are going to get to the bottom of this right now. I want to know what happened to you.”

  “It was just an accident. I’m fine.”

  “You aren’t fine,” Peighton spewed at him. “Your face is a mess! Let me see your hands.” She held out her hands for his. “Have you been in a fist fight?”

  He displayed his perfectly clean knuckles. “No Mom! It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then what, Kyle? What on earth happened to you?”

  “I was beat up, okay?” he yelled at her, his body rigid. “Some idiot guys beat me up. I’m fine. I just need to stay away from them.”

  “Who was it?” she demanded. “Who was it, Kyle? I want to talk to their parents.”

  “Mom!” he said, mortified. “You can’t talk to their parents. You just need to mind your own business.”

  “You are my business, son. You are it. And I’m not going to stand by and let you get hurt without doing anything about it. I’m not going to do it. Now, you tell me who they are this instant or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what, Mom? What are you going to do?”

  “Why are you being so hateful to me, Kyle? What have I done to make you hate me so much?”

  “I don’t hate you. I hate myself. I hate myself because it’s all my fault that everyone hates me,” he said, his voice breaking. He placed his face into his hands as the atmosphere in the room changed drastically. Frank walked back into the room, his phone still in hand, a confused look on his face.

  “What did you say?” Peighton asked, oblivious to Frank standing behind them.

  Kyle didn’t answer, his hands still cover
ing his face as his shoulder shook with sobs. She approached him, her hands around his back. “Kyle, sweetheart, no one hates you. No one. We love you more than anything. What would make you say something like that?”

  “Dad hated me,” he told her, sinking to the ground in all out moans.

  “Your father loved you,” Peighton stated firmly, moving to the ground with him.

  “He hated who I was.”

  Frank walked over, bending down beside Kyle, his hands near Peighton’s. Clay watched them, unsure of his place but unwilling to leave. He wasn’t leaving her alone until they’d talked, though this obviously wasn’t the time.

  “What do you mean, Kyle?” Peighton asked, her face completely dumbfounded.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters, Kyle,” Frank said finally.

  Peighton looked up at him, confusion on her face. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “Kyle,” Frank urged. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not. It’s not okay,” Kyle said through his tears, his face buried in the carpet, torso flat on the floor.

  Peighton pressed her lips to Kyle’s head, giving Frank a stern look. “Someone needs to tell me what’s going on.”

  Kyle continued to cry as the room grew quiet. Peighton’s entire body encompassed her child, covering and comforting him in the only way she seemed to know how. “Kyle.” Clay heard her whisper his name in his ear. “Kyle, sweetheart, nothing you say could make me love you any less. Please, please just tell me what’s going on.”

  After a few moments, he sat up, Peighton leaning back off of him. He looked at Frank, his eyes full of sorrow. “You know?”

  Frank nodded, nudging his head toward Peighton. “Go on.”

  Kyle looked at his mother. In that moment, he looked so small, his body as close to the ground as possible. It was a position of submission, as if he were waiting to be brutalized. He took his mother’s hands in his and Clay knew whatever was about to happen would change everything about the world they knew. All of the air in the room seemed to be sucked out as they waited for him to speak. Finally, Peighton opened her mouth, beginning to beg him to tell her what was going on. Before the first words could come out, Kyle spoke the three words Clay had not seen coming.

  “Mom, I’m gay.”

  Thirty-Seven

  PEIGHTON

  Peighton was speechless. It was as if she’d run straight into a brick wall, all of the air sucked out of her lungs in an instant. She looked into her son’s eyes, the bright blue eyes she’d looked into so many times. His face was full of pain and an expectation of more pain to come.

  She squeezed his hands, the hands that had once fit perfectly around her pointer finger but that now had outgrown her. When she still couldn’t find the words to say what she wanted to, she pulled him into a hug, surrounding him with her body wholly, and wishing she could pour the love from her heart straight into her son’s.

  He wrapped his arms around her after a moment of shock, the first real hug they’d shared in years.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally, not nearly enough.

  He pulled away, his face still afraid. “You’re sorry?”

  “Yes, Kyle, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like this had to be this big of a deal. I’m sorry that I ever let you feel like I wouldn’t love you just as much or that this would change the way I felt about you. I’m sorry, Kyle. I’ve let you down if you thought that you being gay would ever, ever, affect anything between us.” She took his face in her hands, her eyes glistening with tears. “You are my son. You’re a part of my heart, sweet boy. You’re my entire world. I love you. That is so much bigger than anything you could ever do or say or…be.” She pulled him to her, placing his head on her chest and rubbing his hair. “I love everything about you.” She laughed. “I made you. And if you’re gay, then that means I made you that way. I love you so much, Kyle. I love you more than you could ever possibly understand.” She kissed the top of his head.

  “I love you too, Mom,” he told her. His voice had lost a weight that she hadn’t noticed was there. He seemed lighter somehow, the weight of his world no longer on his shoulders.

  They hugged for a while longer before she let him go. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.

  “Why didn’t you think you could come to me? Have I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me?” she asked, the tears still falling down her cheeks.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Dad didn’t want me to tell anyone,” he said softly, his eyes low.

  “What?” she asked, touching her collar bone. “Your father knew?”

  “I came out to him last year. I was planning on telling both of you, but Dad didn’t want me to. He said I should keep it to myself.”

  “You—” She looked up to Frank, a question in her eyes.

  “Todd told me,” he confirmed. “It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

  Fury filled her, white hot rage bubbling in her belly. “Why would he tell you not to say anything?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

  “He said that small towns are tough when you’re…like me. He told me it would be easier if I just kept it to myself until I was old enough to move away.” He paused. “Or change my mind.”

  She leaned back, an evil grin filling her face. “That bastard,” she said, her vision growing blurry with anger.

  “Peighton,” Frank warned.

  “No,” Peighton said adamantly. “No. I’m done, Frank. I’m done with this. With all of it. That…that bastard. It was bad enough that he felt that way. It was bad enough that everyone else had to put their entire life on hold because he was so terrified. But no. Not my son. He asked him to keep quiet? Seriously? He knew that pain. He knew what it would do to him. He knew I would’ve never stood for it. That’s why he didn’t tell me, isn’t it?” She was rambling now, not really asking for answers from anyone in particular. “Because there’s no way I would’ve kept it a secret if he’d told me. There’s no way I would’ve asked that of Kyle. It was all about that damn campaign. Always. Always about the campaign. Never about the safety of our child. Our child who just came home with a bloody face because of him.” She stood up, pacing the floor. “That…oh!” she screamed, venting her frustration. “I can’t believe him. I cannot believe him. Oh, I could kill him. I could just—” she stopped, looking at her son’s face. His utter confusion and general fear broke her heart. She sank back to the ground. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.” She kissed his forehead. “But, Kyle, your father should have never asked you to keep any part of who you are a secret. It wasn’t fair of him.”

  “It’s okay, Mom, really,” he assured her.

  “It’s not, Kyle.” She took a deep breath, her eyes flickering to Frank for a millisecond.

  “Peighton—” he warned, but it was too late. She’d made up her mind.

  “It wasn’t okay, Kyle, for anyone to ask you to keep that piece of you a secret. But, it especially wasn’t okay for your dad. And that’s why it makes me so angry.”

  “He just wanted me to be safe, Mom. That’s what he told me.”

  “He was lying to you, Kyle. He was lying to you because he loved you, but also because he was scared. He’d been scared for much longer than you. He’d been hiding who he was too.”

  Kyle’s eyes lit up, and behind her she heard Clay inhale a sharp breath as she revealed the secret she’d sworn to take to her grave. “Your father should’ve never asked you to hide being gay because he knew firsthand how that felt, baby. Your father was just like you.”

  Thirty-Eight

  PEIGHTON

  The moment she’d said the words, it was as if the world grew three shades brighter. No longer carrying the huge weight of Todd’s secret, she couldn’t help but feel relief. Her son stared at her and she watched the entire image of his life shattering before his eyes.

  “Dad was gay?” he asked, pure shock
on his face.

  “Yes, he was.”

  “But…I don’t understand. You knew?”

  “I did,” she said.

  “Should I go?” Clay asked behind her.

  She turned, shaking her head. “No, you should stay, Clay.” She looked between the three of them, the three men in her life. “I want you all to hear this.” She stood up, helping Kyle to stand, and moved them to the couch. Clay sat down on the edge of the recliner while Frank found his way to the loveseat. She held Kyle’s hand as she spoke.

  “When your father and I got married, we were truly in love. We’d been dating for around a year and we were happy.” She smiled at Kyle, squeezing his hand. “We were really, really happy.” She paused. “You know about the miscarriages,” she looked around, “you all do. We lost three babies before we were blessed with you,” she told Kyle. “Which was very hard on both of us. It caused problems in our relationship.” She sighed. “And then your dad told me the truth. He’d been interested in men most of his life but had never felt brave enough to act on it. His family—you know we don’t spend much time with them—is very southern and very conservative. Your dad never felt like they would accept him if he told them the truth and so, he’d lived with his secret most of his life. I was the first person he’d told.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have told me?” Kyle asked.

  “Your father had gotten very good at hiding who he was. He was terrified, especially once he got into government, that coming out would ruin all that he’d worked for. I think, by the end, he’d convinced himself that he’d grown out of it or that he could forget it. That wasn’t the case, though, Kyle. And it made your father miserable trying. You were the only good thing in his life. I think he must’ve been trying to prevent you from the life he’d lived, but he did it all wrong. The only way for your life to get better was for you to do exactly what you did today. I’m so proud of you,” she told him, patting his hand.