I pace a couple of times along the foyer before I stop in front of her and say, “Well, the last time we had this conversation, you tried to shoot me. I want to make sure we don’t get into a heated argument.”
She clutches the turquoise pendant she wears and gasps. “I’d never do something like that to my son. You have to believe me. He always had a wild imagination. He’s lying.”
“Mother, there’s a document in court where it states that you were emotionally abusive. There are pictures of the bullet holes.” My voice carries a force that grabs her attention. Her face is pale. “I’m not here to discuss that. I want us to talk about our mother and son relationship. You’re my only family, and I’d love to have a real relationship with you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, flustered. “Why are you discussing our business in front of these strangers. Our problems are ours. Not that we have any.” The angelic smile she flashes at Fitz is almost convincing.
“Mom, for once in your lifetime, stop deflecting and lying. This is important to me. I want to have a relationship with you. When Grandmother got hurt, you said you wanted to meet your grandchildren and for her to meet her great-grandchildren. I’m here because I want that too. Maybe the next generation of Killions can have a better family dynamic than the one we had. I want to introduce you to my partner, to bring my children to visit you.”
“Are you with someone?
“Yes.”
Her face illuminates. I’m not sure if there’s hope or she’s about to say something that’ll set me on fire and will make me want to leave her house and forget about her. I give her the benefit of the doubt.
“I haven’t seen your picture with her in the news. Is she as beautiful as Lori?”
I shake my head. “Zeke is a man. You’ve seen pictures of us since we started Sinners of Seattle.”
The way her face morphs from happiness to anger sends a wave of fear. I have to stop and remind myself that I am not a teenager.
“A man?” Her voice is a squeal, the sound of a wounded animal—the growl of a bear that lost her cub. “I thought you had changed. That was a delusional phase of your childhood.”
“I. Am. Bisexual,” I say, clearly.
“You’re lying,” she says, desperate.
“It’s who I am. The person I denied to make you happy. I hid, terrified that anyone would try to hurt me the way you did—and worse, it broke him. I’m here because I’m done living in pieces. I’m finally finding who I am and am happy about my life.”
I run a trembling hand through my hair and say, “But I want you to be an active part of my life. Not an afterthought or the man who pays for your lifestyle.”
“You’re not my son.” Those four words hit me right in the chest. The blow was expected, and the words are as harrowing as they were so many years ago.
It doesn’t take me long to pull myself together.
“I am your son,” I state with a commanding voice. “But you don’t deserve me. You never gave me the love I needed. You never showed me that you cared for me, not even when I was little. Since I became famous, all you see in me is financial security.”
She looks at her hands. I can see and feel that I lost her attention. She’s not interested in this conversation or me. I’m no longer a person.
I wish I could tell her that I need a mother. I need a family. I need love.
But this woman, this person…I don’t need her.
“If you can’t accept me for who I am, I’m done with you.”
Her eyes fill with tears. It feels like a breakthrough, through her hard shell. She understands that she’s about to lose me. She shakes her head, crying. I want to reach out to her and console her, but she takes a step back when I approach her.
“Why do you have to be like this? Why couldn’t I have a good, normal son?”
Rage clogs my throat. I hurt for the kid I once was. This visit wasn’t in vain. At least I know that I tried my best.
“Ever since I was a small child, I tried to be the smartest, the fastest, the best at everything,” I pause, giving her a side glance, watching those angry tears roll down her cheeks. She’s devastated for all the wrong reasons. “I am the best at what I do. I built an empire. I was part of one of the most successful bands in the world. I am a good person, and even if you never recognize it, I’m a good son.
“This was my last attempt to forge a relationship with you. I’m done trying to be the dutiful son that Isabel Killion deserves. You don’t deserve me. Fitz is going to give you the deed to the house. I’m washing my hands of you. I request that you don’t try to reach out to me. My people won’t accept any calls from you.”
“You can’t just leave me like that. How am I supposed to live?”
“You have the trust fund,” I answer.
“That’s not enough. You owe me,” she demands.
“Get a job,” I retort.
“I’m sixty-seven years old. You can’t possibly think that I can get a job. This is another phase. Just because all those actors are saying that they are gay, it doesn’t mean that you can be too.”
“I am bisexual,” I repeat. “I love a man who got hurt because I learned to deny that part of myself. I hated myself because of you. If you can’t accept that, we’re over. The amount you’re receiving monthly is plenty to live on. The house is paid for, and there’s a small escrow set up to pay for the taxes and hazard insurance.”
“I should’ve aborted you, you disgraceful piece of shit.”
Clint steps in front of us. “Let’s go,” he orders.
“Ma’am, I think it’s time we talk about your house. Eth, leave,” Fitz says.
“Stay to make sure she doesn’t do anything to him,” I order Clint.
I pull out my phone and text Zeke.
Ethan: I did it.
Zeke calls me right away.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Are you okay, babe?”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and nod. “Yes. She was spiteful. Why did I think she’d change?”
“Because you love her. Because she’s your mother. Because we all need love, and you know what, you have a big family that adores you.” He pauses. “You have me, and I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. It’s us against the world.”
“You’re right. I just wanted her to be a part of our family.”
“Well, she’s missing the best of us. We’re going to create a new family—our family.”
“Thank you for being mine.”
“All yours,” he mumbles. “And to show you that you own me, I might let you take me tonight.”
I chuckle.
“I knew that would get you to smile. Hurry. Come home soon, okay.”
It’s two o’clock when the pilot announces that we’re about to land in Seattle. I finally end my conversation with Dante and head to the main cabin to take a seat.
“Are you okay, man?” Clint asks.
I nod. “It was hard but necessary.”
“I used to tell my wife that if I had known you when you were younger, I would’ve adopted you,” he says.