It was like Hudson all over again. But this time the hate spewed from the woman who’d raised me to believe it was my life goal to be Christ-like. She wasn’t being very Christian right now.
“Please tell me you’re not that ignorant, Momma? What about all that shit you preach about God loving us as we are, as he made us?”
“Jaxon Stettler, do not swear in this house.”
“But it’s okay for you to hate? God made Ethan that way.”
“It’s a choice, Jaxon… He chooses to live in sin.”
“It’s not a choice,” I shouted, and she stepped back toward the sink and away from me.
“What would you know about it?” she whispered, her hands trembling.
My tongue was fat in my mouth, the words pushing at my lips. The past few weeks with Wild, every smile, every touch, the happiness he’d given me, I was stronger for it. I was tired of lying. I didn’t need time. I needed to tell my truths. My heart was spinning inside my chest, but I held onto the confidence I’d gained and said what I should’ve said years ago.
“The night Dad died… we prayed, remember?”
“I do.” Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at me.
“I wanted to swap places with Dad, with Jason. I would have too… There were so many times, after that night, that I wished I was dead. Wished that I was anybody else but me.” She used the towel she had clutched in her hands to wipe at her eyes, her tears falling fast and furious as I spoke. “I promised God that night, if he let Jason live, I’d change. I’d be the good son you needed me to be. But the thing is, Mom… I can’t change. I’m gay. I didn’t choose this, this is who I am. This is how He made me.”
“It’s a sin, Jax.” She shook her head, the disappointment on her face cut me open.
“Love is not a sin.”
She didn’t reach out to me or hug me like I’d hoped. She just stood there, silent, as I let myself cry.
“You’re in love with Ethan?” she asked.
“No.”
“Oh…” she said, relieved.
“I have a boyfriend.”
Mom lifted her hand to her chest and rubbed her knuckles into the bone.
“Here…in Bell River?”
“He lives in Atlanta. We used to go to school together back at Eastchester.” She wrung the towel in her hands, her eyes anywhere but on her son. “I love him, Momma.”
“Jaxon, I… I don’t know what to say. I raised you one way, and now…”
“I’m not any different than I was yesterday. And neither is Ethan,” I said. “Deep down you know that. And you know that God would want you to accept us as we are. What are you gonna do? Throw me out? Keep me from seeing Jason?”
“Jaxon,” she gasped. “I’d never do such a thing. You’re my blood.”
“And what? Ethan is trash?” I asked.
I was relieved, knowing I wouldn’t lose Jason, and it made it easier for me to call her on her bullshit.
She tried to walk past me, but I blocked her. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. I’m tired.”
“Look at me…” The stern lines in her face relaxed as she met my eyes. “I’m still me. I’m still your son.”
“I know that,” she said, another round of tears falling. “I love you… no matter what. But I don’t know what to think about… any of it.”
“Love the sinner, hate the sin?”
“I have no hate in my heart for you,” she said, and I pulled her into a hug.
Mom kept her hands by her side at first, exhaling into my chest, she wrapped them around me.
“Why’s everyone crying?” Jason asked as he walked into the kitchen with Rosie at his side. “Is it because of Ethan? Can he still be my friend?”
“It’s late, Jay,” Mom said, pulling back from my embrace. “We can talk about it in the morning.”
“I don’t care if he likes to kiss boys, he’s good at fishing and can start a fire in less than twenty seconds.”
Despite the heavy mood, my mom smiled as I laughed.
“Come on, Jay… let’s get ready for bed,” I said. “You can tell me about camping.”
“I think Rosie has to pee.” Jason opened the back door and Rosie ran outside.
“Head on into your room.” I rumpled his hair with my hand, and he cringed. “I’ll let her in when she’s finished.”
Pouting like no one else could, Jason kissed Mom on the cheek and went to his room. I expected my mom to follow behind him, but she lingered in the kitchen. Exhausted, I didn’t know what else to say, and when Rosie scratched on the back door, I let her in.
“I’m gonna get ready for bed.” I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet to fill with water for the dog. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“What’s his name?” she asked. “Your… boyfriend.”
The lump in my throat swelled. “Wilder.”
She nodded her head, chewing at the corner of her lip.
“And he’s good to you?”
“He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She squeezed my arm. “Good night, son.”
“’Night, Momma,” I said, holding on to hope.
WILDER
Thunder clapped outside the sliding glass door at the same time a bright burst of lightning lit up the sky. Gandalf jumped and skittered across my bedroom, diving under the bed like he was down to the last of his nine lives. Of course, the minute I decided to leave early, adding Ft. Lauderdale to my tour, a hurricane would show up. It was off the coast but had spawned some of the worst weather I’d seen all year. I didn’t mind flying. But flying during a monsoon on steroids was not something my depressed ass wanted to deal with. I wanted to get on the plane tomorrow, drink myself sick with cheap wine, and fall into my hotel room. Pass out until I forgot how much I missed Jaxon. As if he could sense I’d been thinking about him, my phone chirped on the nightstand. I’d given him his own notification sound. I didn’t want to take a chance and accidentally open one of his texts and start the entire grieving process all over again. He hadn’t sent any emails yet, which I was grateful for. It wasn’t like I could ignore my business messages because I broke up with my boyfriend.
I shut my suitcase and stared at the bed. The silence too heavy, his presence here had started to haunt me. I could see his head on my pillow, his smile in the morning. Hear his voice laughing at something I’d said. My entire house reminded me of him. I’d washed my sheets, scrubbed my shower, vacuumed the couches, and opened the widows in my office every day, but I couldn’t get rid of his scent. It was in my head, suffocating me. This wasn’t a break-up. It was worse. Because even though I didn’t believe a word Jax had said, I’d somehow allowed myself to hope. It was precisely this reason why I didn’t read his text messages or answer his calls. I didn’t want to hear any more of his lip service or his bullshit promises. It’d been five days since he’d left, and if he really meant what he’d said, wouldn’t he have come back by now? Those messages were nothing more than his way of stringing me along, and just like nine years ago, I’d be discarded while he lived his great and terrible straight life. Jax had used me again. He used me to play out a fantasy of a life he’d never intended to live.