Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I stumbled back at her accusation, like her words were fists against my chest, raining down on me and echoing through my body.
In a lot of ways, Leslie was right. I’d never let myself see it before. I became so obsessed with music, I thought it could save us. I thought it could save me. I was so intent on keeping my secret, so scared that outing myself would make me lose my music or my family, that I pushed them away. I cut them off. I told myself I was taking care of them, but I wasn’t. Not really. I was protecting myself.
“I…” whispered past my lips. All these years, all this time wasted, and for what? “You’re right.” In my need to succeed, to take care of them and to hide who I was, I separated myself from them. “And I can’t do that anymore. I can’t hide. I can’t keep carrying all this inside me.” And only giving it to Law. When we were together, Law had to carry too much of my baggage, because he was all I’d ever allowed myself to have.
Turning, I looked at Mom, who watched me with wide, glassy eyes. “I, um…I’m gay. I’ve always been gay. I held it in because I didn’t know how you would all react and because of my music. I was afraid of losing my career.” Maybe those were true, or maybe they were excuses. Maybe I held it in because of me. Whatever the reason, I refused to do it any longer.
Mom opened her mouth, but I held up my hand, stopping her. Now that I started, I had to get this out.
“I have anxiety. Pretty brutal anxiety. It plagues me all the time, and I don’t deal with it. I’ve never dealt with it. If I’m being honest, I’m likely depressed too, though I never got diagnosed.” I tugged at my hair, dropped my head back, and breathed. “I’m scared of letting you guys down, of letting everyone down, of failing. Of not knowing who I am. Of not being worthy of the love of other people and being a disappointment, and I’m so fucking in love with someone that my brain sometimes tells me I don’t deserve. But being with him…sometimes he quiets that voice, and he makes me forget all the other shit, but then I don’t let myself have him, not really, and again, that’s probably because there will always be that part of me that feels like I don’t deserve him, or my career, or even all of you. And I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired of living this way. I don’t think I can do it anymore. I…”
And then Leslie was there. Her arms wrapped around me. Holding me. Shushing me. Loving me. “It’s okay…I love you. We love you.”
Martin was there next. His arms, his words. His love.
Then Mom…her grip trembling.
We stood there for a long time, just holding each other, and I realized we hadn’t felt like a family in a long time, maybe ever, really. We’d been fractured, separate, and we kept secrets, so many damn secrets from each other.
When we pulled apart, I held on to Mom’s arm and led her over to the couch. I’d put it all out there, but there was still a long way to go.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Mom’s measured words came out first. “You thought you couldn’t tell me?”
I glanced down, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath before looking at her. “I was scared to. I think…I think you had to have known…or at least wondered. There were rumors over the years, and you didn’t always take it the best.”
Her hand trembled as she raised it to her face and wiped away the tears there. “No…I suppose I didn’t. I’ve had my beliefs, the way I was raised and I let that cloud my judgement. I let that lead me instead of thinking about you. I’m sorry. I had ideas about what your life would be, and I… Being gay’s not what I saw. And that’s not fair to you. My beliefs played a part in that as well, but the fact of the matter is, I love you. I want you to be happy, and that will always be more important to me than anything else. I should have made sure to tell you that over the years, that your happiness was the most important thing. Everything else, we can work through. I can work through it. I might not be perfect, but I can promise I want you happy. Are you happy?”
The tension I hadn’t realized I still held inside me just…released. Like she said, it wasn’t perfect, but life rarely was. We liked to think of things in terms of black and white, but again, life was never that. It was always more shades of gray. What mattered was sticking by those you loved, supporting them, fighting for them, loving them even if they aren’t exactly who you thought they would be. “I’m trying to be happy. I’m on the road to being that way for the first time, and this helps.”