Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I cursed, dropping my head against the seat. I just wanted… I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be myself. I wanted Dane, but I wanted my parents to be okay too, and I wanted to be a good son to them, and those things all felt impossible to have all together.
My head was pounding and had been for, hell, I didn’t even know how long. It was just one more thing on my already full plate.
But sitting there stressing about it wouldn’t make a difference, so I picked up my phone again and replied, Merry Christmas, Dane, then shut down my phone.
I used the phone on the wall, which called the nurses’ station, to get the door opened for the ICU, and made my way to Dad’s room. They said he would likely be transferred to a regular room the next morning, and home a day or two after that. He could have left the ICU today, but with the holiday, things were backed up. He was sleeping, a slight snore in the air, and that made me smile. “He’s always slept so soundly,” I said, and that made Mom smile too.
“He has. Try as I might to wake him up, he doesn’t stir, but the second it’s time to take care of the animals, he’s out of bed in a flash, doesn’t even need an alarm clock.” She chuckled sadly. “God, he loves it. That place has always been his dream.”
The sadness clung to me heavier, suffocating me. “Yeah, I know.” I sat next to her on the couch-bed thing they had put in the room for her, since she refused to leave.
We were both quiet for a few moments, sitting there listening to my father snore and the beep of machines. It was my mom who spoke first. “Dad told me, you know? About your young man.”
My heart thudded painfully against my chest, my pulse throbbing in my ears. For a second I couldn’t form words, couldn’t focus on what I wanted to say.
I’m sorry.
I’ll come home.
I shouldn’t have told him while he was working.
I love Dane and wish you could love him too.
“I don’t… I’m not…” And then my eyes were a little blurry, followed by a lot blurry, and I felt Mom’s hand on my cheek.
“Hey, what’s this about? Why are you crying?”
It was stupid. Even as I felt the words, I knew it, and even as I said the words, I knew it, but damn, my heart was overtaking my brain and I couldn’t stop it. “It’s my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”
“This. Dad. I just wasn’t thinking. I was impatient and wanted to prove something to myself, I think, so I blurted it out to him. And it was cold, and I noticed he looked a little pale beforehand, noticed how he was working slower than he used to, but I didn’t consider what it meant, and I just…”
“Jesse, it’s not your fault your father had a heart attack. He didn’t have it because…because of your young man. He had it because his heart finally gave out on him. He’s been having trouble with it for a while, seeing a cardiologist and has been on medication and everything, but you know how he is, so damn proud, and he didn’t want me to tell you or anyone else. Stubborn old mule, refused to slow down, and it caught up with him. This has nothing to do with your…”
Her words trailed off, and even though I felt guilty about the timing, it hurt. “Boyfriend, Ma. He’s my boyfriend.”
Her eyes darted down, and she looked a little sad for a moment, but then she held my gaze and said, “Your boyfriend. Have you been driving yourself crazy thinking this is your fault?”
Wiping my eyes, I nodded.
“Oh, Jesse. You didn’t cause your father’s heart attack. And he loves you. I love you. We really are trying. It’s so engrained in us, our beliefs, and it’s confusing when they war with our love for you, with us wanting you to be happy. Whether you know it or not, we do.”
“I know.” I nodded.
“I’ve been reading some stuff. We ordered a few books, and your daddy’s been looking stuff up on the Internet. I can’t believe how many pages there are about everything!”
“You and Dad on the Internet?” They had it, of course, and they tried to use it, but more often than not, they got overwhelmed by it all.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said with a smile. “But we’re understanding, and we’re making peace with our beliefs, because you’re…you’re the most important thing.”
Ugh. I was crying again. I wasn’t typically a crier, but I’d been doing it a lot more lately. “Really?”
“Yes. You’re our son, and I guess…I guess it’s time we put that above everything else. You’re a good boy, Jesse. You always have been. You’re funny and confident. That scared us sometimes, your confidence, and we didn’t always understand it or you, but it’s just…you. Our bighearted son…who likes to wear makeup and likes other boys. We’re learning that’s not such a big deal.”