#Rev (GearShark #2) (30 page)

“A nursing home?” I questioned.

“No, it’s different. Kind of like a big apartment complex. The residents have their own places, but they have people who work there, a full staff plus a resident doctor that helps them with day-to-day stuff. She likes it there. She has her independence but still has the help she needs.”

It made me even sadder that the one person who seemed to give Trent the love he always deserved was a woman who was somehow afflicted with a painful disease.

Life just wasn’t fair sometimes.

“So you don’t think your mom is gonna act like my parents?” I asked.

He reached for the door handle and popped open his door. “Only one way to find out.”

Trent

I called ahead to tell her I was coming. It had been a while since I’d been “home,” and I wanted to be sure she’d be here. I didn’t know her schedule or even her routine. My mom and I just weren’t that close.

She didn’t ask why I was coming or if everything was okay. She just told me she’d be there, and I said okay.

When you walked into my childhood home, there was an immediate choice to go up or down. Downstairs was the doorway that led to the garage, the laundry room, and a family room. Upstairs, which is where we headed, had three bedrooms, the kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. The living room was open to the stairs, with a traditional wooden banister separating the spaces.

“Mom?” I called out when I saw she wasn’t sitting in the living room.

“In here,” she said from the other side of the wall where the kitchen was. Drew glanced at me, and I smiled. He seemed more nervous than I did. ‘Course, he was probably afraid this would be another situation like the one we dealt with in North Carolina.

The top of the stairs looked directly into the eat-in kitchen. In front of us was a wooden dining table that seated four and a set of sliders that led out onto a small wooden deck. Off to the right was the kitchen space, with a U-shaped layout for the appliances, cabinets, and countertops.

This house hadn’t changed since I was a kid. When she had the walls repainted, it was always in the same creamy off-white color. The carpet in the house was a neutral shade of tan, and all the finishes were standard for an older mid-priced home.

“Your room down there?” Drew asked, pointing down the hallway where the bedrooms were.

“Used to be the first door on the left.”

“Used to be?” he asked.

“She made it a sewing room when I moved out.”

I knew by the look on Drew’s face this displeased him. I was going to tell him it didn’t matter because this wasn’t my home anymore, but I didn’t get the chance.

“Oh, you brought a guest,” Mom said, and we both looked up.

My mom was a short woman, probably only about five feet three. She was thin and had hazel eyes like me. Her hair was light brown with golden highlights she probably got at the salon, but I really had no clue. She never bothered much with makeup, but she really didn’t need to. She had smooth skin and was still pretty young because she had me before she even turned twenty.

“Mom, this is Drew. I’ve mentioned him before,” I said. “Drew, this is my mom, Rebecca.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Mask,” Drew said, holding out his hand.

She surrendered hers but said, “It’s actually Wallace.”

“Mask was my father’s last name,” I explained.

“Sorry about that,” Drew said.

My mom smiled politely. “You didn’t know.”

Drew gave me a look that said,
Why didn’t I know?

Because it wasn’t important. Because I thought it was odd my mother gave me the last name of a man who didn’t even want me instead of her own.

Maybe she didn’t want you, either.

Can I get you boys a drink? Iced tea?” she asked. “I was just slicing some apples for a pie I’m taking in to work tomorrow.”

“What do you do?” Drew asked.

“I work at the local credit union during the week, and then on the weekends, I work at a local bakery.”

“Ah, so that’s where Trent gets his love for finance. Must run in the family.”

It was kind of painful to watch Drew try so hard with her. It wouldn’t matter; she would be indifferent.

“Oh yes, that is your major.” She glanced at me.

I didn’t look at Drew. I couldn’t.

“So how you been, Mom?”

“Oh, you know me, always busy,” she replied, and I pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Drew followed my lead and sat beside me.

“School’s almost out for the semester, and I’ll be graduating. I’ve been thinking about what kind of job I might look for,” I said.

“I’m sure you’ll find something great. You’ve always been a hard worker and a smart boy.”

We made small talk for a few more minutes while she continued peeling and slicing apples. When the conversation started to wane, I cleared my throat.

“So I came over because I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” she asked, not looking up.

I nodded. “About a magazine that’s interviewing me.”

“Well, that’s exciting.” She looked up. “Is it for school?”

“It’s a driving magazine. Drew’s a racecar driver.”

She glanced up at that. “Really? Well, that sounds exciting.”

Drew smiled. “It has its moments.”

“Do you drive a Mustang like Trent?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s an old model.”

“Mom and Granny helped pay for my car,” I told him. “I saved my money half my life because I wanted a car when I turned sixteen.” I smiled at the memory.

“Well, we had to get you something so you could get yourself around. With my two jobs, it was hard being everywhere at once.” Mom agreed.

“Anyway,” I said as I avoided Drew’s stare. “I’m gonna be talking about some stuff with the magazine that I wanted to tell you about first. You know, in case you read the article.”

She laughed lightly. “You know I barely have time to read.”

Drew sat up; his feet hit the floor. Beneath the table, I put a hand on his leg, telling him it was okay.

“Well, you might hear people talk,” I said.

“About what?” she asked, still cutting apples.

“About the fact that Drew and I are in a relationship.”

She said nothing. Nothing at all. She just stood there and kept slicing. I knew she heard, though, because of the way she stiffened and the white-knuckled grip she had on the knife.

Finally, she turned, her gaze bouncing between Drew and me. “You and him?”

I nodded.

“You’re gay?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m gay.”

She turned her back and kept cutting. I glanced at Drew. He gave me a wary look, and I shrugged.

I really thought she’d say more than nothing.

“Mom?” I asked after a few more minutes of strained silence.

The sharp thud of the knife going into the cutting board point first was the beginning of more than nothing.

“You ungrateful child,” she intoned and gripped the edge of the counter. Tension radiated off her shoulders.

“What?” I asked.

She spun. “After all the sacrifices I’ve made for you. The years I worked day after day to make sure you had a home and clothes and food. This is how you repay me?”

“Me being gay has nothing to do with you, Mom,” I said, a little caught off guard.

“It has everything to do with me!” she shrieked and pushed off the counter. “What I don’t understand is why you would want to hurt me this way.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” I argued.

“What will people think?” she worried. “What will they say about me? They’ll think something is wrong with me because I raised my son to be gay.”

She glanced up, anger in her eyes. “You’re ungrateful and selfish.”

I reared back. I might have expected more than nothing when I told her, but I hadn’t expected this. “You think I’m being selfish,” I repeated.

I really didn’t know what to think. She was making this all about her. She never even appeared to wonder what it was like for me to come here and tell her. For me to have to come to terms with being gay.

“I know you are!” she shouted. “You’re only thinking about yourself. I raised you, even after your father left! He didn’t want you!” she cried. “Maybe this is why!”

That pierced. It pierced the most tender part of my heart.

Drew stood abruptly, the wooden chair clattering to the floor. “I suggest you think about what you say from here on out before you let it fly out of your mouth,” he said, calm, almost deadly.

“Don’t you talk to me that way in my home. This isn’t any of your business. This is a family matter.”

“He is my family,” I said, standing. “He’s been more of a family to me than you’ve ever been.”

“How dare you?” She gasped and put a hand up to her neck. “Is this why you’re trying to humiliate me? Because you think I’ve been a bad mother?”

Drew laughed bitterly. “You think you’ve been a good one?”

“You don’t know anything about our life.” She gave him a disdainful look.

“I don’t think you’re a bad mother,” I said, weary. “I’m sorry this has upset you.”

“Then stop it,” she said, disregarding Drew. “You can stop this before it’s too late.”

Stop being gay?

I wanted to laugh. She acted like it was something I worked at. Something I tried to be. I could no more stop being gay than the sun could stop rising.

I could no more stop loving Drew than the ocean could stop moving.

“I can’t. It’s who I am.”

“I’ll call Granny!” she threatened. “I’ll call and tell her what you’re doing. She’ll disown you. She’ll never speak to you again!”

“She wouldn’t,” I argued, a sick, clammy feeling coming over me. Granny wouldn’t disown me. She loved me. She’d always loved me.

Before she knew the real you.

“Don’t listen to her, T,” Drew said softly right beside my ear. He knew I was spiraling inward, he knew I was starting to cave in.

“All these years,” she said, almost like she was suddenly disillusioned and trying to work it out in her own mind. “All these years, I did what was expected of me, and for what?”

“Mom,” I said and stepped forward.

She stepped back. “Get out.”

I stopped and stared. “You want me to leave?”

She nodded. “I’ve done my job. I got you to adulthood. There’s no reason for us to have to see each other again.”

Wow.

I always knew my mom was… distant. But I never thought she was mean.

Until today.

I glanced around the house I grew up in, the house I spent so much time in alone. I looked at the mother who quite possibly never loved me, and I tucked all those feelings right beside all the others that used to hurt.

I walked to the front door and didn’t look back.

My hand was wrapped around the handle when I heard Drew’s voice carry through the house.

“I feel sorry for you,” he said. “I feel sorry that for all these years, you’ve had someone as amazing as Trent right here and you never even knew it. You were right when you said I don’t know anything about your life. I have no idea what could make you so cold and unfeeling to a child who did nothing but wish you were there more. He’s not the selfish one. You are. And what I do know is someday you’re going to regret this, but by then, it’s going to be too late.”

My eyes were misty when I heard him on the stairs and felt his hand on the small of my back. I watched through slightly blurry vision when his fingers closed over mine and turned the handle to open the door.

Out on the porch, the sound of the door closing rang with a finality I never thought I’d hear. I just needed a minute. A minute to process what just happened in there.

“Look at me.” Drew’s voice called me out of my own head.

My eyes focused on him and the blue of his irises. He grabbed my face between his palms and shook me gently. “You’re better than this place. So much better.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For what you said in there.”

Still holding my face, his lips pressed against mine. He kissed me hard and fast before pulling away completely and taking my hands.

“We’re leaving,” he announced. “I hate to tell you this, T, but your mom’s a bitch.”

I laughed. Like a real laugh that brought everything around us crashing back in color. But just because life was back in color didn’t mean it was pretty.

Even the most beautiful colors could sometimes look dirty.

“She’s probably on the phone with Granny right now.” I think out of everything my mother said, it was her threat to ruin my relationship with my grandmother that hurt the most.