I hadn’t lied. I was grateful for my parents, and I knew they loved me, in their own way. I couldn’t quite pinpoint why I was crying, but I only cried harder when I thought about who I’d be if I’d always known that it was okay to love a man.
Worse, I could so easily imagine what my life would be like had I never met Mr. Paige or the Lost Boys. I’d be managing one of the tire shops for sure, and I probably would have found a girl my parents liked and married her, never once exploring beyond that limited scope.
None of that was wrong, necessarily. Just incomplete.
Even though I’d just now opened myself up to the possibility that I might not be straight, it already seemed to be encoded in my DNA. Like a new friend who felt like someone I’d known my whole life.
I was reminded again of the life-changing conversation I’d had with Mr. Paige years ago. He’d come by the shop, supposedly to get his tires examined, but I think he was checking on me. When he’d started asking about how I was doing, I’d told him everything. How much I missed my sister, how I’d mostly been excited for my baseball scholarship because it meant I could become a geometry teacher.
How stupid my family had made me feel when I’d brought up the topic of going to school once I’d recovered from the accident.
“Walker, though I abhor the subject myself, there is nothing wrong with wanting to teach geometry. If that’s your dream, you should go for it.”
“Well, thanks, Mr. Paige. But I’m almost twenty-three now. Most folks have already finished college by this time.”
“Sure, a lot of them have. But there are also tons of people who begin college later in life. And, I gotta say—in the big picture, twenty-three is practically fetal. You still have your whole life ahead of you.”
Until you don’t, I thought, missing my sister even more than I usually did.
“With my work schedule, I’d be at least twenty-eight before I even graduated.”
“Son, you’ll be twenty-eight either way. Might as well be twenty-eight with a degree and the career you want.”
“I dunno. Maybe I don’t?—”
“Don’t what?”
I avoided his eyes. “Deserve it? You know, with everything. The accident.”
“Even if the accident had been your fault—which it wasn’t—you would still deserve the chance to have the life you want.”
“You think so?”
“I know it, son. I also know Annalee would want you to follow your dreams. She’d be so proud of you.”
Mr. Paige might’ve been the first person who said the accident that took Annalee wasn’t my fault.
God, who would I be now if my sister were still alive? I’d been so distraught over losing her I’d never even thought to mourn baseball. It had never truly been my dream anyway. Sure, I enjoyed the game, but I’d wanted to be a teacher ever since I met my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Williams. She had long red hair down to her waist, and she was so sweet and patient. I could tell she loved us.
But my dad had wanted me to be a baseball player, so that’s what I was going to be. It had taken years for me to realize that losing baseball meant I’d lost my dad. As for my mother, I don’t think she ever forgave me for living. In a way, the accident took my entire family from me, including—especially—the one person who would’ve loved me regardless.
Despite all the tears, I got home safely. I let myself into my apartment, went to my bedroom, and flopped onto the bed. Holding my pillow, I wept like a baby, crying until I fell asleep.
It was dark by the time I woke. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to go to San Antonio and try to find out… whatever else I was.
When I sat up, though, I felt clear. Clear as if I were standing on that mountaintop in Hen’s picture, inhaling the alpine air. I’d been expecting the same dizzying uncertainty I’d experienced over these last several days, but all I felt was certain.
I loved my family, and my sister’s absence was a permanent ache. But this was my goddamned life. It wasn’t wrong to figure out who I was deep inside—and it was okay if that person was different from who my parents thought I should be.
Maybe that had always been obvious to a whole bunch of other people, but not to this country boy.
Standing, I walked to my closet and found an outfit I knew Ozzie would be proud of.
Tonight was about me.
CHAPTER12
ozzie
