Or that I was, for that matter.
I’d really gotten myself in deep.
There was even part of me that debated if coming out to my parents was necessary. The hushed whisper in the back of my head that told me Wesley would outgrow this—outgrow me—got louder every day. Why bother coming out to my parents if things with him were only temporary?
The answer was even louder than the question.
Even if things with Wesley didn’t last forever, my sexuality would.
I’d spent the past eight years hiding it from my parents because I didn’t want to be judged. I didn’t want to carry the weight of their disapproval and disappointment, but both of those reactions were theirs to manage, not mine.
I needed to tear off the Band-Aid.
Knowing it was Sunday and they’d be home from church sometime after lunch, I managed to force myself out of bed. I took a long shower, pep-talking myself while I washed and conditioned my hair. After I was dry, I picked out clothes that looked nice enough as to not give my mom something to nitpick about, then I headed down to Orange County.
The weather was nice, and the drive went quickly. Once I got off the freeway, I unrolled the window and let my arm hang out against the door. Wesley had rubbed off on me in more ways than one, I realized. With the air dancing through my fingers and up my arm, I tried to enjoy the sense of calm it brought…along with the memories of him. I wasn’t coming out to my parents for him. I was doing it for me. He would directly benefit from it, sure, but this was for me.
And it was long overdue.
When I pulled up, their car was in the driveway and my heart immediately began to race, a terrifying beat against my sternum like it wanted to break out and run back to Los Angeles. Back to Wesley.
Which…
Soon enough.
I knocked on the door and my mom was slow to answer, the look of excited surprise on her face hitting me like a knife in the side.
“Colin.” She wrapped me into a hug, and I tried to commit the feel of her embrace to memory.
Just in case.
“Hey, Mom.”
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” she asked, pulling me into the house.
I closed the door behind me. “Just wanted to come visit a bit.”
“I’m making lunch for your dad. Do you want a sandwich?” she asked.
Looking down, I realized she was still in her church clothes with an apron tied around her waist.
Proper in the weirdest ways.
“Sure.”
My dad was at the table with a fresh glass of iced tea. He was so focused on the crossword puzzle in front of him, I don’t think he even realized I was there until I sat down across from him.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted.
He looked up, startled. “Colin. What a surprise.”
“Just wanted to come visit for a bit,” I repeated and swallowed back bile. “Catch up.”
My dad’s expression softened, and he turned back to his crossword.
Anxiety wrapped around my legs like weights, holding me to the ground when all of my instincts told me to run. Thinking I was brave enough to come out to my parents had been a terrible idea, but my body refused to cooperate, refused to let me change my mind. My life, in that moment, felt like a train wreck that I was powerless to stop. After all, I was the one who’d put it on auto-pilot in the first place.
My mom brought me an iced tea, just like my dad’s, then she came back with three plates.
