“You left us with Dad,” Beau whispers hoarsely. “A man who was fresh out of jail and a complete and utter train wreck. How was that better than sticking around?”
“I didn’t know what would happen,” Mum replies. “I didn’t have a crystal ball. He promised he’d get a job. He said he’d take care of you. I didn’t know how things would turn out. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Beau shakes his head.
“I wasn’t in any fit state to take care of you when he went back to jail and you got taken into care. What was I supposed to do?”
“Write,” Beau says flatly.
“I did write!”
“How many times?”
She dips her chin. “Once.”
“To make amends,” I say softly. “Step nine.”
“When you didn’t reply, I thought it meant you didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I didn’t blame you.”
“So that was it?” Beau demands. “One letter that we never even got, and you were ready to turn your back on us forever? You could have called us. You could have sent cards at Christmas or on our birthdays. You could have sent messages via Aunt Gill. You could have done something, anything, to let us know you were out there. That you cared. That one day, when you were better, you’d come home.” He clenches his teeth and glares at her for a few long seconds. Finally, he lets out a slow breath. “I can sympathise with your reasons for leaving. I even agree with them. But I can’t forgive you for ignoring us for sixteen years. You had to get better, but that didn’t have to mean abandoning us completely. That was something you chose to do, and you can never take that decision back.” He looks at me. “We’ve got our answers. Let’s go.”
Mum reaches out to me. I look between them, utterly torn. I’m at the centre of a storm, being pulled this way and that by a tornado of emotion. I agree with everything Beau said. I understand his anger and his pain. Fuck, I feel it too. But I’m not sure I can walk away. I don’t think I can forgive her either. Am I justified or an arsehole? Do I have a right to be angry, knowing she was sick?
“We’re happy,” I say. I want her to know that we turned out okay, despite her and Dad.
Beau sighs and slumps in his chair.
“Beau’s a lawyer.”
“Really? That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
He clenches his teeth.
“What about you?” Mum asks me.
I look her dead in the eyes. “I’m a pro-Dom.” I’ll be damned if I’m going to hide such a huge part of my life from a woman I barely know.
“A”—she falters, blinking slowly—“what?”
“Pro-Dom. I tie people up and whip them for a living.”
Her jaw drops.
“We live with six other guys in London. I’m seeing a man who makes me incredibly happy.”
“A man?”
“I’m gay.”
“We both are,” Beau says quietly.
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Mum whispers. “Both of you.”
“Are you?” I ask.
“I am now, yes. It took a long time to feel like I was even deserving of love. I’ve come a long way since… since… I’m sorry.” She plays with the hem of her jumper. “What now? Do you want to keep in touch, or…?”
“I don’t know.” I glance at Beau. “I think we need some time to process everything you’ve said. Do you want to keep in touch?”
