“I can’t keep living a lie,” Donovan says, “I guess I hoped that with everything that’s gone on with you and Beth, that you’d understand. You can’t help who you love, and when you love someone, you don’t want to hide it.”
For a moment I wonder if something sparks in Angel’s eyes, but I blink, and they’ve returned to being cold and empty.
He shakes his head. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Then I guess this is goodbye,” Donovan says.
My entire body freezes, how is Donovan being so calm about this? I want to punch Angel, scream at him. But Donovan simply turns and walks back into the house.
“Are you coming, Elizabeth?” Angel says, walking towards his bike.
“Coming?” I ask.
“Yeah, home.”
“What? No, I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?” He stops moving and turns to look at me.
“Angel… you’ve just said goodbye to Donovan; told him he’s not going to be in your life anymore.”
He shrugs. “It’s what I had to do.”
“This is so fucked up!” I cry, “We’ve watched so many films and TV shows where characters have been gay, or lesbian, or trans, and you’ve never had an issue with it. In fact, I distinctly remember you saying how cute some of the stories were.”
“Yeah, but this is different.”
“Different?” I ask, “Why, because it’s your brother?”
He doesn’t answer and that just makes me angrier.
“So let me make sure I’m understanding this. It’s fine for people to be gay, you’re on board with the whole ‘love is love’ thing, unless it’s someone in your family, or someone linked to the club, is that it?”
He still doesn’t reply. I can’t hold the tears back anymore; they’re running down my face and I don’t even try to stop them.
“Angel…” my voice breaks and I try to take a couple of deep breaths. “You need to think carefully, because this is a deal-breaker for me. I cannot, and will not, be in a relationship with someone who is homophobic, transphobic… someone who has any kind of hate purely because of who someone loves or their gender.”
I look him straight in his eyes and I can see some flashes of emotion there, but overall, he’s still cold and dark.
“If you’re really saying that you can’t, or won’t, accept Donovan… we’re done.”
Chapter 22
Elizabeth
Theglassofthetrain window has grown warm where my forehead leans against it, the world outside rushing by in a blur. I barely notice, the only image I see is the look on Angel’s face before he rode off on his bike. He didn’t even say anything, and I haven’t heard from him since. The last words I said to him echo in my mind… If you’re really saying that you can’t, or won’t, accept Donovan… we’re done.
Last night, the thought of going back to the guest room where we’d spent the previous night sleeping together was too much, his scent would still linger there. Instead, I spent the night cuddled up to Donovan on the sofa; both of us crying, too heartbroken to talk about it.
Breakfast had been a somber affair, which made me even more upset for Donovan. After coming out to Sofía and Miguel, he should have spent his morning hugging them, laughing with them, telling them about his boyfriend. Instead, we were silent, our eyes red from crying. Sofía fussed about the kitchen, I imagine trying to distract herself from her own hurt and disappointment in Angel; he’d always saidshe was worried he’d turn out like his father… maybe she was right after all.
It won’t be long till I’m back in Tynerston, and the only place I have to go is the clubhouse. I’m not sure what to expect, I’m hoping he just needed time to process. That the ride home will have helped him see sense, we can talk, then he can talk to Donovan, and we’ll all be okay. But I know the universe doesn’t always give us best case scenarios.
When I open the door to the clubhouse, I feel heavy, as though a lead weight is sitting in my stomach. The atmosphere seems quiet, tense. The guys are sitting around a table eating lunch; Tank, Slim, and Pretty Boy all with a beer, while Angel nurses a whiskey.
“Hey,” I make my way closer, the guys giving me soft smiles, but Angel doesn’t even lift his eyes. “Diablo, please can I talk to you?”
He downs his drink and slams the glass on the table, before standing and facing me, coldness in his eyes.
