“I just had to take care of some stuff.” Even though it wasn’t the entire truth, it wasn’t a lie either. I wanted to tell him I’d be home soon, but I didn’t want to lie to him.
Or to myself. I was done with that.
Somewhat satisfied, he answered, “Okay. But can you call before bed tonight? I really want to tell you about karate.”
“You got it, buddy.” And I meant it. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my son.
Except stay.
Her voice was muffled as she told Simon to go watch some TV while she talked to Daddy. The struggle to keep it all together weighed down each word as it fell from her mouth. A deep and almost painful-sounding breath filled the line before she spoke and when she did, all she could manage was my name again.
“Li, let me explain.” It was the dumbest thing I could have said because I had absolutely no way of explaining anything. But I had to.
“I’m just . . . it’s so . . . ,” she stammered, trying so hard to catch her breath and make sense of her words. “You’re alive,” she choked out before gasping for air between sobs. “You’re alive. You’re alive,” she repeated as she gave in to the dread I was sure she’d felt in her chest from the moment she read that damned note. “Where are you?”
Sarge nudged the side of my leg, knowing I needed the support. “Texas.” I bit the bullet.
“Texas?” The question sounded like a curse. “Why did you go there? You hate it there.”
She knew I had a falling out with my parents. She never knew why, because if she did, we wouldn’t have ended up together. She knew I hated it here. She knew I wanted to get as far away from here as possible. She knew I never wanted to come back, either.
But everything she knew was a lie.
The wordsI’m gayplayed on repeat in my head, but they just wouldn’t make it to my mouth. I couldn’t speak them. So I let her ramble. “Whatever it is, Micah, we can work it out. I’m here for you. I know you didn’t mean what happened. We’ll get you help—”
The tether on my barely there control snapped on that last phrase. “I don’t need help,” I lied. The kind of help she was talking about was definitely something I needed, but all I heard was my father’s words.
No. This is not you. You’re not likethat. We’ll get you help. Straighten you out. Make everything right again.
In his mind, getting help meant making me not gay. A white-hot fit of rage burned in my chest. Angry at the younger version of myself for not taking a stand, I shot up from the bench, the nerves in my legs twitching with anxiety. “Stop,” I yelled, cutting her off. “Look, there were some things I needed to take care of here.”
“But we could have come with you. I want to be there to help you,” she pleaded.
“No.” I sighed. “I have to do this alone.”
“What is it?” Her rage was brewing, canceling out the worry that was slowly vanishing. “What is so freaking important you had to leave in the middle of the night? Tell me, Micah. What the fuck is so big you had to leave a note that made me think you killed yourself? Do you know how difficult it was to tell Simon you weren’t here? You think he understands any of this? Hell, I fucking don’t understand any of it. So you better get talking. Make sense of this. Because right now all I know is that you’re alive, but not here with us.” Her outrage left her spent. Breathless, she waited for me to give her all the answers she demanded.
“I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“You can’t what? Come on, Micah.” Her voice softened, and it cracked my heart in half. “It’s me. You can tell me anything.”
She was right. I could tell her anything. Time and time again, she’d proven that to me. She sat up with me at night listening to the horrors that kept sleep at bay. It was always Delilah who made me feel like I could face the world I swore was stacked against me. But how could I tell her this? It would break her.
It would break me.
“Micah, please,” she begged. “Talk to me.”
“It has nothing to do with you. This is all on me,” I hedged.
“Whatever it is, we’ll face it together. This is us, babe.”
A cynical chuckle fell from my mouth. We wouldn’t beusafter she knew. The overwhelming need to own up to who I was consumed me. The words needed to come out. My story needed to be told. I had to be honest with her—and to myself. “Li, I’m gay.”
Her response was silence. Just as I’d expected. I’d never actually said the words aloud, except for once, to my parents. And that went over spectacularly. So the words, they lived in my head all my life, and now that they were out there, I couldn’t say I felt any lighter. She started crying again, and it was pure torture listening to her trying to catch her breath. “Delilah, say something.” I didn’t know why I needed her to talk. I couldn’t imagine what must have been going through her head, and I definitely didn’t want to hear what she thought of me or of what I just told her. But I needed to hear her anger. Her disgust. Her hatred.
Because then I could go on feeling those things about myself.
After a deep breath, her sniffles stopped. She calmed herself, and I imagined she rolled her shoulders back, setting her spine straight the way she always did when she had something important to say. “Okay,” was all she said.
