Her lips trembled. “You’re ashamed of me, aren’t you? I’m sorry I’m such a burden.” She placed the cup on the counter but left the water running.
“Of course not. I could never be ashamed of you; you’re my mother.” And he meant it. His mother was loving, kind, and gentle; he knew she’d be accepting. But knowing it inside and saying it out loud to her were two separate things. You could never be certain until the words were spoken and your soul laid bare.
“So what is it? What are you holding inside that has you tied up in knots, looking sick to your stomach?” She placed a hand on his arm, and he gave her a questioning look.
“What?”
“Is it Sam?” She glanced over at him sitting at the table. “Is he your boyfriend?”
The mug he held crashed in the sink, breaking into half a dozen shards. “Wh-what?” He licked his lips in nervous anxiety. “My boyfriend?”
She turned off the water and led him back to the table and Sam. “Sit.” She pointed at the chair. “Instead of having this conversation over the kitchen sink, I think we should sit down like adults, don’t you?”
Her tone brooked no objection and like the obedient child he was, Zach complied. He met his mother’s eyes over the expanse of the old wooden table, but there was no condemnation, only love.
“Sam. I’m sorry to put you on the spot, but are you and my son dating? And if you’re trying to make a good impression on me, lying wouldn’t be a good thing right now.”
Shooting him a stunned look, Sam rubbed his chin. “Ahh.”
“It’s not for Sam to answer, Mom. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought him here without talking to you first, but it’s hard for me to explain this on my own, and Sam’s become a big part of my life recently, so it’s time you met.”
She loved Julian and Nick, and Zach long suspected she knew Marcus was gay, but didn’t feel it was her place to talk about his sex life. His mother was a believer in true love in all forms for all people, so his hopes were high that coming out to her now wouldn’t break their relationship.
So here at this kitchen table where he was told of his father’s death, he finally opened his heart to his mother.
“I’m gay, Mom. I didn’t plan on telling you today, but maybe it’s time already.” Sam’s hand crept into his, and he grabbed on to it for dear life. “No, not maybe, it is time. I’m twenty-nine years old and still scared about what my mother might say when I tell her I’m gay.”
Her gaze darted from Sam back to him, and Zach could swear that with her unerring sixth sense, she knew how hard his hand squeezed Sam’s.
“You were scared of me? What I might say to you?” Blinking furiously, she wiped her eyes with a tissue she pulled from the pocket of her shorts. “You’re my child, I love you. You remind me so much of your father, did I ever tell you?” She touched his cheek with shaking hands.
“No, Mom. I didn’t know that.” After he died, she’d put away all the pictures of his father and never took them out again, claiming it hurt too much to see him every day when he was never coming home again.
When his mother would go to sleep, Zach would quietly search through the house, looking for the pictures, any picture of his father he could keep. Except for a hazy memory of laughing blue eyes and dark hair, Zach had no recollection of what his father looked like.
“You do. And he would’ve been so proud of you, like I am and always will be. Nothing could ever change that.” She cupped his jaw. “Nothing. Do you understand me?”
The trembling in his body didn’t cease; in fact he shivered from it. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I know how much you wanted grandchildren, want them, I mean.”
The chair screeched as she abruptly stood, and he flinched from her emotional outburst. “Don’t ever say you’ve been a disappointment to me. You’re the only thing that’s kept me going all these years. My everything.”
That was the problem. Being with Sam now, wanting to explore where the tentative beginnings of their relationship might take them, meant he had to set boundaries with his mother where there’d never been a need for them before.
“I can’t be that for you anymore, Mom.” His broken whisper rang in his ears. “I can’t be your everything. I need to find out who I am, and find my own everything.”
Stricken, she gaped at him and Sam, who sat steady by his side, continuing to hold on to his hand with a firm grasp. “I thought you loved me.”
“I do. And it’s because I love you that we have to let go of each other.” He released Sam’s hand to grasp hers. “Our relationship isn’t healthy, you have to see that.”
When she said nothing, he continued to speak in a rush, the words flowing out of him fast, like a river overflowing, waiting a lifetime to be set free.
“I was so young when Dad died, I didn’t know what to do or how to help you. And I knew you were falling apart, and I had no one to turn to. Only Marcus talked to me, but I wanted my mom.”
“And I wasn’t there. I let you down.”
It killed him to have this talk, but his hope was if they put it out between them, they could move forward. No more hiding.
“In a way. But then I grew up and never tried to help you, because it was easier to simply stay here and make excuses. It made you happy. So, I’m as much at fault as you are. I let you down as well.”
