But I’d followed him anyway because my heart was in my mouth still and I didn’t want him to be in pain on his own. I knew enough about football to know that an injury like that could be career-ending. I didn’t want him to get that news on his own.
I sighed. I needed to do something right now to take my mind off everything. I wasn’t going to film him just sleeping in his own room for hours – and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to go through the footage yet. My heart was still pounding a little in my chest, even though it had been hours since it happened. I’d sat by Olly’s side as the team physio assessed him, then told him it was a muscle injury and wrapped him up. Given him strict instructions not to exacerbate it by playing or practicing for six weeks – he couldn’t even walk on it. They’d given him crutches and shown him how to use them and then sent us packing.
I grabbed a pad of paper that I normally used for storyboarding and making quick notes from one of my drawers. Even though Olly was on a lot of painkillers, probably enough to knock him out for the whole night, I closed the drawer gingerly. I didn’t want to make any loud noises. He needed his rest.
My mind kept going back to the look on his face when they told him he just had a muscle problem and not a broken bone. How relieved and also terrified he had looked. I knew that all of it could affect his future career – if he didn’t heal properly, if it was bad forever, then he might not be able to play at all. That was the first time I had ever seen Olly, who had probably something like half a foot of height on me, look small.
I took the lid off my pen and chewed the end of it, thinking. How did you even start writing a letter like this?
Dear Mom and Dad?
That was a good start, wasn’t it?
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. I was tired, but I wasn’t comfortable letting Olly sleep alone with no one watching over him – at least not for the first few hours on these painkillers. They were pretty strong. I didn’t want to wake up in the morning to find he’d choked on his vomit overnight.
That wouldn’t happen, right?
I tried to put the grizzly image out of my head. I needed to put pen to paper. That was the only way to distract myself from how worried I felt about Olly.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know you’re not expecting to receive this letter from me.
Was I being too formal? Maybe I needed to be formal. They needed to know I was serious about what I was saying.
There’s a lot that has happened between us, and I…
I wanted to screw up the paper into a ball and start again. But at the same time… I wanted to write what I felt. If they didn’t like it, that wasn’t my problem, was it? Like Clara had said, they didn’t want to talk to me. Maybe they never would. If I wanted them to listen, I was going to have to make them.
I needed to get it all out.
I needed them to hear me, even if they never chose to hear me again. Just this one time, I needed to make them know how I felt – how they had made me feel.
And for the good of my own soul, I needed to forgive them.
… and I know you don’t want to talk to me right now. That’s okay. Because I have a lot I want to say, and maybe it’s better if I get it down on paper. This way, we can’t yell at each other or lose the point of what I’m trying to say in arguments.
I need you to know that I forgive you.
I’m your son, and I can’t help how I turned out. I can’t stop myself from being gay. It’s not a choice. It’s just who I am.
If you can’t accept that – then I forgive you.
I have my own life now and my own goals. After you threw me out, I found my own way. I’m doing fine. I’m going to be fine. Maybe you don’t care anymore, but if you do, I hope that makes you feel some relief. I’ll be fine. I’ve got some money left over from what Grandma left me in her will, and I’m going to get a good job when I graduate. I’m going to have a good life.
If you want to get in touch again, you can write to me or call me. I haven’t changed my number. I won’t wait around, but I’m not going to shut you out. If and when you’re ready, I’m still alive. I’m here.
And if you don’t ever want to…
I forgive you.
I looked at what I had written. My heart caught in my throat, tears coming to my eyes. I wiped them away. This wasn’t the time to grieve. This was the time to celebrate. I was moving on. Letting them go. Letting go of any resentment that might have held me back.
I was doing what I needed to do for me. The right thing.
I looked over at Olly. He was sleeping peacefully, his wrapped leg propped up on a pillow.
If I hadn’t had that money from Grandma, I would have been like him. Nothing to my name. The only chance of getting into college would have been a scholarship – and I had looked; I wasn’t eligible for any. Apparently, proving you were estranged from your parents wasn’t easy. I wouldn’t have been able to come here at all.
