“I don’t know why he’s such a horrible person, Shane,” she whispers tightly. “I hate myself that he’s your father?—”
“Momma,no.”
“Don’t interrupt, darling. It’s not polite.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She winks at me. “I don’t regret it because it gave me you, and you are my greatest gift. But I wish I’d chosen better because you deserved so much more than that pile of scum for a father. That’s what he is, Shane. Your father is not a nice man. It doesn’t just extend to you and me. I’ve heard stories and seen him interact with others. I’m not sure why some people are evil in this world. But, baby, him being the way he is has nothing to do with you.”
She lifts our intertwined hands and kisses my knuckles. “You’re such a light, baby. I don’t think he could stand being around someone so pure and good. It made him have to face his ugliness.”
Maybe. It’s hard to grasp why a parent would leave their child. I know the bond I have with my mom, and I couldneverleave her. And he did…for what? For money? To rub elbows with the hoity-toities? And based on my short interaction with Graham, I’m not so sure he was the greatest father when he actually stuck around for the role.
I know Mom is right. Considering the kind of person my father is, I know both Mom and I were better off that he left. I’m not even sure it’s him I’ve been longing for all these years. I think I’ve just always wanted a father who would have chosen me. A husband who would have chosen Mom. We both deserved so much fucking better.
I knew that already, but now that I’ve experienced his cruelty, it’s glaring. And that’s something I left out in my recounting.
I draw in a steadying breath. “There’s one other thing that happened.”
“Yes?”
“You know how Frankie’s gay? And he owns it and doesn’t care who knows it?”
She nods slowly.
“My father made some assumptions…about me and Frankie. And he made it very clear what his thoughts are about queer individuals. He…” I swallow against the bile in my throat. “He insinuated we were preying on my little brother. That we were sick.”
Her face hardens, and her nose flares as she fights for calm. “I am not surprised that he would have bigoted views,” she says, her words stilted. “But he iswrong.The only villain in any of this is him. He is the predator, and that is exactly why he threw out those accusations. That’s what predators do: distract, find a group less powerful than them, turn them into the enemy. It’s smoke and mirrors so they can keep preying on others.”
Her hold on my hand tightens. “I’ll tell you right now, I’d feela million times saferin a room full of queer individuals than in a room full of straight men. They want you tobelieve otherwise, but trust me, working as an assistant to mostly men”—she shudders, and I’m a little terrified for what the reason behind that reaction is—“the last thing I’d want is to be alone with that lot.”
She sends me a sad smile. “There are bad eggs in every group, of course, but with straight men…” She sighs, and it’s so damn heavy. So exhausted. “Shaney, it’s not all men, but it’s always men. It often feels nearly impossible to find the ones that aren’t rotten.”
My heart breaks for her. My mom is the most amazing woman—person, point blank. Sometimes I wonder if she’s lonely. She’s dated here and there, never shared too much with me. But no one has ever stuck. I guess we’re kinda similar in that regard. The game of love is pretty damn hard. Feels less like a game and more likeSurvivor.
Her features soften, and her blue eyes smile at me. “I’m looking at one of the rare gems, though.”
My gaze skitters away, and I clear my throat. “Ah. About that…”
She makes a small, encouraging noise.
“So. He might have been wrong with his assumption about me and Frankie, but he wasn’t so wrong with the queer part. I…I’ve realized I like men and women.”
She sighs. “Well, I guess that explains why you’re so lovely. Not hetero after all.”
A chuckle bursts from me. “While I do feel like I’ve had a disproportionate number of bad interactions with that demographic—especially lately—Paulie is a really great guy. So, I guess there’s a gem.”
My mom smiles. “He is a lovely boy.”
I snort.
“Man.Man. Sorry. It’s the mom in me. And I know I was just very pessimistic. There are plenty of great men outthere. You just really have to dig through the filth. I swear, it’s like that scene inJurassic Parkwhere they’re digging through the massive piles of dung to find the cell phone.”
A surprised snort bursts from me, and my eyes go wide. I raise my brows at her, and we both fall into laughter.
She tilts her head and studies me. “How are you doing with it? Discovering this new side of yourself.”
My gaze drops to my lap, and I pick at my gray comforter. “I was doing really well with it, actually.” I bite my cheek. “Now, not so much,” I whisper.
