#Rev (GearShark #2)(85)

We made small talk for a few more minutes while she continued peeling and slicing apples. When the conversation started to wane, I cleared my throat.

“So I came over because I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” she asked, not looking up.

I nodded. “About a magazine that’s interviewing me.”

“Well, that’s exciting.” She looked up. “Is it for school?”

“It’s a driving magazine. Drew’s a racecar driver.”

She glanced up at that. “Really? Well, that sounds exciting.”

Drew smiled. “It has its moments.”

“Do you drive a Mustang like Trent?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s an old model.”

“Mom and Granny helped pay for my car,” I told him. “I saved my money half my life because I wanted a car when I turned sixteen.” I smiled at the memory.

“Well, we had to get you something so you could get yourself around. With my two jobs, it was hard being everywhere at once.” Mom agreed.

“Anyway,” I said as I avoided Drew’s stare. “I’m gonna be talking about some stuff with the magazine that I wanted to tell you about first. You know, in case you read the article.”

She laughed lightly. “You know I barely have time to read.”

Drew sat up; his feet hit the floor. Beneath the table, I put a hand on his leg, telling him it was okay.

“Well, you might hear people talk,” I said.

“About what?” she asked, still cutting apples.

“About the fact that Drew and I are in a relationship.”

She said nothing. Nothing at all. She just stood there and kept slicing. I knew she heard, though, because of the way she stiffened and the white-knuckled grip she had on the knife.

Finally, she turned, her gaze bouncing between Drew and me. “You and him?”

I nodded.

“You’re gay?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m gay.”

She turned her back and kept cutting. I glanced at Drew. He gave me a wary look, and I shrugged.

I really thought she’d say more than nothing.

“Mom?” I asked after a few more minutes of strained silence.

The sharp thud of the knife going into the cutting board point first was the beginning of more than nothing.

“You ungrateful child,” she intoned and gripped the edge of the counter. Tension radiated off her shoulders.

“What?” I asked.

She spun. “After all the sacrifices I’ve made for you. The years I worked day after day to make sure you had a home and clothes and food. This is how you repay me?”

“Me being gay has nothing to do with you, Mom,” I said, a little caught off guard.

“It has everything to do with me!” she shrieked and pushed off the counter. “What I don’t understand is why you would want to hurt me this way.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” I argued.

“What will people think?” she worried. “What will they say about me? They’ll think something is wrong with me because I raised my son to be gay.”

She glanced up, anger in her eyes. “You’re ungrateful and selfish.”

I reared back. I might have expected more than nothing when I told her, but I hadn’t expected this. “You think I’m being selfish,” I repeated.

I really didn’t know what to think. She was making this all about her. She never even appeared to wonder what it was like for me to come here and tell her. For me to have to come to terms with being gay.

“I know you are!” she shouted. “You’re only thinking about yourself. I raised you, even after your father left! He didn’t want you!” she cried. “Maybe this is why!”

That pierced. It pierced the most tender part of my heart.

Drew stood abruptly, the wooden chair clattering to the floor. “I suggest you think about what you say from here on out before you let it fly out of your mouth,” he said, calm, almost deadly.

“Don’t you talk to me that way in my home. This isn’t any of your business. This is a family matter.”

“He is my family,” I said, standing. “He’s been more of a family to me than you’ve ever been.”

“How dare you?” She gasped and put a hand up to her neck. “Is this why you’re trying to humiliate me? Because you think I’ve been a bad mother?”

Drew laughed bitterly. “You think you’ve been a good one?”

“You don’t know anything about our life.” She gave him a disdainful look.

“I don’t think you’re a bad mother,” I said, weary. “I’m sorry this has upset you.”

“Then stop it,” she said, disregarding Drew. “You can stop this before it’s too late.”

Stop being gay?

I wanted to laugh. She acted like it was something I worked at. Something I tried to be. I could no more stop being gay than the sun could stop rising.

I could no more stop loving Drew than the ocean could stop moving.

“I can’t. It’s who I am.”

“I’ll call Granny!” she threatened. “I’ll call and tell her what you’re doing. She’ll disown you. She’ll never speak to you again!”