Chapter 22 Minns #2
“You make me brave, baby. So does V. I want us to be able to be with him for real. But it’s right there in black and white—we can't be together unless something changes. I don’t want to fuck up like I did with Hux.
I want to be brave like he was when he met Cara and Roe, and like Locke was when he proved to Hollywood that a bi guy can be a movie star. ”
Kam smiled, the first genuine one I’d seen since we’d woken up. "Let’s book a flight."
***
“Mom, hi,” I greeted.
We were getting coffee at Palm Springs International, waiting to be called for the first leg of our journey.
We’d managed to get an early morning flight out of Big Bear to Palm Springs, then a connecting one to Boston via Phoenix.
We wouldn’t arrive in Boston until midnight given the layover, but I’d booked a room at the airport hotel, and we could take a rideshare to my parents in the morning.
With any luck, it would be a quick few-hours’ visit, another night in the hotel celebrating, and an early morning flight back to San Diego.
“Chris, it’s good to hear from you, love. How are you?”
The truth was, my empty stomach was churning, my palms were sweaty, and I was ready to puke—I was tempted to find a bar and get a few shots past tipsy, except I didn’t want Kam to have to drag my drunk ass around. But I couldn’t tell Mom any of that.
“I’m good. Listen, Mom, Kam and I had the weekend free, so we’ve hopped on a flight to come and see you.”
“Really?” She sounded excited.
It’d been years since we’d been home. My folks made the trip to San Diego last year to visit, and Kam’s came just before the shitstorm with TMZ, but we hadn’t even thought about seeing them since.
Kam’s sister had cut off all contact with her, and things were still tense between Kam and her mother.
Then there were my brothers and their perfect wives with their perfect bounty of offspring—hands down, those kids were the best part of our family, so no shade to them, but they did make us look terrible.
No matter how successful a hockey player I was, we would never measure up to them in my siblings’ or my parents’ eyes.
Or maybe I was projecting all that.
Maybe, because I knew I was different, I held myself at a distance and never let them close enough to disappoint me. Whatever the reasons, things had to change. I was done playing this role. I wanted to throw off the mask I’d been wearing my whole life and finally be me.
“Can we come over for lunch tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll invite John and Collette over, too, and cook your favorites.” I could hear shuffling and a door opening and closing. “Peter, Chris is coming home for the weekend. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
It didn’t escape my attention that Mom hadn’t mentioned a word about Kam. I bit my tongue, not wanting to get into an argument with her over it. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow.
“That’s great,” Dad responded gruffly.
To the church community, he was the man who’d give you the shirt off his back.
But he’d been strict to the point of cruel when I was a kid.
I’d been terrified of him. It was only with the benefit of distance and learning from my nieces and nephews that my brothers’ parenting style was exactly the same as Dad’s that I realized Dad ruling with an iron fist was learned behavior.
Grandpa Joe died just after I was born, but Mom liked to tell me how much alike they were.
Their looks, but more so their mannerisms and even the way they spoke, were alike.
It was as if the passing down of generational trauma through abusive parenting was a goal in my family.
We were at least three generations in and going strong.
“Okay, Mom. Our flight is about to be called. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay, love. See you then. I’ll pray for you to have a safe flight.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I hung up, and Kam squeezed my hand. “She’s going to invite your Mom and Dad.”
She nodded. Kam had already spoken with her parents to let them know we’d be there.
Boarding was announced, and once we were buckled into our seats, time absolutely dragged. Every minute felt like an hour, every hour a week. By the time midnight rolled around and we staggered into the hotel just outside of Boston Logan, we were exhausted.
I’d wanted to message V all day, and the temptation hit me hard again when I sat down on the bed in our hotel room.
He’d been at the forefront of my thoughts for months; tonight, it was for a whole different reason.
I’d told Kam to give me the day, but I needed to talk to my parents first. I couldn’t just call him up and ask him to reconsider.
I needed to show him that I was prepared to change before I asked him to do the same.
We showered and slid under the covers. I reached for Kam. I needed her in my arms. I breathed deep, forcing my nerves down. I could do this. For me. For us. I wanted to be free.
My sexuality had become a dirty secret that I’d hidden from for too long.
Kam had been the first and only person I told.
Years passed, and she caught me looking at a man in college.
She went and picked him up, introduced us, and once we’d gotten to know each other better and trusted him enough not to talk, she suggested a threesome.
He’d been my first everything with a man.
So, when it came time to exploring Kam’s sexuality, I’d done the same for her.
Kam accepted me without question. She was a far better person than me—I didn’t fully accept myself until V.
With one sentence he’d shone a torch on the shame I was living with.
He’d praised me. He reminded me every time we were together that I was strong and what I wanted wasn’t wrong, nor did it make me less of a man because of my sexuality.
Everything he did had helped immeasurably.
I’d barely put up a fight that first time, but that just reinforced how right he was for us and how exhausted I’d been from fighting myself for so long.
They’d both given me the strength to believe in myself. Now I was going to live my truth and in turn, free Kam and me to live authentically together.
“Get some sleep,” I murmured, then kissed Kam’s head.
“Will you wake me if you can’t sleep? Assuming I’m not just lying here staring at the ceiling myself.”
“No, there’s no need for us both to be exhausted tomorrow.”
“We don’t have to do this,” she reminded me. “We can just visit, have lunch, and go home on Monday.”
“I know.” I exhaled heavily and rubbed my tired eyes. “But it’s time.”
There was a long pause, and I thought she’d fallen asleep. When she moved the hand she had wrapped around my waist up to my chest, I realized she had more to say.
“Are we going to talk about V?”
“There’s not really much to say right now, is there?”
Kam huffed and tweaked my nipple hard.
“Ow, fuck.” I rubbed my bruised skin as she propped herself up on her elbow and glared down at me.
“You know there is, Chris,” she growled and poked me in the side.
“Coming out is one thing, but you aren’t calling the shots on our relationship this time.
This is a joint decision.” She gestured between the two of us, and I nodded, acquiescing.
“I told you I’d give you the day. The day’s up. We’re contacting him tomorrow.”
“Can you give me until after lunch? I want to tell them first.”
“Fine.” She settled back into my arms and sighed. “I don’t want to let him go, either, but I’m worried about you coming out to your parents.”
“I’ll be okay,” I murmured, trying to sound convincing.
We fell quiet then, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. Kam got a couple of hours of fitful sleep, but I was still lying awake when dawn broke.
The anxious flutters in my belly had turned to cramps, and the measured, deep breaths I’d been working on regulating had disappeared. Instead I was practically hyperventilating. I was a basket case, but with every hour that passed, my resolve had solidified. I was as ready as I’d ever be.
We were silent as the rideshare took us to my childhood home. I held Kam’s hand tight. She was the only thing keeping me in the car. Nerves had turned to outright dread about an hour earlier, and I’d puked my guts up twice before managing to get my ass out of the hotel into the car.
I felt like I was about to be delivered to the executioner.
The familiar neighborhood whizzed by as we drove. It was the same, yet so different—a lot like me. So many of the old insecurities I thought I’d shed had reared their ugly heads again just by driving down the street.
It was lined with beautifully maintained colonial houses that had SUVs in garages, basketball hoops on driveways, and during summer, bikes in yards.
At this time of year, there was a dusting of snow everywhere.
It was magical. Christmas decorations had come down weeks earlier, but I still remembered which of the houses were lit up when I was a kid.
My parents lived at number twenty-five. Mom thought it was a good number—Christ’s birthday. Our Christmas celebrations weren’t the gaudy kind with lights and Santa and his reindeers. We’d had a nativity scene complete with real hay in the manger.
We rounded the bend in the street, and my heart stopped. There were cars parked everywhere, and instinctively I knew they were all there to see us.
“Shit,” Kam muttered. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
I met the driver’s gaze and knew he was listening. “Nah, busy is good,” I lied. “What’s a bit of noise when it’s happy kids playing?”
“Yeah,” she grumbled. “Of course.”
The driver pulled up, and I slid out, then held my hand for Kam to take. We watched as the driver pulled away, and with my belly in knots, I gestured to the house with a tilt of my head. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Chris—”
“Please. Let’s just do it.”