Chapter Thirteen #3
I place my hand over his, cutting him off, and I feel him tense below me, but he doesn’t shrug me off.
“Evan, it’s nothing I haven’t encountered before.
I may not have much of a spine, but I do have thick skin.
I’ve heard it all. My mothers being lesbians turned me gay.
I’m queer, so of course I enjoy sissy sports like cheerleading.
Which, by the way, those stunts are not for sissies, just sayin… ”
That gets his lips to tip up a little bit.
“But it does get better, I swear. The more real to yourself you are, the more you accept yourself, and the better it becomes. You start not to give a rat’s behind about what others think.
And what do you think would happen if you were to explore your sexuality, so that you could be a more authentic you?
How do you think Colton would feel about that? ”
“He’d be pissed at me. He’d be embarrassed.”
“Do you really think your son would be mad at you for being attracted to other men—something you can’t help? He’d despise you for something biologically woven into you?”
“He already hates me,” Evan replies.
“I don’t think that’s true. It seems to me an awful lot like he seeks your attention, with the vandalism and stuff.
When teenagers like him seek attention, they do whatever it takes, even if it’s negative.
What they’re truly looking for is approval, which also means you matter to them.
I don’t truly think he’d want you to spend the rest of your days alone and miserable. I think he’d want you to be happy.”
He scoffs. “You don’t know that. You barely know either of us.”
“I do know what it’s like to be the single parent of a teenager who’s lost another parent, though.
You don’t think Morgan doesn't go through rebellious phases? She totally does. Yearly, as a matter of fact. I’ve learned they tend to happen right around Mother’s Day, Ryann’s birthday, and on the anniversary of her mother’s death.
Those are the times when I forgo having my own pity-party over the events where I miss my sister the most, and shower Morgs with even more love and attention.
I show her that I’ll be there for her, even when she’s being a total numb-nugget.
“Deep down, though, I know she still wants what’s best for me.
She reminds me all the time that she’s annoyed with me for not putting myself first and going out more.
She’s actively trying to save up enough to get a car so she can go out and be more independent, so I can make that time for myself.
I know the root cause of my daily doldrums; I’m too busy to go do all that.
I know I’ll get there someday though, and then I’ll be wishing I had her back again—so I won’t be a lonely cat-dad. ” I chuckle wryly.
“You deserve more than that,” Evan tells me.
“What makes you think I deserve happiness more than you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly. There isn’t a reason in the world why I deserve to be happy and fulfilled, and you don’t,” I say, sitting back and crossing my legs, like a lawyer who’s just slammed shut their case.
Only, I think I just opened up a new file by saying that, because now I see how I can help here. I have a spur-of-the-moment idea. It would mean that I’d have to bend some rules though, but at this juncture, I really can’t see any other way to do it.
I could totally get him to accept his sexuality by letting him explore a little.
He can hopefully go back home feeling brave enough to admit that he’s attracted to men.
He’s helped me out so much already, it’s time I return the favor.
Perhaps being a tool he can use to be more open will give me a sense of personal purpose, unrelated to my current obligations.
I can help him feel comfortable being seen, and the next man who he finds himself lusting after won’t be burdened with helping him through his awakening. Like a sexuality coach or something. Maybe just someone who can help be the catalyst to get him back into the dating world more authentically.
Would I prefer it be with me? Absolutely.
But I’m nothing if not a realist. His tenure here has a time limit.
He has a home to get back to and a life to live once this summer is over.
I’m far too busy to even entertain a relationship, much less anything long-distance, but I can at least get Evan primed and ready for one.
Cripes, I think I just likened myself to a butt-plug.
I lean forward again. “Internalized homophobia,” I say bluntly.
Evan cocks an eyebrow up at me.
“It’s the fear of discovery of your own sexuality due to perceived negative intolerance or stigma.
I believe you’re suffering from it. By the sounds of it, you’ve gone your entire life trying to fit into this mold that society has constructed of what it means to be a man’s man.
What if I told you that we men don’t have to be made of steel?
We can enjoy things like cheerleading, going out and photographing things like butterflies and flowers,” I say, gesturing at my open computer screen, “and we can find attraction to other men as well. It shouldn’t be so taboo. ”
He ponders that, I can practically see the gears turning in his mind.
“Let me be all shrinky on you, and give you some homework,” I propose.
“And what would that be?” he scoffs.
“Be reckless with me. Just for tonight."