Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WEDNESDAY—TWO DAYS LATER
THADDEUS
The front door opened before I’d even had a chance to knock—a combination of my mother’s impatience and my procrastination as I stood on her doorstep.
That whole courage thing was taking a bit of getting used to.
It was all too easy to succumb to the old voices in my head telling me to be quiet.
Respect your parents. Remember what they gave up for you.
Don’t make waves about silly things that don’t matter.
Except those things actually did matter. They mattered a lot. Whether Ryder forgave me or not, I wasn’t going to build the life I wanted by catering to everyone else’s expectations. Halle-fucking-lujah.
“Thaddeus!” My five-foot-nothing mother wrapped her arms around my chest and set about hugging the life out of me.
When she finally let go, she stood back and ran a critical eye over my frame.
“You don’t seem to have lost too much weight, so I guess that’s something.
” She tugged me by the hand through the lounge and into the kitchen, talking as she walked.
“I’ve got some leftover lamb and cheese burek heating in the oven for our lunch.
Sit yourself down, and we’ll eat first and talk later.
I can’t think on an empty stomach, and you certainly have a few problems that need sorting out. ”
Oh God. And so it begins. I did as she said, protesting, “I’m fine, Mum. Really, I’m not hungry.” A comment that drew an acerbic look and prompted me to change tack. “Some burek will be perfect, thanks.” Choose your battles, Thaddeus. Choose your battles.
My mother grunted approval at my backpedalling, and the kitchen fell quiet as she pulled a tray out of the oven and apportioned the meat-filled pastry onto two plates.
The unctuous aroma of herbed lamb and melted cheese filled the kitchen, and I was transported back to my youth when my mother always made enough for leftovers at school the next day.
I was unusually popular with the in-crowd on those particular days and often didn’t get a bite before the burek was handed around and devoured.
We ate in silence for a while. Well, my mother did. I mostly pushed my food around my plate, trying not to catch her eye. My stomach was a roiling mess of acid nerves, and eventually, I gave up altogether and stared out the window.
My lack of appetite didn’t go unnoticed.
With a grunt of dissatisfaction, my mother rested her knife and fork on her plate and leaned back in her chair.
“Fine. Come on then.” She clasped her hands in her lap.
“Spit it out. Where have you been and why couldn’t you tell me? ” She was nothing if not forthright.
She’d opened the door, but it was still so hard to walk through.
I pushed my plate to the side, swallowed a drink of water, and then started to speak.
I told her where I’d been, what I’d been doing, and who I’d met.
I said I was sorry for shutting her out but that I’d needed some time to think things through and plan for a very different future than the one I’d been sleepwalking toward.
She’d frowned at that but said nothing, a miracle in itself.
I told her I’d met a man who’d been kind enough to let me stay and who I thought I might like to see more of.
And finally, I told her that I’d discovered some things about myself and my work that I wanted to change and that I’d made some decisions about that, which she may or may not like but she would have to live with.
Her eyes narrowed. “So, I take it you’re not here to get my opinion on anything, then?”
My gaze remained steady on hers. “No, Mum, I’m not. I’d welcome your support, but your opinion or approval won’t change anything. I’m doing this for me. For my future. For my happiness.”
She huffed, “You’re implying that those things aren’t just as important to me as they are to you. You’re my son, Thaddeus. Of course I want you to be happy.”
I gave a long blink and counted to five.
“I’m not implying anything, Mum,” I argued.
“I’m saying that I want to plot my own course, for good or for bad, without interference, even from you.
I’m saying that you raised me well, but it’s time for me to trust myself and move forward with my life in a way that fits me best, even if it’s different from what you would choose for me. ”
My mother shifted uncomfortably in her chair, clearly unhappy.
She studied my face, like she was weighing her options for the best way to go about shutting this nonsense down without actually seeming to do that.
Eventually, she loosed a heavy sigh and said, “Okay, out with it, then. What are these momentous decisions that you’ve made? ”
“I’m selling my share in the company,” I said bluntly, moving on before she could argue.
“Either to Phillip, if he wants and can afford it, or to someone else if he doesn’t.
Either way, I’m done. I want a change in direction, Mum.
I want to build software that helps the world’s problems and doesn’t add to them.
I want to feel good about what I do and how I earn a living.
And I want to get to know this man I met a lot better, if he’ll let me.
I screwed up with him, Mum, and I need to set that right. ”
My mother’s mouth opened and closed several times before she finally gasped, “You’re selling the company?
But why? You built it. You left university to set it up.
I didn’t agree with it at the time, of course, but I have to admit it’s been very successful for you.
” She wrung her hands as she spoke. “How can you walk away from that? Is it because of this man? Has he made you feel guilty about what you do? He’s not worth the ground you walk on if he’s done that. ”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “No, Mum. Ryder didn’t make me feel guilty.
” I was fighting to hold my temper, and my mother’s eyes narrowed at my tone.
I didn’t apologise. “Ryder didn’t make me feel or do anything.
I learned it all on my own. In fact, I think I always knew it, I just wasn’t being honest with myself.
I love coding, and I didn’t want to think too much about some of the contracts we took, because I was lying to myself that it didn’t matter.
That if I didn’t do it, someone else would, so what did it matter? ”
“But that’s true,” my mother insisted. “It’s the way of the world, and what’s wrong with that? It’s made you a lot of money.”
Here we go. “I never really cared about the money—”
“Poppycock,” she mocked. “That’s what people say who have plenty of it. When your father and I came to New Zealand—”
“You were poor, I know,” I finished for her.
“I’ve heard the story a thousand times. You worked your butt off so that when I came along, I wouldn’t have to struggle like you did.
So that I’d have more choices in life. I get that, Mum.
But you need to understand that this is me making those choices that you worked so hard to give me.
I’m not throwing them away. I’m making them.
And you have to trust that I know what I’m doing.
That I believe in myself, something I’ve only just realised these last few weeks. And that I’ll be okay.”
She huffed dispiritedly. “Why? Because some man says you’ll be? What can he really know about you after only three weeks? He’ll never understand you like I do.”
I took a deep breath and quashed the urge to simply start shouting.
But it wasn’t easy. “No. Not because of what Ryder says, although he helped open my eyes. It’s because of everything you did.
I have the courage to do these things because of you.
I might not have shown much bravery in the past, but that’s not because it wasn’t there.
It’s because I was too focused on making you and everyone else happy, not me. ”
“You left your studies and didn’t even tell me—”
“Yes, I did,” I said evenly. “And do you have any idea how hard that was for me? I was terrified of letting you down. That’s why I couldn’t talk about it with you. And then you didn’t talk to me for six months. So that taught me, huh?” I let her sit with that truth for a moment.
To her credit, she blushed. “I was only thinking of you.”
I reached for her hand. “I know you were, Mum. And I’ll always be grateful for the opportunities you’ve given me, but you have to stop judging me based on your idea of success or what a good relationship is.
I’m a big boy now. I can deal with my own successes and failures, including those around who I choose to date. ”
Her jaw worked angrily, and I knew this would be hard for her to hear. I’d never spoken this way or revealed how I felt about the expectations I’d grown up with. This could make or break us, and the jury was still out.
Finally, she snapped. “You say that like you’re the same as everyone else.
But I’m not stupid, Thaddeus. I read the papers and listen to the news.
I know it’s hard for men . . . like you .
. . out there.” She flicked her head toward the window as if a lonely file of gay men were currently passing along our road.
“Men like me?” I eyeballed her pointedly. “As in gay, Mum? Or did you mean physically weak? Or maybe you meant both.”
Her shoulders set. “You’re twisting my words. You know I’m right. It’s dangerous for someone like . . .” She trailed off as if suddenly realising she was about to make my point for me.