17. Chapter 17 #2
“He’s pretty unflappable. He just said okay and asked if I was dating anybody. I told him I wasn’t. He said any man would be lucky to have me, and that was it. I also had to come out at work and uni, but again, no one was surprised. I didn’t make a big deal out of it, and neither did anyone else.”
“It sounds like it couldn’t have gone any better,” he says, sounding genuinely happy for me.
“What about you?” I ask. “You mentioned a few things the other day, but…”
Beau coughs and clears his throat. “Not quite the same as yours.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” I try not to press since it seems like things hadn’t been as smooth for him, but I’m curious. If there’s anything I can do to make his time with my family easier, I want to know about it.
Beau takes a deep breath, eyes fixed ahead as he starts.
“After I broke up with Lauren our senior year of college, I couldn’t stand to see her hurt, so I told her.
She got over our split quickly after that.
But then I had to tell everyone else. I waited until after graduation because I didn’t want to deal with it while I was finishing school.
“When I finally came out to my family, I told my sister first. She didn’t seem bothered, but she did ask if I really wanted to do this right now, confirming my suspicion that the rest of the family might not take it so well.
I appreciated her concern, but I would have preferred her support.
” His voice cracks on the last few words.
“Turns out sisters are usually right about these things, though, because my brother and parents were even less enthusiastic about it.”
He falls silent, staring ahead, his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry, Beau,” I say, and I mean it. There’s an ache in my chest for him that his family would ever do anything to hurt him.
“Thank you,” he says, his posture relaxing slightly as he recovers from whatever memories he’d been mulling over.
“It wasn’t all bad. My grandmother was a gem about it.
” A small smile pulls at his mouth. “When I finally got up the gumption and told her, she said she was proud of me for trusting her. Said it takes courage to face the people we love. I’m not ashamed to admit I cried.
” He lets out a small laugh. “I wish you could’ve seen it, my tiny little granny comforting all two hundred and forty pounds of her weeping adult grandson. ”
“She sounds amazing,” I say, glad that someone was in his corner.
“She is.” His voice is reverent. “She refers to herself as a ‘tough old bitch.’ I would never call her that, of course, but I agree with the sentiment. She’s one of the strongest people I know.”
“So that’s where you get it from,” I say and push my elbow into his bulging tricep.
He chuckles. “I do get some of my inner strength from her, partly because of what she told me next. She said, ‘The first reaction is always the worst, but things will get better with time.’ I wasn’t sure I believed her, but she must’ve talked to my dad after that because he and my mom suddenly let the issue drop.
Though I’m sure time would’ve helped, my granny made sure things got better for me sooner rather than later. ”
“Go Granny Fontenot,” I say, my chest warming with love for a woman I don’t even know, simply because she cares for Beau.
“Go Granny Fontenot, indeed,” he says with a fond smile. “My parents don’t comment on it anymore, but I doubt they’ve changed their minds. Even if they did, I wouldn’t know. Supportive words aren’t really what we do in my family.”
There’s a slight edge in his voice, and I must be looking at him with sympathy because he quickly clarifies.
“Don’t get me wrong. They aren’t bad people.
I know they love me, and if I ever needed anything, they’d be there for me in a heartbeat.
I just wish I knew how they felt about it all now and if things really have gotten better since their first reactions.
For now, we all just avoid the topic, but… ”
“But what?”
He glances over before returning his eyes to the road, a hesitant smile playing at his beautiful lips. “I have this feeling that if they see me happy with someone, they’ll be okay.”
My heart races. The way he looked at me before he said it. Was he implying something about me? About us?
“I’m sure seeing you happy will make them come around,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, supportive. “That’s what most parents want for their kids.”
“I hope so,” he says. “But that’s one of the reasons I’m terrible at dating.
I want to find someone. I want a partner, a husband who will be by my side, who I know will support me, come what may.
When I meet someone I like, I get in my head and say dumb things.
First dates are rare, second are practically nonexistent.
” He exhales slowly. “I’m not usually an anxious person, but I’ve put so much pressure on this idea of acceptance from my family that it’s screwing with my ability to actually find someone.
Or so I’ve realized. Thanks, therapy.” He waves a finger in the air in mock celebration.
There’s a pause I’m not sure how to fill. I still can’t decide if he’s talking about me or just generally, or both, so I wait, sensing he’s not done.
“Anyway,” he says with a sigh, “I’m sure I’ll find him one day, and my parents will meet him and see how contented I am with him, and they’ll support me. I even think they’ll love him too, in time.” He’s almost wistful now.