Chapter 37 #2
It’s been dozens of Saturdays since that first conversation, but a strange sense of déjà vu nevertheless washes over me.
It’s the same words she’d said to me then, spoken in the same faintly judgmental tone.
As if I’m making terrible choices with my life and need her guidance to set me back on the proper course.
I can already see exactly how this conversation will go if I let it, the familiar script playing out as I try to defend myself only for her to brush my concerns aside.
To tell me how she’s worried about my lifestyle choices and wants what’s best for me.
And maybe she does in her own convoluted way.
But I think I’m finally ready to accept that so do I.
“Why do you always do that, Mom?” My accusation comes out weary, without any of the heat I’d originally intended.
There’s a long pause, no sound except static crackling on the line and the ceaseless susurration of the crowd around me like the lapping of water against the shore.
“Do what, honey?”
I clench my jaw. “Belittle me like that.”
Another pause. “What has gotten into you, Christopher? You cannot possibly be angry at a mother for worrying about her son.”
“Oh, so you weren’t about to lecture me on how I’m wasting my life?”
There’s a new edge to her voice when she replies, “Well, now that you mention it, it does seem like there are better uses for your time than going on some trip to the middle of nowhere. You are twenty-one now, only a year away from graduating. It is past time you buckle down and seriously consider your future.”
My temple throbs as I struggle to keep my voice reasonable. “I’m not some kid anymore you can boss around, Mom. I get to make my own choices about my life and what I want to do.”
“Because that has worked out so well for you, Christopher.” I flinch at the derision in her voice.
I’ve always known her disappointment was there, but usually, it remains lurking beneath the surface.
“Your father and I have tried to respect your wishes, misguided though they may be, hoping you would grow up on your own. But I am beginning to think we have been too lenient with you. First, that little rebellion of yours, then your change of major to English—it is like you are trying to throw your life away in order to punish us.”
It takes me a moment to realize what she means by little rebellion.
When I do, my grip tightens around my phone.
I’m grateful for my protective case—otherwise, I’d worry about damaging it.
“My sexuality is not some rebellious phase, Mom! I’m gay, whether you like it or not.
You can’t will it away because it doesn’t fit with your vision of my future, just like you can’t make me love business or engineering or anything else. ”
“This is not about what I think,” she retorts. “This is about you making important decisions without considering the consequences.”
“Oh, I know how they’ll affect me,” I snap.
“I’ll be a hell of a lot happier being myself than if I let you slap me into the box you’ve got picked out for me!
” I take a deep, calming breath. “You’re right about one thing, though, Mom.
This isn’t about you. I’ve let you get away with making it about you for far too long, but I’m done.
You can either respect and love me the way I am, or—” I swallow, unable to bring myself to finish the statement.
My mom keeps silent even longer this time. Long enough that I start to let myself hope that maybe, by some miracle, I’ve gotten through to her.
“Clearly, now is not a good time,” she says at last, and my heart sinks. “We will discuss this more once you are back from your trip.”
My chest feels too tight, but I manage to croak out, “All right.”
She clears her throat, her voice softening a fraction. “I…I love you, Christopher. Say goodbye to your father.”
“Bye, Dad.”
“Goodbye, son,” he replies, his voice even more subdued than normal. In the heated discussion with my mom, I’d forgotten that he’s usually a silent witness on these calls.
The line goes dead, and I slowly tuck my phone back into my jeans, struggling to parse my jumbled emotions.
I’d finally stood up to my mom, and it had gone…
okay. She hadn’t disowned me or anything, but I also wasn’t sure how much of my argument had sunken in.
And while my dad hadn’t supported her, he also hadn’t come to my defense either.
By the time Quinn emerges from the store to check on me, I’ve decided that, despite everything, I do feel a bit better.
My mom’s promise to talk later seems like an open door, and while it might be an uphill battle, I intend to do my part to stick up for myself until I can step through to emerge on the other side.
Even though this whole thing will be erased tomorrow anyway, at least now, I know I have the courage to do it.
“You good?” Quinn asks me, her brow furrowed in concern.
I nod and give her a smile. It’s weary and tinged with sadness, but it’s still the most genuine smile I’ve had in days. “No. But I think I will be.”