26. Myles
TWENTY-SIX
MYLES
"Y'know Myles," George begins, running his hand over the stubble on his chin, "we haven't gone back to that church since you set things straight with us a couple of weeks ago."
"Really?" My eyebrows raise in genuine surprise.
Cynthia nods, her eyes welling up with tears. "Your words were like a slap in the face, but in a good way. We realized we were saying we were allies of the LGBTQIA+ community, but our actions didn't match our words."
"Going to a church that preaches hate against other people... It's unconscionable how blind we were," George adds, shaking his head.
"Like listening to a bad singer at karaoke night and not having the heart to tell them," I muse, trying to inject a bit of humor into the heavy atmosphere. They chuckle lightly, and I feel my chest tighten with an odd mix of relief and sadness.
"Exactly," Cynthia agrees. "We should've spoken up against that hateful rhetoric and left the church the first time that pastor opened his mouth."
"Better late than never, right?" I give them a small smile, my heart swelling with gratitude for their willingness to change.
"Indeed," George says, leaning forward. "But there's something else we need to say, Myles."
"Shoot."
"We're ashamed of ourselves," Cynthia admits, her voice cracking. "And we're sorry for hurting you and our grandson."
Darn right, you should be, I think to myself before taking a deep breath. It would be stupid of me to hold on to anger and disappointment. It's easier to forgive than to hold on to resentment.
"We understand why you needed to protect him," George adds, his own eyes misty now. "We hope you can forgive us."
"Of course I can," I say after a moment, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm not one to hold grudges, unless it's over the last slice of pizza."
As we share a laugh, I feel warmth spreading through my body, bringing me comfort like a warm mug of hot chocolate on a winter night. It's a tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay after all.
"And because we know the importance of walking the walk," George says, his voice full of determination, "we've started volunteering at a shelter for LGBTQIA+ youths who've encountered hardships because of their identity."
"For real?" I ask, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "That's... wow. That's amazing."
"Yep," Cynthia chimes in, her eyes shining with pride. "And we're doing other things too, like donating to two LGBTQIA+ charities."
"Color me impressed." My tongue suddenly feels like sandpaper as a potent mix of relief and happiness washes over me. "You guys are really going all out."
"Like you said, Myles, actions speak louder than words," George explains, adjusting his glasses like a professor about to impart wisdom. "We want to make sure we're not just saying we support the LGBTQIA+ community, but actually showing it."
"You opened our eyes, Myles," my mother-in-law says. "You helped us see that being indifferent to the plight of our fellow man is a terrible, terrible thing."
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. "It means more than you know."
"Listen," Cynthia says, reaching out to clasp my hand in hers and giving it a squeeze before releasing it.
"We know we can't erase the past or change the hurt we've caused, but George and I have committed to doing better moving forward.
For you, for Nix, and for everyone else out there who deserves love and support. "
"Thank you. That means everything to me."
"Family is everything," George adds, patting me on the shoulder.
"Even when they drive us crazy," I quip, bringing laughter back into the room.
"Especially then," Cynthia agrees. She looks at me with a glint in her eyes. I can tell she's got something else on her mind. "You know, Nix mentions Tristan to us whenever he comes to visit," she says casually, too darn casually.
"Does he?" I ask, trying to hide my surprise. My inner voice screams, Oh great, what did he say? I willed myself not to fidget nervously, but beads of sweat form on my forehead.
"Mmhm, he does," Cynthia continues, her voice light and teasing. "He said that Tristan is a firefighter and lives next door."
"Ah... um, yes, that's true." I try to keep my composure, but my stomach is doing somersaults.
It's like she's reading my thoughts—thoughts about Tristan, my handsome neighbor who's somehow burrowed his way into my heart.
Thoughts about all the sex we've been having. Thoughts about wanting to marry him.
"Aaaaaand..." Cynthia smirks, and I brace myself for impact. "What I didn't know was how handsome he is." She raises an eyebrow at me, her eyes filled with mischief.
My cheeks heat up. To say I'm embarrassed is an understatement.
I let out a nervous laugh. "Well, yes, he's good-looking," I admit, unable to deny the truth.
"But you know, beauty isn't everything," I add quickly.
Everything was happening faster than I'd anticipated.
Tristan and I have never discussed the logistics of our coming out to family and friends.
"Of course not," Cynthia agrees, though I can tell she's enjoying my discomfort. "But it doesn't hurt, does it?" Her eyes never leaving mine.
"No, I suppose not," I concede, feeling more flustered than ever.
The room suddenly feels ten degrees warmer, and I'm acutely aware of the pounding in my chest. I'm not sure why I'm acting like this.
I negotiated million-dollar deals for professional athletes for years, and they were a cakewalk compared to this.
Why a 5-foot-nothing woman interrogating me makes me nervous completely baffles me.
"Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I think it's wonderful how close Nix has become with Tristan. It's obvious they have a special bond."
"They do." I'm both relieved and grateful my mother-in-law seems to be moving on from the topic of Tristan's attractiveness. "Tristan has been a great help to us, especially since Cara..." My voice falters, and I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions in check.
"Of course, dear," Cynthia says gently, reaching out to squeeze my hand again. "We all miss her so much. But I know she would be happy to see how well you're taking care of Nix, and how much he adores Tristan."
I'm touched by her kind words. But deep down, I can't help but wonder how her attitude might change if she knew everything. If she knew the truth about my feelings for Tristan, would she still be so understanding?
"Actually, Myles, I've observed a few things," Cynthia says, leaning in closer and lowering her voice. "And this might surprise you."
"Okay." I gulp, trying to keep my voice steady. "What are those things?"
"Tristan looks at you differently than he did George and me," she says matter-of-factly, her gaze never leaving mine. "He doesn't look at you like you're just a friend. He looks at you like... well, like he's in love with you."
My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and I stutter, tripping over my own words. "I… I don't… Wha—“
"Relax, Myles." Cynthia chuckles, patting my hand gently. "I didn't mean to fluster you. I just thought you should know."
Cynthia exchanges a knowing glance with George, and I feel my stomach drop out. Oh God, what now?
"What I do know for sure is..." Cynthia says, her voice gentle but firm, "You look at Tristan the same way he looks at you."
My face feels like it's on fire, my heart pounding in my chest. I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
"Is it true, Myles?" Cynthia asks softly, her eyes searching mine for the truth. "Are you in love with him?"
My heart is in turmoil, wrestling with the conflicting emotions within me.
On one hand, I want to tell them the truth—that yes, I’m deeply in love with Tristan, who happens to be a man.
On the other hand, how could I admit such a thing to my late wife's parents?
They've always been supportive and loving towards me, even though things have become a little strained between us since Cara’s passing.
"Cynthia, George..." I stammer, hesitating. In my mind, an angel perches on one shoulder, urging me to be honest. A devil sits on the other, whispering that it's better to keep quiet. Caught between the two, I take a deep breath and make my decision. "Yes... yes, I'm in love with Tristan."
Oh fugg!
I just came out for the first time… to my in-laws. What?!
There's a moment of silence as they digest my confession. I brace myself for their reaction, fearing the worst.
"George’s brows furrow, a myriad of emotions in his gaze: confusion, sadness… and resignation. "You were in love with our daughter."
"That’s true," I say, trying to find the right words.
"I've loved your daughter for most of my life, and I'll always love her.
I'd taken our wedding vows seriously and would’ve never reneged on my promise to Cara.
I was completely faithful and had every intention of spending the rest of my life with her.
" I slowly inhale a deep breath and then release it with a gush.
“And then... and then she died." My own parents had died in a car accident when I was eighteen, a few months before I'd met Cara.
Whether they know it or not, in my mind, George and Cynthia are like parents to me.
No way did I ever think I'd be having this conversation with them.
I shake myself out of those thoughts and continue, "I'd never thought of another man in a romantic sense before, so this thing between Tristan and me came as a complete surprise. But at the grand young age of forty-two, I’ve learned something new about myself: I'm bisexual. "
Cynthia and George exchange glances, weighing my words. I can see the struggle in their eyes, the love they still hold for their daughter warring with their desire to see me happy. For a moment, the room is thick with tension, and then it's broken by Cynthia's soft voice.
"And we still love you just as much as we did a moment ago," Cynthia says, her eyes full of kindness. "We only want you to be happy, Myles. And if that happiness lies with Tristan, then we will support you."
"That's the thing about love," George says. "It works in mysterious ways."
Their words bring tears to my eyes, my heart swelling with gratitude. "George, Cynthia," I say, looking at one, then the other. "You may not fully understand, but your unwavering love and support means so much to me. Thank you," I whisper.
Cynthia and George exchange another look, a mixture of sadness and acceptance in their eyes. The room is charged with emotions.
My mother-in-law steps forward first, wrapping her arms around me in a warm embrace. "We're truly happy for you, Myles," she says, her voice cracking slightly. I squeeze her tightly, grateful for her understanding.
George follows suit, his strong arms enveloping me in a fatherly hug.
His tears fall onto my shoulder as he speaks.
"Cara was everything I'd ever wanted in a daughter.
She was one of the best things in my life," he admits, his voice choked with emotion.
I feel a tear slide down my cheek as well, the weight of his words heavy on my heart.
"But," George continues, his grip tightening, "I know our Cara would want you to be happy.
And if your happiness lies with Tristan, then I approve, too.
We both do. Not that you need our approval, but you have it nonetheless.
" He pulls back, meeting my gaze with determination.
"Plus, we trust Nix. If our grandson likes Tristan, then so do we. "
A small, grateful smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Their support means the world to me, more than words can express. The thought of losing them had terrified me, but now, with their love and approval, I feel like I can face anything.
"Thank you," I say again, my voice stronger this time. "From the bottom of my heart, thank you."
"Of course, son," George replies, his voice thick with emotion. "You deserve all the happiness and love in the world."
"Remember," Cynthia chimes in, wiping a tear from her eye, "we're always here for you, no matter who you love."
I nod, gratitude filling my chest. With their acceptance, I feel like I can finally allow myself to love Tristan fully and without reservations. For the first time in a long while, hope blooms in my heart, and I embrace it wholly.
"Seeing you love someone who isn't our Cara will be hard," Cynthia admits, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It will be an adjustment, but we'll continue to love you, Myles… just like we always have."
Her words wrap around me like a warm embrace, and I am incredibly grateful for their understanding. They've been my rock ever since I was a teenager, without parents or a sense of direction, and now they're continuing to be there for me as I navigate this new chapter of my life.
"Thank you," I whisper, my throat tight with emotion. "You both mean the world to me."
"Darling," Cynthia says, giving me a watery smile, "you're the son we didn't give birth to. You were there for our daughter, and you helped create and raise our precious grandson. How could we not love and support you?"
I let out a shaky laugh, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I don't know what I'd do without you two."
"Hopefully, you'll never have to find out," George chimes in, offering me a comforting pat on the back.
"Speaking of Nix," Cynthia says, a knowing glint in her eye, "you and Tristan need to have a talk with him about your relationship."
"Y-yeah," I stutter, my face flushing at the thought of explaining to my son that his father is dating another man. "We... We'll talk to him soon."
"Good," she replies, nodding her approval. "Nix deserves to know, and I'm sure he'll be happy for the both of you."
"We'll be here rooting for you." George's eyes are watery.
"Of course, we'll do anything for our family." A soft smile lights up Cynthia's face.
"Even if that family includes an unemployed single father who recently learned he's bisexual? Oh, and who sometimes burns the lasagna?" I tease, lightening the mood.
"Especially then." George laughs, and Cynthia and I join him, the sound filling the room like a chorus.
I watch Cynthia and George leave, as we part ways after saying our goodbyes, feeling lighter than I have in a long time. They've given me their blessing, and now it's time for Tristan and me to share our love with Nix.