Chapter Twenty
Terra
A knock at the door startled me. No one came to our house without announcing it first, and having someone do so seemed out of place. I tiptoed to the door, all the while fearful that the police would be standing on the other side.
With slight reluctance, I peered through the peephole. Shocked, and pleasantly surprised, I grinned at the sight of my brother Peter standing on the front porch.
I unlocked the door and pulled it open. “What are you doing?”
He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He met my gaze and gave a slight smile. “Have you got a minute?”
“Sure. What’s wrong?”
He gave me a dismissive look. “Nothing.”
Something was. I could sense it. I waved toward the living room and stepped aside. “Come in.”
He followed me into the house and flopped down on the couch. “Do you have anything to drink?”
“I have a lot of things to drink. What do you want?”
“Wine?”
“I have sangria. It’s really good. Want some?”
His tired eyes searched the room. “Sure.”
I poured each of us a glass, and carried them to the couch. “Here. So what’s going on?”
He took a drink, and then another. His suit was covered in wrinkles, and it looked like he’d been sleeping in it. I wondered where he’d been, and remembered my mother saying he’d been absent since my father’s incarceration.
“Can I talk to you?” He looked at me. “Like, talk to you without judgment?”
Something was going on. I wanted him to know he could tell me anything. I took his hand, hoping the gesture would offer enough reassurance that he’d tell me whatever he felt he needed to.
“Sure,” I said. “Anything you want. It’ll remain between us.”
His eyes looked uncertain. “Promise?”
I squeezed his hand. “Promise.”
He took another drink, inhaled a deep breath, and then let out a heavy sigh. With it came his revelation. “I’m gay.”
Oh, wow.
Still clutching his hand, I returned a shallow stare. Not one of disbelief, but of relief. I’d wondered on and off if he was gay, but always dismissed my thoughts for one reason or another. His admittance of it was trusting and courageous.
“I’ve wondered,” I said flatly.
He cocked an eyebrow and looked me up and down. “Really?”
I took a drink. “Uh-huh. I mean. Yeah. Over the years.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, and then let out a laugh. “Maybe because you’re gay? I could just... I don’t know. Tell?”
He laughed out loud, and halfway through his fit of laughter, I joined him. It was something that I hadn’t done in months, and it came easy, at least now that my family was back to normal.
Wine shot out of my nose and dripped on my shirt.
I set my wine aside. “Crap!”
“What?”
I stood up. “Wine shot out of my nose.”
“It feels good to laugh,” he said.
“I was just thinking that.” I walked toward the bedroom. “Give me a second. I need to change.”
While I looked for something to change into, the reality of Peter being gay sank in a little. I wondered what my mother would say, and then, how my father would react. I’d like to think they’d both accept him wholly, regardless of his sexual orientation, but it wasn’t something I felt certain about.
The church’s opinion on homosexuality was odd. Their belief was that homosexuals should never be discriminated against, nor should they be treated any differently from heterosexuals, because homosexuality wasn’t a choice that the person made.
Sexual acts were prohibited, because the Catholic Church didn’t recognize gay marriages. In their eyes, a gay couple having sex was the same as an unwed couple having sex.
I considered what my mother said about her and my father having sex before they were married, and decided I would gently remind her of this if she opposed Peter being gay.
I came from the room eager to talk more about it.
“When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” I asked.
He let out a laugh. “I’m not.”
I sat down. “Why’d you tell me?”
“I had to tell someone. We had a fight. It’s over.”
I was confused. “What’s over?”
“My relationship with Joey.”
He was obviously distraught, but I didn’t immediately feel sorry for him. Maybe because I had no idea that he was in a relationship, it wasn’t natural for me to feel sorrow for his loss.
“What happened?”
He shrugged, and then took a sip of wine. “We got in an argument about things. Mostly about Dad. And then, that was it.”
“What about Dad?”
“Well, we’ve been together 24-7 since Dad went to jail. I said if he ever got out, which I was sure he wouldn’t, that I’d come out.” He looked at me. “You know, tell everyone. But then he got out, and I couldn’t do it.”
“You still can,” I said. “I mean, you can now.”
He shook his head. “It’s too late. He’s right. I either need to tell Mom and Dad, or go see a psychiatrist and figure out why I can’t talk to them.”
“You don’t need a psychiatrist to tell you why. I’m sure every gay man on the planet feels the same way you do.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Which is?”
“Scared. Lonely. Uncertain. Unloved. Ashamed. I don’t know, maybe even unholy,” I said. “Am I close?”
He set his wine on the end table and stood. “I love you.”
I stood and gave him a hug. “I love you, too.”
After holding each other for a long period, he broke the embrace.
“What do you think they’ll say?” he asked.
It wasn’t a question I could come close to answering. My knee-jerk reaction was that my father would throw a fit. I had nothing to support my belief, but my guess was that if anyone was a homophobe, he was.
My mother, on the other hand, was an understanding and rather openminded woman.
But.
She was my father’s subservient wife.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“They’ll die.”
“They won’t die.”
“Remember how you felt when you hadn’t told them, either of them, about Michael?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Imagine living your entire life like that. Times ten. Not admitting that you loved someone, and not admitting who you even were. Lying to everyone. Knowing if you told the truth, that you’d be rejected. The lie you told Michael, and the truth that you weren’t sharing with Mom and Dad, all rolled into one big ball.”
I couldn’t imagine it. I mean, I could, but I didn’t want to.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really am.”
“What am I going to do?”
I thought about it for a moment, and then shot him an innocent look. “Can I tell Michael?”
“Excuse me?”
“Can I tell Michael? So, I can ask his opinion?”
“He’s another one,” he said. “He’s going to go crazy with it. No.”
I took exception to his remark, and shot him a shitty glare. “What do you mean?”
“Are you telling me he’ll accept me? If I’m gay?”
“There’s not an if,” I said with a laugh. “You are gay. And, yes. I can guarantee it.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Seriously?”
“If anyone looks at people with an open mind, and doesn’t judge, it’s Michael.”
“You’re sure?”
I nodded eagerly. “Positive.”
“It’d be nice to have him on my team. You know, in my corner or whatever.”
“So, can I tell him?”
“I guess so. But, make him promise to keep it between you two. I’d like to see what his thoughts are. You know, what he thinks about how Dad will react.”
I recalled how I felt throughout the ordeal with Michael, and the lies. My stomach knotted, and I felt sick almost immediately. I wanted to do whatever I could to help Peter live a life without hiding his sexual orientation.
“I’ll talk to him, and then maybe we can all talk. How’s that?”
“I’d like that.” He smiled a faint smile. “I just hope you’re right about him.”
I smiled in return and gave him a hug. “I am.”