Becoming Brett

41. Words Hurt

All I can think about is James. Well that's not entirely true. I also can't stop thinking about Wes and what he said. How even though he might have lost Laurel, he'd do it all again.

I wish I had the confidence that everyone else seems to possess around me.

My dad sits at the head of the dining table, saying a blessing over our food even though I can't remember the last time we went to church.

He's been talking to my mom about this guy from his work, their daughter apparently came out, announcing she's bisexual and has a girlfriend. Both my parents tsk the idea, the very thought that two people of the same gender could love one another preposterous.

It makes my stomach roll and a sweat break out along my hairline. All I can hear is James telling me to come out in my head.

"Today's youth is so misguided." My mom says sadly.

I'm misguided.

"I feel for the guy, ya know? He's a good man, works hard, provides for his family." My dad shakes his head, his dark hair cut short and immaculate like it's always been. His military cut still the go to. "How could his daughter hurt him like that?"

I feel like I'm suffocating, like someone's got their hands around my neck, severing my airwaves. Panic rises up within me, my mind screaming so loud I can't hear what they say next. Though I'm not sure I want to know.

The ground has slipped out from underneath my feet, my world falling off its axis as memories play out in my head. Memories that I know m will be thrown away if they know the truth.

But I'm not sure I can keep going like this. Pretending I'm not everything they disapprove of. Lying to everyone. To James.

"Brett?" My mom says my name, reaching for my hand across the table.

Her fingers wrap around my wrist gently, motherly and I stare at them. Her long graceful fingers that have taught me countless instruments, that have comforted me and cared for me.

"Are you okay?" She asks and it's then I realize I have both their attention, my fork gripped tight in my other hand.

I'm not okay. I'm gay.

I'm gay.

I'm gay.

I'm gay.

"I'm gay." The words leave my lips, cracked and broken and terrified but I've said them now.

They're out there. Laid out on our dining room table with no chance to take them back as my mom's hand retracts from my wrist taking with it all of the motherly love that it carried.

"What?" My dad asks.

I can't look up. Still stuck on the spot where my mom's hand was. The warmth of her skin against mine lingering, reminding me of everything I'm about to lose.

What have I just done?

Oh god.

"Brett?" My dad coaxes, his voice devoid of every emotion.