Following him back into the bedroom, she only laughed when he pulled off the shirt she had tried to wear to bed, and loved the way he pulled her into his arms, as if it was something he did every night. “Seattle... that does sound like a long way away from Chicago.”
“Yeah, Jim’s almost five years older, and he said he wanted to get as far away from Mom and Dad as he could. He didn’t apply to a single college in Indy.”
“Was their marriage that bad?”
A heavy sigh escaped him as he turned off the light and then wrapped the blankets around them. “It was just so tense all the time. Friction every time they came into contact. We all had to sit down to dinner once a week on Sunday, and it was hell. They were just so quick to bicker. I was relieved that Dad spent all his time at work. He did home sales and was usually out of the house.”
“Do you know why they were like that?”
“Jim is positive that Mom cheated on Dad, and Dad decided turnabout was fair play. The sad thing is I think they still loved or cared about each other, but couldn’t let it go. I came to Chicago for school, and not two weeks later they announced they were divorcing—but it was five years of them in and out of court and mediations before it was final. They were relentless about each other. Every month her alimony check was late until she called four or five times. He was still in and out of the house even though she was given it in the divorce, and then she found out she had breast cancer. Dad wasn’t the same after that. I’m just glad it was quick for the both of them. He was there every day, taking her to the doctor and chemo, and then, only nine months in, she was gone.”
“I’m sorry, Paul.” The words sounded small in the dark.
“Yeah, it wasn’t easy, but just a year later Dad was dead too. Doctors said heart failure. I think he was lost without her.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Don’t cry. Jim and I were relieved when it was over. Sure, we missed them, but it was always more about them than us. My mom was always there but not, always wondering where my dad was and who he was with.
“Anyway, I wondered—you never mention your parents except that first day. You sounded a little bitter about your mom. Do you two not speak?”
“Did I? Probably, doesn’t really surprise me. No, she died after I went into college. She committed suicide. I couldn’t believe it. That woman rammed religion and Bible verses down my throat on a daily basis, and then because I went off to college and she had done her duty by raising me to an adult, her job was complete.”
“Laura, fuck,” he said, exhaling.
“I know, that’s pretty much how I felt. I was so pissed off at her. Then I figured out that it was because she was a lesbian and I think she just couldn’t hide it anymore. Maybe she felt like that was more of a sin or something. I’m not positive, but the way she went on and on about sex being a sin and not to be enjoyed and how it was for procreation only... When my dad died, when I was twelve, she didn’t seem sad at all, just relieved. They had separate bedrooms—well, actually, she slept in the guest bedroom on the few nights he was there.”
“Your dad died when you were twelve?”
“Yes, but not to sound cold, I didn’t really miss him. He was a pilot and he was never there. There weren’t any father and daughter moments when he was. He was always in his recliner drinking. When he was away there were times I actually forgot what he looked like. When he died, my mom wiped the house clean. She let me keep a few pictures, but they had to stay in my room. I think he knew about her and was just as miserable as she was—and she was utterly miserable. This sounds crazy, but I don’t remember her ever smiling, not once.
“On and on she would say this or that was a duty, not for pleasure, nothing was ever to be done for fun. She homeschooled me to prevent me from being taught by heathens and those who weren’t Christian enough. When I was sixteen, I just couldn’t take it anymore. The day in and day out of being stuck with her... I had next to no friends because she didn’t want people in the house. I just went and enrolled in the local high school and told her I was going. That fight was probably the only time she ever raised her voice. Everything she did was quiet and contained, even when she was angry or sad. The only time she ever showed emotion was when her dad died, and she cried a little, but that was it.
“Her voice became this constant droning. Every day I went to school she went on and on about how men would only want me for sex and to use me and not to let them touch me. There was no chance of that—the clothes she made me wear were so awful that no one could figure out I had a body that they would want. Sure, I was pretty, but I was ignored because I was the weird homeschooled kid. Then, if that weren’t bad enough, she would just show up randomly to make sure I was in school. It was almost as bad as being at home with her all day. I graduated and managed to get in at DePaul even though I was so done with religion. She had force-fed me until I was nauseous, but she refused to pay for anything but a religious school.
“I gave in just to get away from her. She loaded me and a U-Haul up and drove me down to Chicago from Milwaukee. School started, she made sure I was settled in, and three months later she overdosed. Left a note, a will, everything was tied up in a bow, and I just couldn’t believe she did all of that. She even timed it over winter break, so I could take care of everything and go back to school without losing any time.
“It didn’t make sense until our neighbor came over. That poor woman was so broken up. There was something there between them. It wasn’t just her neighbor and friend dying. For some crazy reason, it all clicked then.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His hands ran through her hair.
“I wasn’t sorry. I was relieved, after I stopped being angry at her. She was a miserable woman. She couldn’t be who she wanted to be because of what her religion told her, so she made everyone else around her miserable. I think there was finally a release from that misery when she ended her life.”
“Does it matter to you that she was a lesbian?”
“No, I don’t think being gay is really a choice, and if it were, would someone really choose a harder life? Thankfully, people are evolving on the issue, but there are still prejudiced dicks out there. Being gay is still harder than being straight, and if it is a choice, so what? People choose to be assholes every day and no one hassles them.”
“I love that argument. That’s how my brother Jim felt.”
“Your brother’s gay?”
“Yeah, he tried to do the straight thing, bury it all. That’s how he got Cayce, but it just couldn’t go on. Thankfully, Cayce’s mom, Stacy, is a good woman, and she was amazing about it all. Their divorce was easy, visitation no problems. She even turned down a job in California because she didn’t want Cayce growing up without her dad.”
“So how did you feel about finding out your brother was gay?”
She felt him shrug. “I figured it out when I was a kid. Like I mentioned, he was five years older, and me being an annoying little brother kind of at a loss with parents more interested in themselves, I was his shadow. He wasn’t able to do much without me tagging along. I was embarrassed that he wasn’t like the other kids at first, but then it didn’t matter. When I was a kid I was really nerdy, into the fantasy and science fiction thing, so I was kind of embarrassing, I realized, and it didn’t bother him. So even then it was just a part of who he was, and I was just thankful to have him there. He never actually came out and said anything about it. Then when he got married in college it surprised me, and I thought, well, maybe I was wrong.”
“Did your parents ever say anything?”