Page 23 of Betting Brett

"Anytime," he replies, his voice filled with warmth. "I'll see you soon."

With renewed determination, I start the car, ready to face whatever comes my way. The drive to my parents' house is a short one, but it feels like an eternity. Each turn of the road, each familiar landmark, brings back a flood of memories. The large oak tree where I used to climb as a kid, the small pond where I'd go fishing with my dad, and finally, the white picket fence that surrounds the property I grew up on. The house itself is a large, two-story colonial with blue shutters and a wraparound porch. It's the kind of house that looks like it belongs on a postcard, with manicured lawns and flower beds bursting with color. But as I pull into the driveway, the beauty of the exterior does little to settle the unease brewing inside me.

Taking another deep breath, I step out of the car, my boots crunching on the gravel. The front door opens, and there stands my mother, Darlene. She's a tall, elegant woman with a sharp nose and even sharper eyes. Her graying hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she wears a floral dress that looks like it's been pulled straight out of the '80s.

"Hello, Brett," she says, her voice cool and distant.

"Hey, Mom," I reply, trying to keep my voice neutral. “I need to speak with you and Dad about something.”

"I need to talk to you too," Darlene says, her gaze scrutinizing. "I saw Isabelle in town after school yesterday. She told me that Andy is over at your house all the time."

Damn. It’s already started. I was expecting it, but not right off the bat like this.

I stiffen, my grip on the car keys tightening. "Andy's a good man, Mom. Izzy likes him, and so do I. He’s been my best friend since high school. He’s one of the most important people in my life."

Darlene's lips curl into a sneer. "Of course, Izzy likes him. He's filling her head with all sorts of nonsense. It's not natural, the way he is. And I won't have my granddaughter exposed to that."

Anger flares up inside me, hot and fierce. "What do you mean, 'the way he is'? Andy is one of the kindest, most genuine people I know. And he cares about Izzy. He's been there for her in ways you can't even begin to understand. If that’s a bad influence for my daughter, then I don’t know what you’d consider a good one."

Before Darlene can retort, my father steps out of the house. He's a stark contrast to my mother, with a gentle face and even gentler eyes. He looks at my mother, a flash of anxiety lighting up his features. "Brett," he says, waving hello.

"Dad," I reply, my greeting strained. "Can you stay for a moment? I need to speak with you and Mom about something.” I instinctively soften my words talking to my father. He’s never been the confrontational kind.

He seems to sense the tension in the air and nods. "Of course, Brett. What’s going on?”

I turn back to include my mother, my jaw set.

"Listen, Mom, I won't have you talking about Andy like that, especially not in front of Isabelle. He's a part of our lives now, and you need to respect that. Isabelle hasn’t come out here because of the things that you said last time we talked about this." Darlene's eyes flash with anger, but before she can say anything, I continue, "And there's something else you need to know. I'm bisexual. Andy and I are together. If I have anything to say about it, we’ll be together for the rest of our lives. If you can't accept that and treat Andy with respect, then Isabelle and I are going to have to keep our distance."

There. Like a band-aid, ripped right off. Exposing the wound to cold, sharp air. Making myself more vulnerable than I ever had. The silence that follows is deafening. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I've taken control of my life. And no matter what comes next, I know I've made the right choice.

My father just looks thoughtful and a little scared, but Darlene's face goes through a series of emotions: shock, disbelief, and then a hardening of her features. "You're what?" she hisses, her voice dripping with disdain.

"I'm bisexual, Mom," I say, refusing to let her reaction shake me. "And I'mwithAndy. He's good for me, and he's good for Isabelle. I won't accept anyone, not even you, speaking ill of him. Especially not in front of my daughter. She’s innocent, and I plan on keeping her that way."

She takes a step back, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. Our family doesn't... we don't do things like that. Innocent?! You’re committing one of the biggest sins known to man."

I take in a breath, trying to keep my temper in check. "Love is love, Mom. It doesn't matter if it's between a man and a woman, two men, or two women. What matters is the connection, the understanding, and the happiness it brings. How can loving someone be considered a sin? That’s one of the purest forms of expression and connection around."

Her face flushes blood red, matching the flowers on her dress. She shakes her head, her lips pressed into a razor-thin line. "I raised you better than this. You're just confused. It's that Andy, he's put these ideas in your head."

"No, Mom," I say, my voice firm. "This is who I've always been. Andy just helped me see it and accept it. And I won't let you or anyone else make me feel ashamed of it."

There's a long pause. I watch my mother’s face settle into hard, unforgiving lines. Finally, she speaks, her voice cold. "If you choose this path, you're choosing to walk away from this family. And there will be consequences for that choice."

"If that's how you feel, then maybe it's for the best. Isabelle deserves to grow up in an environment where she's taught love and acceptance, not prejudice."

My father speaks, his expression still troubled. "Brett," he says, his voice gentle. "Maybe it's best if you leave for now. Let things cool down."

I nod, feeling a lump in my throat. "You're right, Dad. I'll call you later."

As I walk away, I can feel Darlene's eyes throwing daggers at my back, but I refuse to look back. I know I've made the right decision, not just for me, but for Isabelle too.

When I pull up to our house, Andy is waiting on the porch, a look of concern on his face. He rushes over as I get out of the car, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Are you okay?" he asks, sounding worried.

I nod, burying my face in his shoulder. "I am now," I whisper.

We stand there for a moment, holding onto each other, drawing strength from our bond, then turn and go into the house to make dinner for Isabelle. In that moment, I know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, we'll face them together.

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