Page 39 of Betting Brett

I want to believe Paul’s words, but the pain is too raw, the wound too fresh. Plus, I know my mother, and I’ve never seen her back down from anything in her life.

“We’re not going to let her win, Brett,” Andy tells the group. He’s sitting with his back ramrod straight, his chin jutting out with determination. “We’ve got rights and the law on our side. And we’ve got each other.”

“It’ll be ok,” I tell them, feeling it in my bones.

“When’s the court date?” Paul asks.

“Tomorrow at 10,” I say, and the lump of anxiety is back in my throat. “Jen’s fully prepared, and I’ve got confidence in her. I just hate that we’re going through this. Also, Izzy definitely doesn’t need to be there, but the school is having an in-service day. Can she hang out with you two while we deal with this?”

“Not a problem, Brett.” Sam cocks his head and cracks a smile. “We’ll have fun. We were going to come give moral support, but we’ll be happy to keep an eye on Izzy.”

“Alright, enough heavy shit,” I say, leaning back in my chair. It was an effort for me to switch topics, but I felt like I had to. There’d be no solving it right now, and I didn’t want to keep this cloud hovering over us any longer. “What about the Pride Parade you were setting up, Paul?”

It’s a welcome distraction, a reminder of the love and acceptance that still lives inside our community, regardless of the hate trying to poison it.

“So far, so good,” Paul says. “Got approval from the mayor and set up the route. Now I’m working on getting floats and sponsors to sign up.”

“I’ve spoken to most of the guys at the department,” Sam tells us, his face cracking into a toothy smile. “They’re on board, Brett. The Sheriff’s Department is going to have its own float. This town is changing. And we’re not going to let anyone stand in the way of progress.”

That lifts my spirits. It’s good to know the entire world isn’t going to shit. “I want to join the float,” I say, taking a sip of my hazelnut coffee. “Can Andy come?”

“Of course, I’ll make sure you’re both on the list.”

“Perfect,” I say. My mood is better, although there’s still an undercurrent of anxiety every time I think about what’s happening less than twenty-four hours from now. As the coffee cups empty and the conversation flows, I have an overwhelming feeling of gratitude when I look around and see the support group around me.

“So, we’re thinking of having it next month,” Sam says, his eyes alight with excitement. “We’ve got a lot of support from the town, and it’s about time Shafter Falls had its own Pride.”

I can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. Despite the shitstorm hanging over us, the prospect of the town’s first Pride parade is exciting. And a way to show my own mother that being different wasn’t a sin.

“That sounds amazing, Sam,” Andy says, his eyes reflecting the excitement in Sam’s. “Shafter Falls definitely has come a long way since when we were kids.”

“We’re thinking of a theme for the parade,” Sam continues, his gaze shifting between Andy and me. “Any ideas?”

Andy grins, the playful light returning to his eyes. “How about ‘Love is Love’?” he suggests. “Simple, but powerful.”

“I like that,” Paul nods appreciatively. “It’s a message that resonates, especially in times like these.”

We delve into the plans for the parade, the excitement, and the anticipation building. Ideas are exchanged, laughter is shared, and for a moment, the looming court date fades into the background. We’re united by a common purpose, a shared vision of a community defined by love and acceptance.

Another hour or so passes before the guys end up saying goodbye, having errands to run for the rest of the day. As Sam and Paul rise to leave, the weight of the upcoming court date presses heavily upon me. The walls I’ve built to keep the panic at bay begin to crumble, the enormity of the situation crashing down. I give them both a hug, and they tell me it’s all going to be okay, but all I can think of is not being able to see my little girl anymore. Yes, the chances were on our side, but the fact that there was even the slightest possibility someone could take her away from me scared the fuck out of me. What if the judge is homophobic? What if they decide to ignore the evidence and rip my daughter away from me, calling me unfit, all because of what? Because of whom I shared a bed with?

The room starts to spin. I feel lightheaded. My hands are clammy, and my breathing becomes shallow.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I confess to Andy, who’s still sitting next to me, my voice trembling, the carefree façade giving way to the raw, unfiltered fear coursing through me. “All because I’m bi. It’s like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

Andy’s hand finds mine again. “Brett, look at me,” he says, his eyes holding mine with an unyielding intensity. “We’re going to get through this. You and me. Together. And Jen, of course,” he adds. “She’s a force to be reckoned with. We’re not alone in this, Brett.”

I nod, letting Andy’s words sink in, letting them wrap around me like a protective shield.

Except it’s not enough. I keep picturing Izzy being pulled away from me, hearing her cry out, “Daddy! Daddy! Don’t let them take me!”. It’s chilling. The walls feel tighter, matching the feeling in my lungs. It’s becoming harder to take in a full breath. I rub at the back of my neck and shut my eyes, but when I open them again, the world is still spinning.

I’m spiraling, the edges of my vision blurring as the terror takes hold. The laughter and lightness from moments ago with Sam and Paul have disappeared, replaced by a cold, gnawing fear that claws at my insides.

“I need some air,” I stammer, the words barely escaping before I’m on my feet, the chair scraping loudly. Andy is right there, his eyes wide with concern, but I’m having a hard time focusing on him. Everything is too loud, too bright, too much.

We step into fresh air, but it doesn’t help. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, each one a struggle. I’ve never felt like this before, so out of control, so powerless.

“Brett.” Andy’s voice is a life raft, but I’m drowning. His hand is on my shoulder, grounding me, but the terror is a tidal wave, crashing over me, pulling me under.

---