Page 6 of Actions and Reactions
“If I can be honest,” I admit. “I’d probably react differently if the same tragedy happened today, but I won’t diminish the way I felt then by calling that love childish.”
It wasn’t.
It was elemental, it was inevitable... it still haunts me.
“All right,” he mutters, still not looking at me. But I see him take a deep breath and squeeze his eyes shut tightly.
I clench my fists on the armrests and force myself to give him time to work through whatever’s happening. We have hours here, after all.
“I’m sorry for how I reacted too,” he says at last, speaking through gritted teeth.
There are so many things I could say to that.You were just a kid who believed he’d lost everything. You were heartbroken, you were furious, you were breaking inside.
But I don’t say any of those things.
Even though they’re true.
“Thank you,” I say instead and nod. I open my mouth to say something else, not really knowing what since I’m winging this whole thing, but he beats me to it.
“I’m gay,” he blurts out loudly.
The shock freezes my lungs but speeds up my heartbeat.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Now I really don’t know what to say next.
“No one knows.” He leans in, sounding frantic now, and his eyes are like harsh lasers pointed straight at me. I see the insecurity and fear in them. I recognize it like I know the road leading to my childhood home, and for some reason, just that closes the hole in my heart a little bit.
He’s still the same, I think, with a kind of relief I’ve never known before.
Is the fear there because he thinks I’m going to say something cruel like he did? Does he think we’re in any way in a situation where that would be excusable?
We’re not.
But I still don’t know what to say.
“Uhm,” I stall. I used to be able to tell Silas every ridiculous thought that passed through my head, and now I can’t even figure out if I should ask something or just reassure him...
Instinct and years of conditioning that my brain hasn’t forgotten take over.
“Why?” I ask with a straight face, no emotion except what I can’t help but show through my eyes.
His shoulders drop and his face relaxes, and even though it lasts less than a second, his lips curve upwards.
For the first fifteen years of my life, that was what I asked every time Silas said anything I disagreed with.
And he used to do the same.
According to our mothers it started when we were threeand, like every other kid in the world, began to question everything.
We would ask everyone about everything, and eventually, we only asked each other.
“Why am I gay or why haven’t I told anyone?” he asks back.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” I deadpan. This time he actually chuckles.
It sounds just the same as it always has.
