Page 8 of Submit
Larry shrugged. “You’d think, twenty-two years later, I’d be over it. The conversion camp, the beatings, the—”
“What?” Hank squawked. “You were in one of those awful camps?”
“That’s how I got my money,” Larry explained.“They—Mr. Redd, the guy who ran it—beat my roommate to death. Beat the gay out of him, that’s what Mr. Redd said he was doing.”
Hank gasped and covered his mouth with one hand.
“After the trial, Mr. Redd was given a few years’ sentence, but I sued when I was eighteen. Sued the center, because it was still open, sued the church my parents went to, made me go to, for sending me there.”I shouldhave been ashamed. “No. No. I’m not ashamed of suing them.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Hank said. “God, I hate people sometimes.”
Larry laughed, his first real laugh in days. “Yeah, me, too, but not everyone. Just the assholes.”
“No kidding. Are you okay, Larry?” Hank touched Larry’s cheek.
“I’m going to be.” He sighed. “My dad died. That’s why I was gone so long. Mom died years ago, still tellingme I was going to hell. Dad was in a nursing home the past three years. He had a bad stroke, and I went there. I couldn’t leave him to die alone.”
“Even after what he did to you,” Hank mused. “Did he ever accept you?”
Larry’s chest ached. “No. No, he didn’t. He hadn’t spoken to me in years, actually. I’d go back when I had to. If he or Mom had made out a will of some sorts to make sure I couldn’thandle their medical decisions, I’d have stayed here. But I was their only child and they never did prepare for their deaths. So I… I took care of them as best I could. I still loved them, even if they didn’t care about me. I didn’t like them, but I loved them.”
“Oh, honey,” Hank said, then Larry was being pulled into another hug, and this time, he wrapped his arms around his friend and returnedthe embrace.
