Page 94 of Cheater and the Saint
“Don’t be a smartass,” Dad responded, narrowing his eyes. “It’s Thanksgiving. You should stop with that smart mouth and start being thankful for the people who brought your sorry hide into this world.”
“Thankful? You want me to be thankful?”
“Leo, don’t,” Heath said, grabbing onto my arm.
Even though I’d been nervous for days and had been on edge all morning, I’d still—foolishly—hoped things would’ve been different. From what Heath had said about Mom calling him, she’d wanted her sons to come home for the holiday, and our dad had wanted the same. I hadn’t expected a huge, sappy family reunion or anything, but I’d expected more than this. That was for damn sure.
“No, son,” Dad said to Heath before moving his stare back to me. “Let him speak.”
It hurt that he called Heathson, but not me. Damn it all, it hurt bad, like a fucking ice pick to the heart. I knew better than to let it bother me, but Dad still had that power over me. I’d respected him so much as I was growing up, and I’d only ever wanted his approval.
The day I realized I liked boys as much as girls was the day I knew I’d never get it.
“Why did you want me here?” I asked, clenching my fists. “Neither of you seem happy to see me, so I’m clearly not welcome.”
“Damn right you’re not,” Dad exclaimed before going into a coughing fit. “It was all your mother’s idea. I told her I didn’t want ya in my house, and she called ya anyway.” Even while sick and dying of cancer, Dad still managed to make me feel two inches tall. “She has it in her head that I need to make things right with God and my family before I leave this world. But you,” he pointed a shaking finger at me, “you are a disgrace to my name, and you willneverbe welcome in this house as long as I’m still breathing. Ya hear?”
My eyes stung.
“Let’s all sit at the table and talk,” Mom suggested, still holding that damn cross necklace between her forefinger and thumb. “Enough of this arguing.”
I wanted to lash out at him—wanted to spout off something sarcastic or equally hateful, just to spite him. But as I stood there, seeing the disgust in his eyes as he glowered at me, the fight left me. All of the things I’d imagined myself saying to him over the years disappeared.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I asked as my vision blurred.
“You still rolling around with boys?” Dad snarled. “If so, there’s your answer.”
“I can’t control who I fall for,” I said, stepping closer to him. “I was born this way. I didn’t choose it.”
He scoffed. “No, you were born normal. You used to like girls, but something changed. Sin steered you down the wrong path, and you will face the fires of hell for those sins, too, boy.”
“Don’t say that to him, Dad,” Heath said, walking up beside me.
“You stay out of this,” Dad snapped at him before shifting his eyes back to me. His face was pale, and his breathing was ragged, but he still looked just as mean as always. “Listen here. If I had my strength, I’d grab you up by your nape and throw you in one of those camps for faggots. To wash away your sin and make you normal. If you had any self-respect, you’d go there yourself, but you’ve always been stubborn and vile.”
“Those camps are bullshit,” I said. “Being gay or bisexual is not a choice. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Man shallnotlie with man, Leonardo. You’ve chosen this life of sin, and you will burn for it someday. I wish I could save you from the flames, but I fear it’s too late now. You and all of those abominations like you will feel the wrath of God.”
Suddenly, the anger lifted from me, and as it did, I felt lighter. Instead of further upsetting me, I found a kind of peace I’d never felt before. Nothing I said would change his mind about me. That was certain.
Yet, the wayIviewed myself had changed.
The internal shame was gone. Shame for being bi had weighed me down for so long, because I’d still held onto that anger and hurt from when Dad kicked me out seven years ago. I’d heard his voice in my head telling me how wrong it was for me to like men, and even though I’d known he was full of shit, a part of me had believed it.
I didn’t believe it anymore.
There was nothing wrong about the way I felt about Saint. When I held him and kissed his lips, my heart soared. When I heard his adorable laugh, I grinned, too. And that shy look in his eyes when I told him he was beautiful? Nothing else made my heart ache as much, as if it was so full of happiness it could burst. There was nothing sinful about my love for him.
It took me falling in love to finally realize that. To fully accept it.
“You’re wrong,” I said, taking a step backward. “I’m not religious like you, but if thereisa God, I’d like to think he wouldn’t damn someone because of that. Nothing I say will change your mind, but that doesn’t matter to me. Not anymore.” Despite the hurt in my chest, I smiled. “I want you to know that I’m happy, Dad. I found someone who loves me, flaws and all, and he makes me a better man. If my soul is damned because I love him, then so be it. Let me burn.”
“You disgust me,” Dad said, crinkling his nose. “Get out of my house.”
“Gladly.”
Without so much as a glance to my mom, I turned and left the room.
