Page 111 of Forever Yours

Going from distraught to unrepentant, Mom popped her hands on her hips and scowled. For the first time, I saw her age. The pinched lines that etched her face. I had this image in my head of what Mom looked like. The her she used to be when I was a kid when she would play with me and read me bedtime stories. The mom she was before I spoke those two words that changed everything: I’m gay. That woman didn’t exist anymore. Hadn’t for a very long time.

“Justin is a very nice man. Brad adores him.”

“Justin,” I sneered, “is the guy who beat me up.”

“What is he talking about, Beverly?”

Mom took two steps toward me. “Stop this, right now.”

“He beat you up?” Brad asked, clearly confused.

Not looking at him, I faced Mom. “He ambushed me at a restaurant.” I touched every place that bore the bruises from his attack as I enunciated each one. “He punched me here. Kicked me here. Slammed my head against the floor until my skull cracked.” I palmed the side of my head.

Mom’s head shook wildly from side to side. “Stop it! You’re lying.”

“I’m proud of who I am. I’m in love with a wonderful man who I plan to marry one day and start a family with. Your grandchildren, who will one day ask me about you. What should I tell them?”

For the first time in my memory, I saw tears in my mother’s eyes.

I grabbed my bags and headed to the door, not wanting to be near her for a single second longer. I had my say, and I was done.

“You don’t have to worry anymore. You may not want to be a mother to a gay son, but I don’t want a mother who is a bigoted homophobic bitch.”

With those parting words, I pushed past Brad, their arguing following me down the stairs where April was waiting.

“That doesn’t sound good,” she commented when Brad and Mom’s raised voices filtered down from the bedroom. She waggled the key fob to the car at me. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Not before I settled one last score.

“Dining room?”

April pointed to the left. I placed my bags next to the front door.

“I’ll meet you outside,” I told her.

“Nope. I said I’d have your back, and I meant it. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss what I think you’re about to do.”

I stopped her from following me. “Just please wait for me at the car.”

The shouting from upstairs grew louder.

“Fine.”

I waited until I was sure she wouldn’t turn around and sneak back in. Walking past the den and living room, I heard Justin’s voice coming from the kitchen. I would recognize his voice anywhere. It had haunted my dreams for weeks.

“…you better. You’re not making me a scapegoat for Fallon Montgomery to come after. The guy already broke my nose and got me kicked out of—”

Justin looked up when I came in. He immediately hung up on whoever he was talking to. But I knew who it was.

“I don’t want any trouble.” His eyes wildly darted around like he was trying to find the easiest exit.

“Too bad,” I replied, letting the red-hot rage I was feeling drive my impulses.

Justin skirted around the counter island, putting it as a barrier between us.

The kitchen was nice. White-washed brick, quartz countertops, and a pop of slate-blue color along the mosaic backsplash tiles.

He darted to the right, but I was quick to counter and block him.

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