Better Off

There was an insistent knocking on the front door of my condo, and it irritated me. I could hear it back in the home office, and since I was the only one at home, I guess I needed to answer it.

I opened the door to see my mother standing there. I had not seen this woman in several years, and certainly didn’t want to now. “What,” I barked, hoping she would get the hint, even though she never did. The Universe revolved around her and her only.

My parents had politely asked me to leave the house when I was sixteen, all for having the nerve to be homosexual. They certainly didn’t care that I was being bullied and beaten at school. They didn’t care about how I might feel, having been outed by a teacher. Nope. Pack your bags and go.

 I moved in with Granny and lived with her for a couple of years. I was a sophomore in college when Granny had a massive stroke. She did not survive it. In her will, she left the house and her investments to me. I didn’t know she had done that, but she wanted me to be taken care of since my parents weren’t willing to do so. This made Mom angry, and she actually hired a lawyer to try and contest the will. The lawyer advised her against it, and it was dropped.

I took in some roommates to help with expenses, and a couple of years later, graduated from college. Once I graduated, I decided to sell Granny’s place and buy a condo. I wanted to be downtown, and living in Granny’s house made me feel kind of sad and lost.

When I put Granny’s house on the market, Mom and Dad decided they would “forgive” me for the “sin” of being gay. I don’t know what they wanted. It was clear they didn’t accept me. First, Mom moaned about the fact that I wouldn’t be giving her any grandkids. Like she didn’t have two from my sister already!

My sister is a piece of work. My being gay didn’t bother her so much as the fact that I’m the wrong kind of gay man. I should be a hairdresser or interior designer or something like that. I’m an I.T. guy. I’ve actually been very successful.

Over the years, I’ve mostly ignored my family. I spoke to them from time to time, but kept it brief. I had made friends in college, and kept up with them. Some were straight and some were gay. They became my family. A drag queen I had met became almost a mother figure to me, and one of my older lesbian friends became an “auntie” of sorts. I started hosting monthly dinners for my friends, and they reciprocated.

One of my friends had some similar experiences with her family that I had with mine. I think hers were worse. She had depression issues, so her family decided that since she was “ill”, they had to accept her. Her mother often told her that they accepted her because a shrink told them to. Can you imagine hearing that from your own mother? And I thought my mother was awful!

In college and after, I dated some. Nothing ever really worked out, though a few of those dates became friends.

Work was good. I briefly worked for a web-site’s call center before striking out on my own. I created an app that became somewhat popular, and then sold it. After that, I created a successful web-site and sold it. I was 31 when that happened, and I had earned enough money to keep me comfortable for the rest of my life.

I decided to take a year off and go to Thailand. I got my visa and headed off for Bangkok. I immediately fell in love with it, and rented a condo on a six month lease, with the idea of heading to Chiang Mai. Fate had other plans. I met Strong one night when I was out with some of the new friends I made. I was mesmerized.

Strong was an artist and illustrator. He made decent money, but liked to drive a bike taxi as well. He said it was to earn extra cash, but as I got to know him more, I think he just liked getting out. I knew that feeling as I found myself jogging around one of the city’s parks on a daily basis.

Strong and I became friends first, and then slowly our feelings developed further. We first said we were dating, but before long we were able to change our Facebook statuses to “in a relationship with…” Strong introduced me to his family, and they welcomed me. While they all spoke English well, they were pleased with the fact that I was learning Thai and could hold a reasonable conversation in the language.

I kept working while in Bangkok, and never did move to Chiang Mai. Strong and I took a week’s trip there instead. When my visa came close to running out, I went to immigration and extended it. I wasn’t ready to leave. I loved the city, and I do mean that I loved it. I also was in love with Strong, and couldn’t bear to leave him.

We hadn’t talked about our future as yet. We were just enjoying our time together. I had given up my condo and moved into his. It was a little cramped, but neither of us seemed to mind.

“Jason, will you marry me,” Strong asked me one night.

“Yes,” I replied.

Unfortunately, Thailand does not yet have gay marriage, but it was legal back home. I was going to have to go back soon anyway, so we discussed him coming back with me. Strong applied for and got his visa. We told his family, and they were genuinely happy for us.

We got back to the States, and went to my condo. We worked hard to clean it up, deciding to sell it and get a bigger place. We had decided to wait a year before we got married. That way, we would be sure that we weren’t rushing into things.

My family was not pleased. I couldn’t tell if it was because I had gone to Thailand, or if it was because I was now home, or if it was because I came home with a husband-to-be. They were not nice to him., and I made sure to keep my distance from them.

Dad was sick, and in the hospital for a while. I never really knew what it was. We went to see him, but didn’t stay long after the chilly reception we got. Mom kept calling, hinting around that I should come and help take care of Dad. Alone. I referred her to a home health care agency, and she stopped calling.

Finally, it was time to start talking about our wedding plans. Strong and I decided that we wanted to get married at Disney World. We didn’t live far from it, and we loved going. His family said they were coming in for the wedding, except for his grandparents who were maybe a little too old to travel now. All of our friends were pleased for us, and they were all coming. Only my family declined.

Mom had called me to tell me that they weren’t coming. “There’s no way we’re going to come and see some faggots pretend at marriage!” Yes. She used THAT word. I don’t know what else she had to say as I hung up immediately. I blocked her number right away, and then blocked the other numbers. I may have been born to them, but they weren’t my family. Strong, and all the friends I had made along the way were my family.

Strong and I are the same age, and we got married a month after his 37^th birthday, and about three months shy of mine. It was a magical wedding, and we had such a good time!

Now, two years later, and Mom was standing at my door. “You’ve grown a beard,” she remarked, disapproval heavy in her voice. “You should color the grey.”

“Is that all you have to say,” I ask. After that initial bark, I decided it was best to keep my calm. I could hear footsteps behind me, and felt Strong put his arm around my waist.

“Hello, Erica,” he said.

“Strong,” she nodded. I knew she hated his name. She didn’t understand the concept of nicknames, but she also never tried to learn his birth name.

“What do you want,” I asked.

“It’s your father,” she said. “He’s… he’s in the hospital again. The cancer came back.” Cancer? So that’s why he had been in the hospital before.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say. There was silence after that. It was a long, uncomfortable silence, but neither Strong or I made a move to break it.

Finally, she asked, “are you going to go see him? He’s going into hospice soon.”

I looked at Strong, and the decision was made right then. “No,” I replied.

Rage transformed Mom’s face, and she shrieked “You would abandon your family? You ungrateful child!”

“I didn’t abandon my family,” I said quietly. “They abandoned me.” That got her attention. She started to say something, but Strong interjected, “You wouldn’t even go to your son’s wedding.”

Mom’s mouth dropped open, and she clearly didn’t know what to say next.

“I’m sorry that Dad’s sick,” I said. “Take care.” I shut the door on her. For a while, there was silence, but then I finally heard her walk away.

I know I must seem cruel of me to have done that, but I had nothing to give to those people. Not anymore. Over the years, they only seemed to want to take and take from me. They wanted me to be something I wasn’t. They rejected me at every turn. They rejected and had said nasty things about my husband for years. Not going to my wedding had been the final straw.

Strong and I were meeting friends for dinner that night, and I would discuss this with them. These friends were our true family, along with Strong’s family. We were planning on a trip to Bangkok soon to spend time with them, and with the friends we had there.

 Strong was lucky to be born into a family that loved him, and now loved me. We were both lucky to have friends who became our chosen family along the way. I think I’m better off this way.