Never Ending Love

A skunk makes a wonderful pet, I thought to myself as I watched my black and white animal sleeping on the couch. They’re so relaxed and loving. I gave Stinky Jo a pat behind her ears. She purred like a kitten. 

I have had this skunk for five years now. She has been the best friend I’ve ever had. My dog passed away six years ago, and the cat ran away and never came home. So, I went out and bought myself an unusual pet — a skunk. She doesn’t attack. I’ve never been sprayed. She’s the best little pet I’ve ever had.  

One day — when I had just come home from work at PetSmart in the City — I found my little skunk laying in the sun. I called out to her.  

“Stinky Jo!” I yelled. No response. 

Hmmm, I thought. Something is wrong. 

I called her name again.  

When she did not answer the third time I tried to call, I walked over, fearing the worst. She lay there, in the sun, not moving. I bent down to take a closer look. Sure enough, my skunk was dead.  

“NO!” I cried out. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing yet another pet, especially her. She was my absolute favorite.  

*****

After the funeral, I sat around my apartment and cried. Everybody had left — all but a couple of stragglers (basically my folks). My mom was very sympathetic.  

“You gonna be all right, James?” she asked as she sat on the sofa next to me.  

I leaned into her, sobbing.

My dad, on other hand, was not so compassionate towards me.  

“You know, James, all these pets you’ve had… How about finding yourself a girlfriend? Ever thought of that?”

I sat up and glared at my father.  My mother looked worried.  

“We just worry about you, is all,” she said to me. “We think it may be time you found something a little better. Someone.”

At about this time, I decided it was time for my parents to go. After they left — upon my forcing them out — I lay in my bed and cried. I cried for all the pets I’ve ever had — my dog Jo-Jo who passed away of canine cancer, the cat I got after Jo-Jo died, and of course, Stinky Jo.

My tears subsided, and I began to wonder. I wondered if maybe the reason I had become attached to all these pets was — maybe, just maybe — I was lonely.  

There was just one thing I didn’t want my parents to know. I was gay. I liked other men. I buried my love in pets because I never wanted my parents to find out their only child was gay.  

***

Shortly after Stinky Jo died, I met him. Jason. The most wonderful human I have ever laid eyes on. Jason was kind, caring, and thoughtful. Jason was gorgeous. Jason had big, beautiful blue eyes that I loved staring into when we were together. Jason was gay, like me. I adored Jason.  

We met in the subways of New York City and immediately exchanged numbers. He was from upstate, but was looking for a place in the city. It wasn’t long before he was living with me.  

I hadn’t contacted Mom and Dad since I met Jason, and they never stopped by without calling or asking first, but I had an aching feeling I needed to at least call them.  

It had been six months since Jason and I started dating. As I picked up my iPhone on a rainy Monday afternoon when Jason was still at the office, I hesitated.  

A bunch of thoughts whirled through my mind. What if they rejected me? What if they hated me for not calling them for so long? What if they didn’t like who I was? The what-ifs attacked me so hard, I had to set my phone down in a panic/anxiety attack. That’s when Jason walked in the door from his job as a secretary at a local law firm. 

I must have looked awful because he looked at me.  

“What’s wrong?” he asked.  

Taking my head out of my hand and sighing, I looked up at him from my place on the loveseat. He came over and sat next to me.  

“Oh, sweetie. Just call them.”  

He picked up my phone and handed it to me.  

The phone rang and rang. Finally, just as it was about to go to voicemail, I heard my dad’s voice.  

“Hello?”  

I looked at Jason.  

“Go on,” he encouraged me.  

“Dad, I’ve met someone, and I’m sitting alone with h-them in my apartment now.”

“Them?” I could hear confusion in my father’s voice.  

Jason looked at me, equally as confused.  

“Him,” I stated, looking back at Jason. Those blue eyes were enough to die for! I melted a bit.  

Jason smiled.  

“Okay, so you’re gay. Is that why it took you six months to call us?”  

I let out a sob. I hadn’t cried like that since Stinky Jo’s funeral!

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I was such a failure to you and Mom. I’m sorry I’m gay. I — I — maybe I should just go ahead and get another pet.” I wiped my eyes. Jason leaned over and hugged me.  

“Not gonna happen,” he whispered to me. “I won’t leave.”  

“James, your mom and I don’t care what you are. We love you, no matter what. I can’t understand why you were so afraid to tell us. You know we love you, and we’re proud of you.”

Joy flooded my heart as Jason wiped away my tears. He pointed out the window at the rain clearing up.  

“You see that?”

I looked out the window to see the sun shining through the rain and saw a rainbow. I said “gotta go” and hung up the phone.  

Jason picked up my hand and led me to the window. We kissed — with a beautiful rainbow behind us. The rainbow reflected into the room as we stood there, lip-locked, until we both broke away breathless.   

The next day, we adopted another unusual pet — a chinchilla.