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Drama LGBTQ+

“Howard! This is not why we called Parker here tonight!” My mother growled at my father. He tapped his foot and pursed his lips, as if he was holding back from barking another awful comment at me.


It had taken her ten whole minutes to stop him from harassing me, once again. Ten whole minutes to break that unbearable awkward silence that crammed the cold and creaky room. I wasn’t even sure why I’d come back to this hateful house.


I haven’t seen or talked to either of them in the past five years, so I was quite puzzled when my mother called me last night and asked that I come for dinner. I only agreed because she demanded they had urgent, life changing news to inform me of.


My parents have never made an attempt to reconcile with me, their own flesh and blood, their only kid. When I was sixteen, my father kicked me out of our home after he walked in my room and saw me kissing another boy. It was the middle of winter, but he didn’t care. I was out on my ass in the blistering, freezing cold.


Luckily, my boyfriend Rich, had supportive parents who took me in. Rich and I are married now, and his parents are also mine. They have been the best parents to me in the past five years than my parents have ever been in my entire twenty-one years of life.


“Why did you want me here tonight, dad?” I sneered as I crossed my arms. An abundance of hostility and years of built up hate brimmed the room.


“This was all your mother’s idea. I told her not to call you!” My father slammed his bottle of beer on to the table and stomped his way up the stairs.


The slam of my father’s bedroom door shook the pictures that were hanging on the walls, and startled my mother that she almost plunged out of her chair. He had an anger problem since I could remember. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure my mother has been making excuses for him since long before I was even in the picture.


“Parker, your father’s sick.” My mother’s eyes filled with tears, “He’s dying, Parker!”


“Dying? How? What’s wrong with him?” I expressed my concern.


“Last week we found out he has stage four colon cancer. There’s nothing left for him to try. Doctor Ramirez told us he has maybe a year left.” Her voice trembled, hands shook, and eyes lowered.


My mother’s heart was breaking. My father was a piece of work, but my mother adored him. They’d been together for over twenty years.


“I’m sorry, mom. I know how much you love him.”


“Parker, please try to put aside your differences with your father. He’s dying and it shouldn’t end like this! We are family.” My mother tried to plead with me.


“My differences? He kicked his own son out of his own home because he’s gay! Who does that? And what kind of mother sits by and doesn’t defend her own son, mom?” I felt a burning in my chest as my nostrils flared.


“Parker! Tell your father that you’re not gay. Tell him you went to therapy and they fixed you. PLEASE!” My mother was begging at this point.


I threw my hands in the air, “Fixed? I’m gay okay, mom? It’s not the same thing as having a broken bone. This isn’t something that a doctor can fix. Being gay is who I am, it isn’t something that can be fixed. You and dad obviously don’t understand that. I will not go in there and pretend to be someone I’m not! You both accept me for who I am or he can die alone.”


“For goodness sake Parker, you know we can’t do that. Go in there and talk to your father! Please Parker!” My mother cried.


“That’s exactly your problem, mom. You’re just not listening to me, are you? Do you honestly think everything’s going to be perfect if we just pretend I’m not gay? How delusional can you be?” I grabbed my orange parka from the back of my chair and stormed for the front door.


“Parker, stop! I love you so much!” She held her arms out to me, as if I was supposed to reciprocate a hug. It didn’t happen, I had no hugs to give to this woman.


I pivoted around and glared into her swollen bloodshot eyes, “I can’t do this anymore, mom. I don’t want this. This isn’t what a family does. I should be able to be openly gay. Please don’t call me again. Goodbye.” I walked away from there and never looked back.


#


My mother left a voicemail for me six months later to inform me that my father had passed. I deleted the message instantly, I had no use for it. The news didn’t bother me, in fact, I didn’t even attend his funeral. My mom died three months after my father did, I think it was from a broken heart. I treated her death the same way as I did with my father’s death, like it meant absolutely nothing.


My phone rang off the hook for a couple of weeks following their death’s. Distant cousins, aunts, and uncles all chimed in about how if they were able to attend being ten thousand miles away, then there’s really no excuse why their own son couldn’t have made an appearance.

#


Rich and I adopted a set of twin girl’s two years later. They are such a blessing. I love them unconditionally, and I couldn’t fathom abandoning them for any reason. They will always know what a parent’s love and support feels like because there is absolutely nothing in this world that we can’t figure out together as a family.


 Rich and my daughter’s taught me that family doesn’t necessarily have to include blood relatives. Family is what you make it. It’s about being there for each other, taking care of each other, and supporting each other. Family doesn’t disown one another because they don’t agree with who they are. Instead, they love each other for exactly who they are.

The end


September 13, 2022 04:23

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