Page 102 of The Prodigal Son

“Don’t say that,” my mother argues with a gasp. “Of course we do.”

I turn my enraged eyes on my dad. “Are you sure about that?”

“What in the hell are you going on about? What has gotten into you?” he asks with pained worry.

“I’m gay,” I say flatly.

“No, you’re not,” he says, like this is something up for debate. Like I’m saying it just to anger him.

“Yes, I am. And I’m sorry if that makes me a disappointment to you.”

“Go to your room,” he bellows again, ignoring my argument.

“I’m just like the Millers’ kid, which I guess means that my presence only curses you to hell. Isn’t that right?”

“I said go to your room, boy. I swear…” He shakes his head in anger as if losing his temper would somehow be my fault. Andtonight, I’m in the mood to push him. Maybe if I make him mad enough, he’ll be the one to explode.

I’ve been tiptoeing around him for so long, I’m ready to push all of his buttons just to see how much damage I can do.

“Why should I? Because just the sight of me makes you sick? You think a good read of the scripture is going tocureme?” I hold up my hands to make air quotes.

Adam is watching us from the hall. “Isaac, stop it.”

Caleb stands up, but he’s looking at Adam. Neither of them knows which side to take or what to do. It’s stupid of me to do this without Luke here, the one brother I always know will have my back.

“Why should I be the one to stop, Adam? Why can’t I speak my truth?”

Dad takes a step toward me, and I watch him with worry. He hasn’t laid a hand on me since I was a little kid and those were disguised as spankings.

My hands are shaking as I stare at my dad, trying to understand the look in his eyes. It’s not just anger anymore. It’s fear and sadness too. I’m not just making him mad. I’m breaking his heart.

“Go ahead, Dad. Say it. Tell me to get out. Tell me to leave forever because if you’re going to be an ignorant bigot to the rest of the world, you have to be one to your own son?—”

His hand slaps hard against my cheek, and I hear a collective gasp from everyone in the room. Facing the floor, I hold my cheek and feel the adrenaline course through my body.

“That’s enough!” my mother screams as she rushes around the table and puts herself between us. She covers my hand with hers and strokes my back as a form of comfort. “You boys never know when to quit, do you? Always fighting. Always yelling at each other, and I can’t take another minute!”

My eyes and throat sting as I fight off the tears. My father storms off to the living room as I force myself to feel the burn on my cheek from my father’s hand. I want to remember this feeling. The pain, the anger, the torment. Because after tonight, when I’m gone, I’ll need to remember why I left. I never want to forget this feeling because it will drive me for the rest of my life.

After tonight, I’ll show him that I don’t need him anymore. I’ll show him just how good and amazing I can bewithouthim, and it won’t matter that I’m gay or that his God won’t accept me this way. I will live a long, happy, successful life alone.

And I’ll never have to see Truett Goode again.

Thirty

Jensen

“You just hung up?” I ask. My phone is resting on the pillow next to me, and Isaac’s reclined on his bed on the tour bus.

“Yeah. I have nothing to say to him.”

“Good,” I reply with a nod. “I’m proud of you.”

“I just…can’t believe after all this time and everything he’s done…he just called me.”

I sit up and run a hand through my hair. Picking up my phone, I take Isaac with me as I amble into the bathroom to clean up.

“I can’t even fathom trying to understand that man’s decisions,” I say before dousing cold water on my face.

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