Page 60 of From the Ashes

“Language, Fredrick, please,” my mom sobs. Portia is with her, feeling the arm she’s favoring.

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Ross,” Portia says, not looking up from my mom. “I was eating the avocado and tofu.” She offers me a weak smile. “Thanks for rescuing the Nemos. I think your mom might have fractured something, but hopefully it’s not too serious.”

I exhale, looking down at my bucket of fish, then back up at the rubble cave we seem to be trapped in, the fake Sakura tree looming over us, gently raining petals every now and again, then at Portia’s somehow still immaculate strawberry blond hair. The laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it.

“I almost wish I wasn’t gay,” I tell her, bordering on becoming hysterical. I’m not sure if I’m grateful for or regretting that wine in my empty stomach right now. “This would be one hell of a first date story to tell our kids someday.”

“How can you joke about that in a time like this?” my mom says, sobbing harder.

I shrug, putting down the wine bucket and moving closer to inspect her myself. Not that I don’t trust Portia. She seems like the kind of person who requalifies her first aid training more often than is strictly necessary. But because despite how awful she’s been today, she’s still my mom, and I love her.

“It seems like the perfect time to joke,” I tell her as I run my hands over the rest of her body, brushing away grit and glass. “Everything about this situation is completely absurd.”

However, I quickly realize she’s sobbing in earnest. So much so that I begin to worry she’s not telling us about some rebar she’s secretly impaled with.

Like I said, I love my mom. But I have no doubt that she’d be the character in a zombie movie who wouldn’t tell anyone she’d been bitten.

“Stop upsetting your mother!” my father snaps, clearly still needing to feel he’s in charge even though he’s only slightly better off than a moth displayed on a pinboard right now.

Upon further inspection, however, I’m even more sure that there aren’t any other obvious injuries. “Mom, tell me where it hurts.”

She takes a raggedy breath. “You’ll never have children!” she wails.

I glance at Portia in confusion, then look down at my balls, honestly wondering if she’s noticed some damage I haven’t.

“Mrs. Ross,” Portia says patiently. “Just because Colt is gay doesn’t mean he won’t be a father. A lot of couples adopt, and there’s always surrogacy.”

Holy shit. The earth shifted under us and the goddamned building collapsed around our heads, and this is what she’s tying herself up in knots about?

“It’s not the same!” my mom continues to bemoan, shaking and fidgeting and probably making her injured arm worse than it already is. “You’ll never know the joy of coming together to create a life! How could you do this to me? You’ll never love them the same way if it’s not your flesh and blood!”

“The way you love me?” I snap in disgust, my short fuse replacing the dark humor of the situation in a flash. “What the hell, Mom? I thought I was crazy for being so afraid of coming out to you for so long. But I was completely right. All you care about is what other people will think and having more of your bloodline to mold in your perfect image.”

I shake my head, picking up my new fish friends, and standing up so I can put some distance between us.

“Colt?” she squeaks, tears streaming down her face. But I don’t care if we’re in the middle of a crisis. I said I was done with being manipulated and I meant it.

“We can talk about this later,” I say blandly, moving over to my father. “Or never. It’s really up to you. How’s it going, Dad? Can you wiggle all your fingers and toes?”

It’s mildly impressive how he still manages to puff up like a bullfrog while looking like a sausage that’s gotten trapped under the grill fork.

“We didn’t raise you to be this rude!” he blusters.

I shrug as I look over how the beam has wedged him against the wall, avoiding meeting his gaze while I assess the problem.

“No,” I finally reply. “You raised me to believe that even the slightest hint of questioning your judgement was rude. All I wanted was your approval, Dad. Your love. I thought becoming a lawyer would finally make you think I was worth something.” I glance up and our eyes connect. “But it turns out that I can neverwin. I’ll never do enough, be enough, achieve enough to warrant your unconditional love. Neither of you.” I cast a look over my shoulder at my mom who’s quietly watching me. “So I give up. I’m not going to try anymore. I’m going to live my life the way I want to, and if we ever get out of this mess, you can decide if you want to be part of that life.”

“Of course we’re getting out of here,” my father says indignantly.

I sigh and shake my head. “Out of everything I said,that’sthe part you’re going to focus on?”

“Shh!” Portia hisses suddenly with a frown. “Did you hear that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know—” my father begins to grumble, but Portia and I both shush him this time. I strain my ears, not sure what I should be listening out for. But if Portia’s thinks it’s important, I’ll try.

“Maybe I imagined it,” she whispers a few moments later.

I shake my head as I place my bucket of fish on the floor and press myself as close as I dare against the rubble. I don’t want to shift anything and have the fake tree or more of the ceiling crush us. But if there’s anyone looking for us…

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