Page 99 of Winging It with You

“Until it was—” my voice catches. “Everything changed for me. In a single instant, everything about my life—about me and who I am and who I thought the world would see me as—it all changed. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be your gay son.Justyour gay son.”

“But you’ve never been just one thing.”

“I know that. Now,” I say, squeezing her hands in mine. “But at the time, I couldn’t see beyond anything other than the person I loved. The person who claimed to love me for who I am, taking that choice away from me. They robbed me of coming out, Mom. They took something so personal and so monumental to who I am and who I wanted to be and politicized it. They made an example out of me and guaranteed that I withdrew so deeply within myself that I couldn’t get hurt like that again.”

She’s quiet, but the tears still stream down her face.

“But if we’re being truthful with each other, son,” she says, her hands still warm in mine with the familiar comfort that only a mother’s hands can make you feel. “I know you, Theo. I’ve knownyousince your very first breath. So, when I say this, I say it with all the love and adoration in the world.” She looks at me with knowing eyes. “I think this was more about you not loving yourself. Or not believing that you were worthy of loveor even that you were scared to live a life that was authentic to you,” she says, leaning forward. “And the fact that you’re back here, after all this time, I’m afraid that you’re still being driven by that fear.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my words barely escaping the lump in my throat.

She offers a small smile. “Te amo, mi tesoro. I’ve always loved you and always will. You’re one of the greatest men I know, and your father and I are so proud of you. I’ve watched you be there for those around you. For me,” she says, touching her chest. “For Elise and for your friends. Without fail, you’ve dropped whatever you’re doing and shown up for them with your loving heart and bravery. But mijo, you don’t do the same for yourself. For some reason, you’ve decided that the best course of action whenyourlife gets hard is to run. It’s why you dove headfirst into work after leaving the Navy, and if I had to guess, it’s why you didn’t stay to figure everything out with Asher.”

I feel my shoulders slump against the weight of her observation. Every part of me knows she’s right; of course she is. I’ve gotten used to a habit, and as we sit in a familiar booth at Hank’s place, I’m not entirely sure how to break it.

But I want to try.

“It’s different with him, isn’t it?” she says after a moment, rubbing my hands. “With Asher?”

“Itfeelsdifferent,” I admit. “But I’m scared, Mamá. I’m scared I’ve opened myself up to someone again and allowed all those feelings to come rushing in…” My voice trails off, and I can’t fight the lump in my throat anymore. “And I’m scared it was all for nothing.” My mother has more strength and honesty than anyone I’ve ever known. I’ve watched her hold it togetherfor everyone in my life. And when she gets up from her spot in the booth and sits next to me, taking me in her arms, whispering over and over again how much she adores me, I pray for a fraction of her strength as we all begin to mend what has been disjointed for so long.

We spend the rest of the day as a family.

Running through the tall grass around the lake, the kids giggling and trailing behind me. Looking through old photos with Mom and Elise, each of them dabbing their eyes here and there at how much has changed over the years. Watching my parents curl up together on that old armchair like they have my entire life, still so in love.

“Who is that, mijo?” my father asks, looking out toward the driveway after returning from the kitchen, a blackberry cobbler still warm in one hand and a can of whipped topping in the other. Like old times, we’ve shared every meal on the patio, the stars above us and the breeze coming off the lake to keep us cool.

I squint my eyes, struggling to see through the summer haze. “I’m not sure…” I say, but when I hear the uneven sounds of a rolling duffel against the rough pavement, I know.

Asher.

28

Asher

Denpasar International Airport

Bali, Indonesia

Jo and I barely spoke as we sped off in the van toward the airport. She’d thrown her phone on the dash as she haggled with the airline representative, playing every card and pulling every string she had in her arsenal to get me where I needed to go. When we got to the international terminal, we shot out like two human cannonballs at the circus. Ripping my bag from the back seat, I turned to Jo, searching for the right words—sincere words for the kindness she’d shown me. But despite the variations ofthank youI’d strung together in my head, I said nothing. Instead, Jo, sensing my mental fumble, silently pulled me in for a forced but welcome hug.

“Go get him,” she said, kissing me on the cheek before practically shoving me toward the ticket counter.

I sprinted through the automatic doors, breathless and running on fumes, making a note of all the things I still needed tosay to her. How this competition changed my life, how she’d always been in my corner.

How thankful I am for her friendship.

Racing through multiple airports and across multiple time zones, only one thought kept me going—

Theo.

But after hours and hours of travel, when I see him standing there at the end of the driveway, I suddenly have no idea what to say.

“Hi.”

He puts his hands in his pockets. The evening light makes it difficult to read his expression, but he seems neither ecstatic nor enraged to see me, so I guess that’s a win.

Before Theo can say anything and the two of us are swept up in the breathtaking reunion I’d been fantasizing about since the moment he left, a tiny human comes running up behind him, screaming from the shadows.

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