Page 16 of New Year in Kentbury
“It’s not just about the business.” My voice rises, the anger and frustration spilling over. “It’s about me. About who I am. About the parts of myself I’ve buried for years because I have to carry my family’s legacy. Plus, I have to make everyone happy, be an example . . . be someone I’m not.”
The silence that follows is deafening. His gaze intensifies, and I can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to piece together what I’m saying.
“Damian,” he says slowly, cautiously. “What exactly are you trying to tell me?”
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I force the words out. “I’m gay, Dad. I’ve known for years, but I never said anything because I didn’t want to disappoint you or the fucking town. Because I didn’t want to be the son who failed to live up to your expectations.”
The air between us feels charged, like a storm about to break. He leans back in his chair, his face unreadable. For a moment, I think he’s going to lash out, to tell me I’ve ruined everything.
Instead, he surprises me.
“And you think this changes how I see you?” he asks, his tone measured but not cold.
I blink, thrown off balance. “Doesn’t it?”
He exhales, shaking his head. “Damian, you’ve always been hard on yourself. Always trying to prove something to me, toeveryone. The moment your mom died you wanted to take over the family and . . . I shouldn’t have let you be so hard on yourself. But you’re my son. That doesn’t change.”
His words hit me like a punch in the gut, unexpected and overwhelming.
“But—” I start, my voice cracking.
“No, Damian,” he interrupts firmly. “You’re my son. You’re a damn good man. You’ve built a life you should be proud of. If this is who you are, then stop hiding. Love freely and live your life.”
“I didn’t think you’d understand,” I admit, my voice quiet, uncertain, as if saying the words aloud makes me too vulnerable. My chest feels tight, and I brace myself for the rejection I’ve spent years fearing.
“You’re my son,” he says again, his tone resolute, unwavering in a way that makes me pause. “That’s enough for me.”
The room changes, the tension that’s been suffocating me for years softening like a storm breaking apart in the distance. The air feels lighter, and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I can breathe.
“What about the town?” I ask, the words tinged with hesitation. The question feels too big, too dangerous to leave unspoken. “What if they don’t accept it? Me?”
He leans forward, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that doesn’t waver. “The town is kind, Damian. And if some people judge you? Screw them. We don’t live our lives by their standards. You shouldn’t live yours by their expectations.”
His response stuns me. It’s so simple, so absolute, that for a moment, I don’t know what to say. “Just like that?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “What about Mom’s legacy? The perfect family image she built?”
“Your mom’s legacy wasn’t perfection,” he says firmly. “It was love. That’s what she gave us, Damian. That’s what she livedfor. She’d love you no matter what, and anyone who tells you otherwise didn’t know her well.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, the force of them knocking down walls I didn’t even know I’d built. For so long, I’ve been carrying this secret, this fear, this shame, thinking it would destroy everything my mother left behind. And now, hearing him say it so plainly, I realize how much of that burden was my own creation.
“Her legacy,” he continues, his voice softer now, “is loving you. Loving us. That’s what she’d want. Not for you to hide who you are.”
I swallow hard, emotion tightening my throat as the weight of his words settles over me. For years, I’ve been running from this moment, from the possibility of rejection. And here it is—acceptance. Simple, unconditional, and absolute.
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice breaking as I finally let go of the breath I’ve been holding for far too long. The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I can give him in this moment. “Thank you for saying that.”
He stands, crossing the room to place a hand on my shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it anchors me, grounds me in the reality that I’m not alone in this anymore. “Your only job should be learning to be happy. Your legacy isn’t the resort or the town. It is the love you give to your family.”
And I believe him. I really believe him.
Chapter Nine
Damian
It tookme a long month to summon the courage to come out to my brother and sister. A month of rehearsing words that felt both foreign and too familiar, a month of twisting my stomach into knots at the thought of their reactions. I chose a familydinner, while we were still in the kitchen cooking, before their spouses and children arrived and the space filled with the noise of their lives. It was the safest moment I could find, though it hardly felt safe. Their reactions, as different as their personalities, somehow met me in the same place: support. Not perfect, not without hesitation, but support nonetheless.
By the end of the night, I made a decision. Therapy. A step toward understanding myself before I braved the wider world with this truth. The truth I’d kept locked so tightly that even saying it aloud felt like prying apart rusted hinges.
After years of hiding, of wearing a mask that was never quite convincing, I feel awkward in this new honesty, like I’m a stranger to my own reflection. And yes, I suppose I was a liar. A liar out of fear—fear of rejection, fear of losing the people I love, fear of standing alone in the aftermath. But now that my family knows, now that their love has held me steady even for this fleeting moment, the fear doesn’t feel quite so crippling. If I have to leave, if I have to carve a new life out of somewhere unfamiliar, I will. This time, I will.
