Page 50 of His Choice

“I didn’t mean to bother you, though. I just…”

“Needed space,” she repeated. “Well, I won’t bother you if you want to find a book and curl up to read. Cliff has something in every genre. I started off reading a murder mystery earlier, but it was about a bunch of guests in a mansion where people were getting knocked off. Considering our current situation, I thought it would give me nightmares.”

“Oh. Yeah, I could see that,” I replied. Although if it happened here, I imagined she would be the murderer. “Um, what did you end up choosing instead?”

“It’s a gay romance novel,” she said, snapping it shut. “It’s taking way too long to get to the smut. I like build-up, but this one is irritating. These characters just aren’t interesting enough to carry a story without some fucking. Now, if this one was a murder mystery, the reader would be rooting for the killer and praying the MCs are next on his list.”

I was surprised Cliff’s mother was admitting she enjoyed gay erotica and swore like a sailor. It didn’t seem congruent with her son’s demeanor.

“Does Cliff like…those kinds of novels? Gay romance, I mean.”

She shrugged. “Well, he owns them, so one can only assume so. He wouldn’t admit it, though, since most of them have explicit sex scenes. If you haven’t figured it out, my son is a bit prim. He claims it’s because I traumatized him when he was younger, parading men in and out of the house. It’s just another one of his silly exaggerations to paint himself the poor little rich boy.” Ms. Walker smiled and made the comment without malice.

“I, uh…”

“I’m glad you stopped by. You might be able to share stuff Cliff won’t about your night together. You think he’d ever tell me about one of his dates? If I didn’t know better, I’d believe he’s a thirty-three-year-old virgin.” Her mouth quirked up. “But I do know better. Everyone around him—in this town and in his businesses—has a big mouth.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Oh. That’s…good?”

“So, about those books. If you want to read one, they’re behind the desk on the lowest shelf, mixed in with tax accounting and farm equipment guides to dissuade me from scrutinizing that section. If a book is missing an outer sleeve, then it’s one of the juicy ones.”

I chuckled despite myself. “So, you haven’t told him you found them?”

She shook her head. “As amusing as it would be to watch him blush, squirm, and pretend he hasn’t actually read any of them, I really do try not to torment him. Well, not too much, anyway—especially when it comes to sex. The last thing he needs is to be embarrassed into becoming even more prudish. And this isn’t my first experience with this behavior. When he was younger and lived at home, he stashed gay adult magazines. He hid them in folders labeled with his school subjects. The best rags were the ones he placed in the most boring studies, like economics. Anyway, I never told him I found them.”

“Is that how you found out he’s gay?” I wondered.

Ms. Walker pursed her lips. “If it had been, I would have had the hardest time keeping quiet about it. Besides not wanting to embarrass him about the magazines, I would have had to admit that I was snooping. Then how would I ever get away with doing that again?” She snickered. “I know. I know. It was a violation of his privacy. But when you become a parent of a teenager, you’ll see how scary it becomes to hear about kids using drugs. When Cliff was in school, this town was dealing with a bad opioid crisis. Fortunately, it turned out Cliff only hid inconsequential stuff from me…as if I would have cared that he masturbated to suggestive pictures. I was thankful he wasn’t putting himself in dangerous situations. And don’t you snitch on me and share with him what I told you. Even now, he’d be mortified.”

“I won’t,” I promised. I was too afraid of Ms. Walker to have ratted on her anyway.

“I haven’t really answered your question. I already knew Cliff was gay before finding his stash. He’d told me. His behavior is rather contradictory, I suppose. Despite how he protects his privacy on things that seem like no big deal to me, he is open about what really matters. I was glad he knew he could confide in me about what might have scared him and revealed sides of himself that he wouldn’t share with others. I learned that downplaying something that worried him was the best approach. He needed to know I was a lifeboat when he was adrift. So, when he came out to me at the age of fourteen, I hid my surprise. If I recall, I said, ‘Okay. Are you good with it?’ He answered that he didn’t want me to tell anyone else, but he accepted it about himself. So, I shrugged, pretended it didn’t matter, then asked him what he wanted for dinner. Of course, once I went to bed, I worried all night about whether kids would mistreat him. They didn’t, but that was because he kept the secret, and Cliff could always pass as straight. I hated that he felt the need to hide, but a part of me was relieved that it kept him safe from bullies. It was conflicting for me, so I could only imagine how difficult it was for him. For any of you.”

“Did the two of you talk about it much with each other, at least?” I wondered.

“I tried to. I even suggested we do things together, excluding his friends, that I thought a gay teenager might enjoy. You know, like clothes shopping, going to Broadway shows, dishing about boys.” She snorted a laugh. “That was a bust. He used to look at me like I was the clueless cluck I was, assuming his announcement would transform him into a different person with all new interests. Cliff continued to be a guy’s guy—just in more ways than one.”

I couldn’t help but grin at that. “That’s not usually the disappointment parents express about their gay kids.”

“At least he aligns to one stereotype—a good eye for fashion. That’s come in handy when I want a second opinion. But no, he didn’t bring it up much after he came out. When I’d ask him if there were any boys that interested him, he’d become annoyed. I backed off and gave him his privacy—when I wasn’t snooping.” She paused, her expression softening before reaching to the chair next to her, patting the cushion in invitation for me to sit. I obeyed, mostly because I still wasn’t sure she wouldn’t retrieve a revolver from behind her pillow and shoot me if I didn’t. “I take it from your comment regarding disappointed parents that you didn’t receive a positive reaction?”

“It wasn’t traumatic or anything,” I explained. “My parents lean conservative, so they were quiet and seemed kind of sad. I think my father mumbled ‘that’s not the news I hoped to hear’ or something like that, then left the room. My mother lamented about how I’d have a tougher life, then added that there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it, though, so she’d learn to accept it. There was no bible-thumping or condemnation lectures then or any time after. Eventually, our interactions returned to normal. It helped that one of the couples they hung out with found out shortly after I came out that their son was gay, too. That mother and father were all in…the PFLAG kind of parents. I think that shamed my mom and dad into trying to be cooler and more supportive.”

Ms. Walker rolled her eyes. “I’m not surprised that’s what it took. I believe homophobia mostly stems from worrying about what other people think. Oh, they’ll claim it’s about the bible or whatever, but if every other person in someone’s life said they had no problem with someone being gay, then that person wouldn’t either. Like the way everyone accepts divorce even though most of the weddings take place in churches where God allegedly blesses the everlasting union. But if you listen to some of our politicians, one of the biggest concerns we should have is this alleged gay indoctrination that’s happening in our media and in our schools. Please, the brainwashing is coming from them and others who try to shame others into their beliefs from the time they’re born. It’s not hard to understand why some people never venture out of the closet.”

“When did Cliff start letting other people know he’s gay?”

“Once he went to college, something changed,” she replied. “He developed a ‘fuck everyone who has a problem with it’ attitude. I was and am proud of him for that. If only he could be that way about everything. He cares too much about what others think and being liked.”

I found that interesting, considering he seemed to have everything and could easily dismiss others’ opinions. “I don’t know him well, obviously, but I doubt what you’re describing is insecurity. How could it be when he’s so handsome and successful? I’m the one who lacks confidence. I’ll bet what you’re seeing is your son’s desire to be viewed as a man of integrity and kindness. When I was with him earlier, he almost seemed ashamed that he has nice possessions—like he should deprive himself of everything to be considered a good person. He doesn’t realize that everyone in town already views him that way. People always comment about his generosity and compassion. I’m guessing if he wasn’t thought of that way, he’d consider it a personal failure. I’ll bet that he just wants reinforcement that he’s living his life the way he expects himself to.” I scratched my neck when she didn’t respond. “Or I could be a backseat know-nothing psychologist wannabe, who doesn’t know enough to keep his mouth shut when it comes to other people’s children.”

“No,” she cut in. “No… That’s it! You nailed it. Thank you! You just made it so clear to me.”

I sighed with relief. Maybe the revolver would stay behind the pillow. “I can tell after spending time with him that the people in town are right about him. He must make you proud.”

“He does,” she confirmed. “I told him that all the time when he was still living at home. He used to eat that up. Now, my praise gets an uncomfortable thank you. I don’t think he views me as that person with integrity and kindness. A compliment from me has him rethinking whatever I praised, I suppose.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said to be kind. I really had no idea.