Chapter 4 – Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As the New Year started, I noticed my mother's drinking more and more. She drank a bottle of cheap wine most nights. It was harder and harder to rouse her in the mornings for work. She stopped doing my makeup.

I knew what was going on. When you're a 35 year old woman, your 15 year old son is simply not enough. You need friends and lovers. She had neither. She drank wine instead.

The weekend of Valentine's Day, she went out on Friday night. She didn't come home. She missed work that Saturday. She wasn't home when I went to bed Saturday night.

I heard her fumbling with her keys early Sunday morning. I opened the door to a mess. She was clearly drunk. She had a black eye and a busted lip. Her dress was torn. She was not wearing shoes.

I ran a bath and helped her in. I washed her hair and her face. I held her hair back as she retched. I dried her and led her to bed. I held her and fretted as she slept.

When she woke up, she was surprised it was Sunday and more surprised by the state she was in. She had no idea how she had gotten a black eye or a busted lip. She had no idea how she'd gotten home or where the car was. Or her shoes.

She clearly needed help. She agreed to rehab more easily than I expected. She'd be gone thirty days. I thought I could stay alone. She disagreed. She wondered if perhaps I could impose upon the Lustigs. I said no way. We settled on Lori's.

We packed together. My mother headed to Indianapolis. I headed to the Miller guest room. We would both be changed when the thirty days were over.

Lori and I had a slumber party my first night there, just the two of us. She had sneaked a bottle of her parents' wine, and we drank it and laughed the night away in her bedroom. The irony was not lost on me: my mother was in rehab, and I was drinking stolen wine, tracing her footsteps.

When the wine was gone, Lori suggested that we end our mutual virginities. I was surprised. I had always assumed she knew I was gay, although I had never told her, or anyone else for that matter. I'm not sure I'd ever even said the word out loud.

I did, then, for the first time. "Lori, you know I'm . . . uh . . . uh . . . gay, right?"

"Duh. Everyone knows you're gay."

"I can't have sex with you. You're not a guy."

"I know I'm not a guy. But, I'd like to lose my virginity, and you're my best friend."

I was intrigued. I wouldn't mind knowing what intercourse with a girl was like, for later comparison purposes, if nothing else. But, I wasn't sure that, when push came to shove, so to speak, I'd be able to, well, push. I also was sure Lori was in love with me, and introducing sex into the only friendship I had seemed fraught.

"I don't think I'd be able to do it. And, I'm afraid it would ruin our friendship."

"Have you ever had sex?"

"No."

"Gotten close?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure."

"How can you not be sure?"

I told her about Steve. She didn't believe me at first, but the details convinced her. I thought I could trust her. But, I wasn't sure I cared. Steve had betrayed me, so a little betrayal his direction seemed justified.

Lori was impressed. "Wow," she said. "Steve Lustig. Who'da thunk? Although, there is Lust in his name."

"And in his heart, just like Jimmy Carter."

"Did you touch his dick?"

"No. But he grinded it against my leg a few times."

"Was it big?"

"I don't know. I don't have anything to compare it to."

"You have a dick, ass."

"True. I think it was about the same as mine," I speculated.

"That tells me nothing. You could be hung like a horse or a bug fucker?"

"A bug fucker?" I asked.

"Yes. A guy whose so small he could fuck a bug."

We both cracked up. Lori was awesome. I assured her I could not fuck a bug.

"Why didn't you touch it?" she finally asked. "Or suck it?"

"Fear. Unadulterated, granulated fear."

"What's there to be afraid of? It's not like you could get pregnant."

"Scaring him away. Liking it too much. Falling in love."

"Why'd you two stop?"

I told her the Karate Kid story. Lori captured it quickly.

"He's an ass. I'm glad you didn't touch his dick. He doesn't deserve it."

I felt liberated the next day. Secrets get heavier and heavier as you carry them around, slowing and then dragging you down. It was not a secret that I was gay, but saying it out loud for the first time felt like the releasing of one. And, sharing the secret of Steve made the actuality of it seem more real.

*****

My mother was transformed when she retrieved me from the Miller's. Her eyes were clear, her skin glowed, and her merriness had returned.

She embraced AA. She made amends to me, which I told her wasn't necessary. She assured me it was for her, not for me.

I took advantage of the solemnity of the conversation to come out to her. Saying it out loud the second time was easier than the first. There was no hitch in my voice, no faltering over the words. It was just "Mom, I'm gay." Plainly and simply.

"I know," she responded. "I've always known."

"Gosh, you could have said something."

"I wasn't going to tell you something you weren't ready to know. I figured you'd figure it out and let me know when it was okay for me to know what I knew. Which, I assume, it is now."

"It is."

"Okay. I have only one request. Be safe. I've been to too many funerals. I can't bear another one. I just can't."

She started to cry, so I did, too. We cried for my dad, long gone. We cried for my childhood, just ended.