Oh, hell. He shouldn’t have said a thing. Not one fucking thing about this. Goddamn it, why did he have to blow his whole life up at the same time? Why couldn’t his first real lover break up with him…and then he’d wait a couple of years, maybe a decade, before he came out to his parents and they shut him down? But noooooo, he had to—
“Is that why you’ve never talked about who you were with?” she asked. “Because…”
“Maybe. Yes…”
There was a sniffle. And then a hitched breath.
Her disappointment coming over the connection was too much to bear, the crushing weight settling on his chest and rendering it impossible to breathe.
“How could you—”
He rushed to cut her off, because he couldn’t bear to have her sweet voice say the words. “Mahmen, I’m sorry. Look, I didn’t mean it, okay? I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just—”
“What have I or we ever done—”
“Mahmen, stop. Stop.” In the pause that followed, he thought about quoting her some Lady Gaga, and backing it up with a whole lot of it’s-not-your-fault, you’ve-done-nothing-wrong-as-a-parent stuff. “Mahmen, I just—”
He broke down at that point, weeping as quietly as he could. The sense that in his mother’s view, he had let down his family just by being who he was…was a failure of acceptance that he was never going to get over. He just wanted to live, honestly and out front, with no apology. Like everyone else. To love who he loved, be who he was…but society had a different standard, and as he had always feared, his parents were a part of that—
Dimly, he was aware of his mother speaking to him, and he struggled to pull it together and end the call—
“…to make you think you couldn’t come to us with this? That it’s something that would change how we feel about you?”
Blay blinked as his brain translated what he’d just heard into some language that made any kind of sense. “I’m sorry…? What?”
“Why have you…what did we do to make you feel that anything about you would make you somehow…diminished in our eyes?” She cleared her throat, as if she were gathering herself. “I love you. You are my heart beating outside of my chest. I don’t care who you are mated to, or whether they have blond hair or black hair, blue or green eyes, male or female parts—as long as you are happy, that’s all I worry about. I want for you what you want for yourself. I love you, Blaylock—I love you.”
“What…are you saying…”
“I love you.”
“Mahmen…” he croaked, tears forming again.
“I just wish you hadn’t told me over the phone,” she muttered. “I’d like to hug you right now.”
He laughed in an ugly, sloppy way. “I didn’t mean to. I mean, I didn’t plan this. It just came out.”
Funny choice of words, he thought.
“And I’m sorry,” she said, “that things didn’t work out with Saxton. He’s a very nice gentlemale. Are you sure it’s over?”
Blay scrubbed his face as reality recalibrated itself, the love he’d always known clearly still with him. In spite of the truth. Or maybe…because of it.
In moments like this, he felt like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
“Blay?”
“Sorry. Yeah, sorry. About Saxton…” He thought about what he’d done in that office down in the training center when he’d been alone. “Yes, Mahmen, it’s over. I’m very sure.”
“Okay, so here’s what you have to do. You take some time and do some healing. You’ll know when you’ve done enough. Then you have to be open to meeting somebody new. You are such a catch, you know.”
And here she was, telling him to go meet another guy.
“Blay? Did you hear me? I don’t want you to spend your life alone.”
He mopped his face again. “You are the best mother on the planet, you know that.”
“So when are you coming home to see me. I want to cook for you.”
Blay relaxed into the pillows, in spite of the fact that his head was starting to ache—likely because even though he was alone, he’d still tried to hold things together during his crying jag. Likely also because he still hated where he was with Qhuinn. And he still missed Saxton in a way—because it was hard to sleep alone.
But this was good. This…honesty went a long way for him—
“Wait, wait.” He sat upright off the pillows. “Listen, I don’t want you to say anything to Dad.”
“Dearest Virgin Scribe, why not?”
“I don’t know. I’m nervous.”
“Honey, he’s not going to feel any differently than I do.”
Yeah, but as the only born son and the last of the bloodline…and with the whole father/son thing…“Please. Let me tell him face-to-face.” Oh, like that didn’t make him want to throw up. “I should have done that with you. I’ll come as soon as I’m off rotation—I don’t want to put you in the position of keeping something from him—”
“Don’t worry about that. This is your information—you have the right to share it with people whenever and however you want. I would appreciate your doing it soon, though. Under normal circumstances, your father and I tell each other everything.”
“I promise.”
There was a lull in the conversation. “So tell me about work—how’s it going?”
He shook his head. “Mahmen, you don’t want to hear about that.”
“Sure I do.”
“I don’t want you to think my job is dangerous.”
“Blaylock, son of my beloved hellren, exactly what kind of an idiot do you think I am?”
Blay laughed and then got serious. “Qhuinn flew an airplane tonight.”
“Really? I didn’t know he could fly.”
Wasn’t that the theme song for the evening. “He can’t.” Blay eased back again and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Zsadist got injured and we had to get him out of this remote location. Qhuinn decided to…I mean, you know how he is, he’ll try anything.”
“Very adventurous, a little wild. But what a lovely young male. Such a crying shame what his family did to him.”
Blay fiddled with the tie on his robe. “You always did like him, didn’t you. It’s funny, I’d think a lot of parents wouldn’t approve of him—on so many levels.”
“That’s because they buy into that whole tough-guy exterior. To me, it’s what’s inside that counts.” She made a clucking sound, and he could just picture her shaking her head sadly. “You know, I’ll never forget the night you brought him over for the first time. He was this tiny scrap of a pretrans, with that obvious imperfection that I’m sure he’d been given a hard time about at every turn. And yet even with that, he walked right up to me, stuck out his hand, and introduced himself. He met me directly in the eye, not in any kind of confrontation, but as if he wanted me to take a good look at him and throw him out then and there if I needed to.” His mother exhaled a soft curse. “I would have taken him in that very night, you know. In a heartbeat. To hell with the glymera.”
“You really, truly, totally are the best mother on earth.”
Now she laughed. “And to think you say that without my even putting food in front of you.”
“Well, lasagna would make you the best mother in the universe.”
“I’ll start boiling the noodles now.”
As he closed his eyes, the return of the easy back-and-forth that had been the hallmark of their relationship seemed extra special.
“So tell me more about Qhuinn’s bravery. I love to hear you talk about him, you get so animated.”
Man, Blay refused to think about any of the whys on that one. He just launched into the tale, with some judicious editing so he didn’t divulge anything the Brothers wouldn’t want on the airways—not that his mother would ever say a thing to anybody.
“Well, we were out scoping this area, and…”
“Do you need aught else, sire?”
Qhuinn shook his head and chewed as fast as he could to clear his mouth. “No, thanks, Fritz.”
“Mayhap some more roast beef?”
“Nah, thanks—oh, okay.” He backed out of the way as more of the perfectly cooked meat hit his plate. “But I don’t need—”
More potatoes. More squash.
“And I’ll bring you another glass of milk,” the butler said with a smile.
As the old doggen turned away, Qhuinn took a bracing breath and tucked in to his round two. He had a feeling that all of this food was Fritz’s way of saying thank you, and it was odd—the more he ate, the more he started to feel hungry.
Come to think of it…when was the last time he’d had a meal?