“Of course it’s not your fault, Kenneth.” My heart burned that he thought it was. Kurt and I were perfectly capable of having a rousing fight without his help.
“Yeah, well, I thought things were pretty messed up to begin with, but I had no idea they’d turn into this. No matter how distanced Naomi tries to be from her family, she keeps getting sucked back into fucked up family stuff.”
I wouldn’t normally use that word, but in this case it was completely appropriate. “Fucked up family stuff, yes,” I said. And Kenneth turned to me with very wide, surprised eyes. I laughed at that. Moms can say the “f” word, too, even Mormon ones.
“Mom, I spent a long time thinking about resigning my church membership,” Kenneth said, his tall bulk close enough for me to feel comfort in its size and strength. Just like his father’s, I thought.
“I know that,” I said.
“No, listen to me. If it were just about me, I’d have done it a long time ago. Even before the policy change. When I got off my mission, I think. But I knew how much it would hurt Dad. And you.” Kenneth was looking off into the horizon where the Salt Lake lay instead of at me.
“I love you no matter what, Kenneth. Nothing will change that.” I wished Kurt had been there to say the same thing for his part, but the problem was, I wasn’t sure that it was true. Did Kurt love Kenneth the same, now that he had left the church? Did he love Samuel the same? I thought he was trying to, but I wasn’t sure that was enough.
Kenneth started twirling the shovel, the sun catching it again and again in a kind of visual song. “I remember all through my teenage years, hearing people talk about how it broke parents’ hearts when their children chose the wrong path, and how the parents would speak in testimony meeting about praying for their children to come back. I didn’t want to be the one you and Dad talked about like that. I didn’t want everyone to pity you because of me.” Finally, he let the shovel rest on the ground, motionless.
“I won’t talk about you like that, Kenneth.” But again, I couldn’t promise for Kurt.
“The problem with leaving the Mormon church is that it’s almost impossible to do without leaving your family at the same time. You have no idea how many stories I’ve heard from Mormons Anonymous like that. People who just leave both at once, and how disorienting and lonely it is for them for a long time. But it’s not any easier for those who try to hold onto their families and then live with the well-meaning emails and ‘gifts’ for every occasion, all designed to bring the lost sheep home.”
“Are you a lost sheep?” I asked Kenneth, forcing him to look me in the eye now.
“Well, yesterday I would have said definitely not. Today, who knows?” he laughed a little hollowly. “But listen, Mom.” He looked me straight in the eyes.
Who would have thought there would come a day when it was one of my sons who asked me to listen instead of the other way around? “I’m listening,” I said, my heart swollen with feeling for this son of mine.
“I always suspected that if I left, you’d go on loving me without blinking an eye. But I also knew that Dad might not be able to do that, and that the two of you would probably have fights because of me.”
I let out a long sigh. “Kenneth, it may look like it’s because of you, but what happened between your father and me was about deeper problems. Maybe ones we’ve been ignoring for most of our marriage.” Had I only thought I was really happy with him all those years? Had I just been happy with mothering and with my sons? Or was I exaggerating our problems in the present, because I couldn’t see how we’d resolve them in the future?
“Now that I’m out, I feel like I can be my real self. It feels like I can take full breaths for the first time in forever,” Kenneth said, and he sounded emotional about it.
“I can breathe,” I said defensively.
He laughed. “Yes, Mom. But I’m not like you. I couldn’t breathe in there.”
I guess I knew what he meant. “I’m glad you’ve found what you need.”
“You want me to do something? Call Dad and apologize?” Kenneth offered.
“Apologize for what? For being true to yourself? No, Kenneth.”
After another few minutes, we got down the steepest part of the hill, where the sound of the stream was faint, overcome by the buzzing of insects. I stepped into the cleared section and felt the punishing heat of the July sun in the Utah desert. There were no shade trees overhead, and the overgrown grass only seemed to amplify the heat.
It was more of a cemetery than I had anticipated. There were several large gravestones and a stone angel that looked more frightening than comforting. The angel was wingless, as was traditional in Mormon theology, but it was holding a sword and looked rather martial.
I stood and read the dates on the three large stones:
elizabeth carter,
born december 24, 1939, died july 27, 1981.
richard carter,
born august 15, 1938, died july 27, 1981.
edward carter,
born august 15, 1965, died july 27, 1981.