Blinking a few times, I lifted my head to look into her tear-soaked eyes and asked, “What, Momma?”
Giving me a little smile, she said, “You heard me, baby. I want you to struggle.” She took in a deep breath. “Because when you struggle, you have something to strive for. I want you to be imperfect because you would never have anything to look forward to or work for. I want you to love whoever you want to love… but I want you to love with all your heart. With all your mind. And with all your soul.”
She put up a finger. “The second you stop struggling is the second you have given up, because you have nothing to reach for. You’ve reached the top and we all know where we go when we’ve reached the top, Pat.”
She looked into my eyes. “Where do we go, baby boy?”
Gulping down my emotion, I said, “To the bottom.”
Smiling and nodding her head at me, she said, “That’s right, baby. The bottom, and my baby boy deserves to work his way to the top.” Wrapping both her arms around me, she kissed me on the cheek. “I will always be there with you. Do you hear me?”
I couldn’t hold back now. I lost it. I felt the tears cascading down my face before I could even recognize Momma’s hand wiping away the liquid. I sucked in my bottom lip and felt it quiver because I was too selfish to let her go.
Trying to wipe my face, I said, “I hear you, Momma.”
Attempting to give me a smile, she looked over in the direction of Grandma and Grandpa. Looking back at me with unshed tears in her eyes, she said, “Now I want you to behave yourself for Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma talks to God and Angels every day.” She closed her eyes. I saw tears roll down her face. I lifted my hand and slowly wiped them away. She opened her eyes and said, “And soon I’m going to be one of those Angels, so I’ll know if you’re misbehaving, baby boy.”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Full on sobbing with the chin quivering, the nose dripping, the eyelids fluttering, I wrapped my arms around Momma and squeezed. I didn’t want to let her go. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready. I don’t think you’re ever really ready to say goodbye to someone you love. But in the end we don’t have control over that.
The only things we have absolute certain control over are how many times we say, “I love you.”
How many times we do our best.
How many times we help out others.
Most importantly, how many times we struggle… and get back up on our feet.
Chapter 1
Derrick - 10 years later
Sucking in a breath, I whispered, “I’m gay.”
I had never said those two words out loud before. Of course I had thought them, but thinking and saying are two very separate things. I felt free once they left my mouth. I felt like I was finally being honest and open with myself.
The second they left my mouth I thought back to when I was in high school. When girls at the lunch table were talking about how gorgeous Channing Tatum was or how they wanted to lick Ryan Gosling’s delicious abs, I wanted to jump right in and say, “I totally agree. They’re both fucking gorgeous.”
Instead I followed the lead of the other guys. I waved my hands and said, “They ain’t got nothing on me, honey,” and gave the girls my best panty-soaking, panty-dropping, begging for me to be on top of them, smile. Sure there were a few girls in high school, but it just never really clicked.
Hearing the sounds of students walking the halls, I opened my eyes. I looked back down at the cute girl standing in front of me with her caramel colored eyes.
My heart beat was frantic. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath and I needed an oxygen mask. Most importantly, I just wanted to hear what Ash was going to say. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me on the cheek. Hesitating at first, I then sucked in a breath and realization hit me.
Ashlynn was accepting me for who I was. I was a gay man and I was proud of it. I wasn’t ashamed. How can you be ashamed of who you choose to love? How can anyone be ashamed of who you choose to love? We are at a place in time where the word discrimination is still used. It’s disgusting to see that people are still hateful to you because of your age, gender, ethnicity, and personal choices. I don’t understand why people choose to hate others. You don’t choose who you love; it just happens and you can’t choose how someone else reacts to it. It’s their choice.