The Telling (17 page)

Michael couldn’t fight a relieved smile. “I can’t promise you anything, and I know I’m nobody’s bargain
right now, but I think I’d like that.” Actually, he liked the idea a lot. Jay had complimented his cooking over breakfast and jokingly
asked, “Can I keep you?” Michael didn’t want it to stay just a joke.

While Jay appeared cool and confident, a deeply exhaled breath told Michael how nervous he’d been. “That’s good enough for
me.” Jay brought their joined hands up to his mouth and planted a kiss on the back of Michael’s hand, sealing the deal. “Will
your mom and sister tell your grandparents?”

Michael had every confidence that the women wouldn’t disclose information that was his to share; however, they could be smugly annoying until he
did make the information public, at least to the family, anyway. To their way of thinking, if you weren’t a blood relative, what went on in their
family was none of your business. Furthermore, they would never do anything to hurt him. With a fair amount of certainty he answered,
“No.”

“Will you tell them?”

Michael couldn’t help noticing the hopeful look in his lover’s eyes. “Do you want them to know?”

Jay paused before answering. “Not if it’s going to upset them or put a strain on your relationship. But I gotta tell ya, I personally
don’t care who knows. I’m tickled to death, though I’ll understand if you want to keep it quiet. It is okay if I tell my
folks, right?”

That was something Michael had never even considered. “How do you think they’ll take it?”

Jay grinned, all confidence returned. “They came to terms with my being gay a long time ago and they’ll be happy for me. Although, I
might have to keep my eye on you around my Aunt Angelica, she likes big blond men.”

“Well, it just so happens that I like dark skin, eyes, hair, and a smooth Texas drawl.” Michael lifted his chin and glanced at Jay a
bit sideways.
Flirting? I’m flirting? Damn this feels good.

“I think I know someone who fits that description.”

“Not your Aunt Angelica, I hope.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jay replied, “Nah, Aunt Angelica is a
gringa
from my mom’s side of the family. Pale skin, red hair,
smokes, drinks, and cusses like a sailor.” He winked at Michael, who jumped away in mock horror, forming a cross with his fingers and brandishing
them as if warding off bloodsucking fiends.

“Then by all means, keep an eye on me around your aunt.”

Jay’s laughed, deep and throaty, like a discreet grope in a public place—exciting and erotic. “Don’t worry,
Querido
,
I will. How do you think your grandparents are going to react?” Worry replaced the sunny smile.

Michael sighed and rubbed his free hand through his hair. “I have no idea.” Wait a minute. What had Jay just called him? “Why
did you call me ‘
Querido
’?”

They pulled into the yard of the white frame farmhouse. Jay killed the engine. “Well, I didn’t know how you’d react to
‘baby’, ‘darling’, or ‘studmuffin’, so I use an endearment that I’ve heard since I
was a child.”

“So it’s Spanish?”

Jay nodded. “Yes, it’s actually what my mother calls my father. She got it from my grandmother. If you don’t like
it… “

“No, it’s not that, I’d just never heard it before, is all, and wondered what it meant.”

“It means ‘beloved,’” Jay said, releasing Michael’s hand to exit the vehicle, leaving a shocked Michael
to contemplate those words.
Beloved?

Michael got out and joined Jay, mulling that word over in his mind like a mantra.
Beloved, beloved, beloved.
Together they crossed the yard and
climbed the steps, pausing to gaze at each other for a long moment before Michael took a deep breath and opened the door.
Here goes nothing…

They followed the smell of roast beef down the long hallway that led from the front porch to the back, stopping briefly in the bathroom to wash their hands
and exchange a quick kiss behind closed doors.

“Ready?” Michael asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” replied Jay.

The last door on the right opened into a sunlit kitchen, in stark contrast to the darkness of the windowless hallway. A fond smile greeted them.

They leaned in and each kissed a wrinkled cheek, saying, “Hi, Grandma!”

“Hello, boys,” the elderly woman greeted. “How are you this sunny Sunday?”

“Fine, Grandma,” they answered.

She narrowed her eyes and looked them up and down. “You boys wash your hands?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Grandma pointed toward the stove. “I hope you’re hungry, I made pot roast with all the trimmings. Here, make yourselves useful.
“ She handed Jay a pot of steaming green beans and Michael an oblong glass dish filled with potatoes, then shooed them in the direction of the
dining room.

Michael’s mother, grandfather, and sister were already seated at the table, chatting quietly.

“Hey, you’re just in time,” Gramps remarked, beckoning them to sit.

Michael and Jay dropped down, side by side, into the chairs they had occupied the last time they’d both been at that table, and Grandma Eileen
placed more bowls on the table before taking her place at the end. The family joined hands and Gramps blessed the food.

Michael could feel eyes on him even before he heard, “Amen.” He opened his eyes to find a grinning Angie.

Apparently, his sister couldn’t wait to share the news, as Michael’s mom was smirking over her coffee cup. Oh well, he’d
expected them to share information, and trusted them not to make any announcements before he had a chance to talk to Grandpa. They could still be annoying,
though.

Dinner was a lively affair, everyone taking the opportunity to catch up on what all the others had been doing. Jay sat beside Michael once again, but this
time he seemed to enjoy the meal more, eating heartily, smiling, and talking. He also brushed his hand against Michael’s thigh under the guise of
wiping his fingers on the napkin draped across his lap.

Michael carefully schooled his features to keep those moments private but, truth be told, after last night and then the conversation they’d had
on the way over, he had to practice restraint to keep from acknowledging how happy he was and why. Watching from the corner of his eye, he waited, and when
Jay’s hand made its next ‘accidental’ pass over his thigh he briefly caught a little finger with his own, giving a gentle
squeeze.

After dinner the men normally retired to the living room to watch television while the women cleaned the kitchen. Jay stayed behind to help, allowing
Michael some time alone with his grandfather. Talk spread fast in a small town, and anyone seeing Jay and Michael together might spread rumors. Best to
tell Grandpa the truth now.

The NASCAR race started and several times Michael tried to begin a conversation, only to be interrupted by, “Did you see that?”, and
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” or “You call yourself a driver?” Michael shut up and waited for a
commercial.

When the first advertisement began he tugged the remote from his Grandpa’s hand, muting the TV. “Gramps? Can we talk?”

The old man glanced between the now-silent television and Michael, as though unable to figure out why the noise had stopped or when Michael had appeared
beside him on the couch. Understanding settled over his features and he suddenly seemed to realize where he was and what was happening. “Sure,
son,” he replied. “I’m all ears.” He reached into his ear and adjusted the volume on his hearing aid.
“Shoot.”

“Well, Grandpa; it’s like this,” Michael began. Somehow all of his well-rehearsed words flew out the window, reminding him of
just how terrible he was at self expression. Maybe he should have sent Angie instead. That girl had no problem at all getting her point across.
Oh, well, I’m the one here, it’s my secret to tell, and I need to be a man about it.

To his patiently waiting grandfather he said, “You know about Jay, right?”

Momentary confusion crossed his grandfather’s wrinkled face before it relaxed into a look of comprehension. “Sure I do. Ain’t
like it’s no secret around here. I mean, it’s so obvious. Anyone looking at him could tell.”

Wow. Gramps never even batted an eye. Maybe this was going to be easier than previously expected. “And you’re okay with it?”

Gramps made a shooing motion with his hands. “What’s there to be okay with? That’s the way he is and there’s
nothing can be done about it. It ain’t like the boy can change now, can he?”

Well, now. That was certainly unexpected. “Gramps, you’re amazing, you know that?”

He wasn’t sure if the wrinkled, age-spotted skin was still capable of a blush, but could have sworn the man reddened at the compliment. Things
were going so great. Better even than when he’d talked to his mother. Finally, in true Michael Ritter fashion, he opened his mouth and blurted
the first thing that came to mind, “So, it doesn’t bother you that I’m like Jay?”

His grandfather stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “But you ain’t Mexican.”

Chapter Thirteen

Gramps thought he meant Jay’s heritage?

So much for him making this easy. But it’s nice to know that the color of Jay’s skin isn’t a problem.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled—an exercise a counselor had taught him to help with anxiety. As it was, he wouldn’t be this
calm if it hadn’t been for the medication he’d taken earlier. “Only for emergencies,” his counselor instructed.
Coming out to his grandfather had to count.

Closing his eyes, he revisited the old fishing hole he’d so loved as a kid. The Michael in his memory picked up a flat rock and skipped it across
water, breathing deeply of the phantom honeysuckles that flourished, without dying, in his sweetest memories. Then he smiled, calm and somewhat relaxed. He
opened his eyes to find his grandfather waiting.

“I wasn’t talking about his ancestry, Grandpa,” Michael said.

“Then what are you talking about?”

Damn. So this really wasn’t going to be easy after all. He should have expected as much. “I’m talking about his orientation,
Gramps. You do know he’s gay, right?”

The old man sighed. “I was afraid you’d bring that up sooner or later.”

“You do know, right?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to ignore, especially when I send him to town in my truck to buy feed and six people call asking what that
‘faggot’ is doing in my pickup. You know how people are.” Gramps shrugged. “Some folks ain’t got no
manners and never learned to mind their own business.”

His grandfather leaned in, staring him pointedly in the eyes. “But not a doggone one of those people called to check on me and Eileen when my
back went out, and not a one of them offered to lend a hand. The only help we got was your mama, your sister, that ‘Mexican faggot,’ as
they call him, and all the friends he and Angie brought with ‘em. They got the hay in, tended the crops, and picked apples until I was up and
around again. So those old busybodies’ words don’t hold a bit of weight with me. A man’s actions prove who he is.”

His sermon delivered, Gramps collapsed back onto the couch, wearing a look that dared anyone to naysay him now that he’d spoken his mind.

Michael had always admired his grandfather. For a fairly simple man, he had a gentle wisdom that couldn’t be denied. Still, though his thoughts
about Jay were well stated, the obvious question remained unanswered. “What do you think about him being gay?”

“I try not to, to be honest. I know what the Bible says, and I firmly believe every word in there. But then I see this nice young man
that’d do anything for anybody, one of the best men I’ve ever known, and it confuses me. He ain’t bad. I’ve never
seen him hurt nobody. Goodness knows what a blessing he’s been to me, your grandmamma, and your mama. He also keeps an eye out for
Angie.” His grandfather shook his head slowly back and forth. “Beats me how I’m supposed to condemn somebody like that. So I
pray about it some, but mostly I just try not to think about it. Works better that way.”

Michael reminded him, “Gramps, I’m like Jay.

The old man shook his head again. “Ain’t telling me nothing I ain’t figured out a long time back. I knew we’d
probably have this conversation sooner or later. Been doing a lot of praying ‘bout that, too. Hoping I was wrong.”

“You knew?” Michael had only fully believed it himself recently, how in the world could this old man, whom he used to feel was
helplessly out of touch with the modern world, have known before he did? “How did you know?”

“I saw the way you were when you was dating Bruce Dunwoody’s daughter. I remember how I looked at your grandmamma when I was young and
you weren’t looking at that girl like that. It was more like you looked at a friend, not like you were s’pose to look at the love of
your life. At first I thought that maybe she just wasn’t the one, but I pay attention and I seen things. I don’t have had the best book
learning, but I know people, and I watch ‘em. Though I was hoping I was wrong, it appears I wasn’t.”

Michael whispered, terrified of the answer even though the man was being rational so far, “Do you still love me, Gramps?”

Bushy brows rose over his grandfather’s eyes. “Love you? Now why wouldn’t I love you?”

“Well, now you know what I am, and you grew up believing it’s wrong—that I’m wrong—”

His grandfather cut him off. “Son, the only thing that changed betwixt an hour ago and this minute is that now I know. No more speculating, I
know for sure. One thing I’ve learned from watching people is that if you try to be something you’re not, it ain’t gonna do
nothing but make you miserable and get you into trouble.”

“So, you’re all right with it?”

With a stern look the old man told him, “I don’t understand it and maybe I never will, but you’re my grandson and
you’re a good man. I can’t tell you how it killed me inside when we thought we’d lost you. I can’t swear to you
that I’ll stop hoping that it’s something you’ll grow out of, I can only promise to try my best to understand and to be there
for you, like I always have.”

Michael paused a moment, considering the words. On the silent TV the race resumed. Michael ignored it. “Will you have a problem with me and Jay
being more than just friends?”