"The Turning Point" by Lori Hicks

The Turning Point

            Dusk. Early July summer evenings are pregnant with possibilities. The heat of the day has faded but the cool of the evening hasn’t approached yet. This particular dusk brought my son, Chris and I closer together than we’d ever been.

*

We were sitting in the back yard, watching the sun turn from bright yellow, to orange, to a purplish blue color. The crickets were just beginning to voice their evening song. Here and there little flashes sparkled in the grass as lightening bugs frolicked. This was our quiet time, the place where we didn’t have to say or do anything, we could just be with each other.

We tried to spend an hour or two just being with each other each night. Some nights we’d talk, some he’d sketch whatever popped into his mind, and some nights we’d just sit and watch the world go by. That night, I knew something was on his mind, he’d been quiet though dinner. I waited until we were outside, watching the sun go down to ask him about it.

“Um, well. You see. I sort of have something I want to talk to you about but I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

I could see how nervous Chris was. His whole body was tense; his hands were clenched and he looked as if he was ready to do battle. He also had this horrid, haunted look on his face, as if he was waiting for something horrible to happen.

“Take your time, Chris. We have all night."

I could see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting just to my left in the green, plastic, lawn chair. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable and he kept crossing and uncrossing his long legs. He fidgeted for another ten minutes or so before he began again.

“Mom, you love me, right?”

“Yes, Chris. I love you with my whole heart.”

“And nothing’s ever going to change that?”

“Nothing ever could. Not in a million years.”

Another few minutes passed before he finally got up the courage to tell me. His voice cracked as he started – stopped – and finally started again.

“Mom, I think I might be bisexual.”  

For a moment I was taken aback. I was fully ready to hear, “mom, I’m gay.” I’d known for a couple of years that Chris was gay, but I figured he’d tell me when he was ready, so I didn’t push. Bisexual never entered my mind. The only thing I could think to say at that point was, “Well, Chris, you have a 50 percent greater chance of a date on Saturday night.”

The tension that had held him its grip released suddenly. He let out a breath that he’d been holding and stared at me for a long moment with a confused look on his face. Then he started laughing so hard his face turned purple and tears were rolling down his cheeks. For a few minutes all he could do was laugh. Some of it was a release of nervous tension. I knew that a part of him had been expecting me react badly and disown him or something.  Another part of him was probably reacting to the absurdity of my comment.  His laughter was infectious though, and soon I was laughing so hard that I had tears rolling down my face too.

I’m not sure how long we sat there laughing like fools. The fireflies had gone home and the cricket’s chirps had segued into frog’s croaking. Dusk was nearly over and full dark wasn’t far off. We sat quietly, spent after our outburst of laughter. Chris reached out his hand to mine and gently squeezed. Then he said the words that give me the most joy in life.

“I love you, Mom.”