Page 98 of Structure of Love

“Erin!” our mother’s voice called after her. “Erin, where are you going?”

Erin ignored her, handing me the duffel bag. “Bro, waiting for you felt like watching polar ice caps melt.”

“I bet. Hop on in.”

“Whoa, hi there, people?”

I’d told her about everyone, but of course she didn’t know faces. “Quick introductions. Gage, my boyfriend.”

Erin looked up at Gage with this curious, intrigued expression. Then she gave me a pat on the shoulder and said in a serious manner, “Good job.”

I snorted a laugh.

“Hi, Gage,” she said with an outstretched hand.

“Hi,” he returned, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

Moving introductions along. “This is Madison and Zar. Friends of Gage’s.”

She smiled and shook hands with both of them. “Thank you for coming, and sorry, my parents are batshit—”

Our mother finally came out to fetch Erin herself. When she saw me, and police officers, she stopped dead. “What is going on here?”

Erin turned, facing her directly. “I’m leaving you and going no contact.”

Superficially, our mother looked something like Erin. Same bone structure, oval-shaped face, and height. But she was lighter in coloring, her blonde hair greying, which was understandable, as she was almost sixty at this point. She frowned at Erin as if these words were nonsensical.

“What do you mean, leave? You have everything here!”

Erin ignored this. “I’m gay.”

Our mother’s expression turned into this rictus of horror, like the boogeyman had just shown up wielding an axe. “No, you’re not.”

“I think you’ve always sensed I am, on some level. It’s why you pushed guys at me so hard. Why it upset you when I wouldn’t do prom last year. Why you kept trying to organize blind dates for me. Why you kept bringing your thrice-damned Bible into my room to ‘talk’ to me about how wonderful it was to be married with kids—which was goddamn rich coming from you, the woman who ignores most of her children.” Erin pounded a fist to her chest. “I. Am. Gay.”

“You’re not! You’re too pretty to be gay!” Mom blurted out.

Erin’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, and so did mine, for that matter. What the hell did looks even have to do with this? Looks don’t dictate sexual orientation.

Erin decided to ignore her statement as pure nonsense, apparently, as she fired something back. “Don’t try to twist this. I’m telling you I’m gay for a reason. I am leaving. Do you understand?”

Mom shook her head, these little minute shakes, trying to deny Erin’s words. I could see Erin was right, that our mother had suspected, because there wasn’t surprise on her face. Realization, yes, but no surprise.

Our father joined his wife on the covered porch at that point, and he was in his default state: angry.

“What did I just hear?” he bellowed. “You’re not gay! I haven’t raised a gay child!”

Now that I couldn’t let pass. I waved. “Hi, standing right here. Gay as can be.”

Erin snorted a laugh.

I wasn’t here for comedic relief, but hey, happy to serve.

He ignored me, as he normally did, still focused on his daughter. “You get back in this house!”

Erin flipped him off. Both hands. “Over my cold, rotting corpse will I go back in there. I’m eighteen now, I can tell you both to go to hell. These nice police officers will make sure you can’t drag me back in there. It’s abduction if you do.”

“You’re our child!” Mom burst out, wailing, her entire world falling apart in front of her eyes.