(no subject)
He looked hard at her and took a moment before answering, words slow and careful.
“My sister Ally is the only one of my family I still talk to. I told her about Warren a few months ago. I hadn’t realized, until she mentioned it, that I’d never told her about any other of my lovers.”
Her hand was on his arm and he covered it with his, warming the cold fingers. “My parents denied what I was for years. When I finally confronted them about it after my mother set me up with yet another young woman with a good pedigree, my father disinherited me. My sister Ally called as soon as she heard-but, after the first conversation, we avoid talking about my being gay. When I talk to her, I feel as if I have a scarlet letter sewn on my chest, and we are both trying to pretend it’s not there.”
He laughs bitterly then is quiet for a moment. “Ally told me to bring him to visit,” he said, then looked up at her, eyes wide and sad and vulnerable and giving away everything the rest of his expression wasn’t.
The two walked a little further along their path to a small rise with a porch-type swing. They sat and Kyle rested his head against the back of the porch and rubbed a cold hand over his face, drawing it away wet.
“God. I love him.” The words were ragged and edged and sounded like they were being ripped from his throat. “But he won’t let me in. People call in the middle of the night, and he leaves without telling me where he’s going.”
As a bicyclist passes, Kyle seems to realize that he’s said an awful lot more than he ever has.
“Nice legs,” he says a little lamely, relaxing slightly when Mercy rests her head on his shoulder.
The memory fades to black.]]
...Well. That's awkward.
“My sister Ally is the only one of my family I still talk to. I told her about Warren a few months ago. I hadn’t realized, until she mentioned it, that I’d never told her about any other of my lovers.”
Her hand was on his arm and he covered it with his, warming the cold fingers. “My parents denied what I was for years. When I finally confronted them about it after my mother set me up with yet another young woman with a good pedigree, my father disinherited me. My sister Ally called as soon as she heard-but, after the first conversation, we avoid talking about my being gay. When I talk to her, I feel as if I have a scarlet letter sewn on my chest, and we are both trying to pretend it’s not there.”
He laughs bitterly then is quiet for a moment. “Ally told me to bring him to visit,” he said, then looked up at her, eyes wide and sad and vulnerable and giving away everything the rest of his expression wasn’t.
The two walked a little further along their path to a small rise with a porch-type swing. They sat and Kyle rested his head against the back of the porch and rubbed a cold hand over his face, drawing it away wet.
“God. I love him.” The words were ragged and edged and sounded like they were being ripped from his throat. “But he won’t let me in. People call in the middle of the night, and he leaves without telling me where he’s going.”
As a bicyclist passes, Kyle seems to realize that he’s said an awful lot more than he ever has.
“Nice legs,” he says a little lamely, relaxing slightly when Mercy rests her head on his shoulder.
The memory fades to black.]]
...Well. That's awkward.