Legacy

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"You know? What do you mean you know?" I yell, embarrassed at the fear that's settled in my throat like a stiff lump.

Mom freezes at her own revelation, at the sound of my retort. Her hand is still glued to the knob of the door. She breathes a deep sigh as she gently taps her forehead over the ornate, crystalline glass of the hardwood door.

"We have a lot to talk about," she says, still not letting up on the door's knob. It isn't until she hears the hum of Howard's engine crank and fade down the driveway, that she eases up on it. She turns to me and I feel myself ready to crumble before her, but I stand tall. Apparently I'm not the only one with secrets.

And where do we even start? My gayness? My demon fire? My boyfriend? Celeste? And what about her? What about her man friend that just tried to get a confession out of me? And that boy who nearly killed me and Dustin was here for her? How does she know him? And how does he know me?

"I love you so much," my mom tells me with a sincere heart, but I can't help but think the worst is going to follow. "Can we start there?"

It's the last thing I expect her to ask in a situation this serious. I expect 'so you think you grown out here having sex with a man?' or 'stay in a child's place' or even a possessive 'you're my son. You do as I say' about any of this. It's always been that way with her and dad.

"Um, sure mom," I respond, some apprehension in my voice. "I love you too. I just need to know what's happening so I can stop feeling like I'm unraveling."

"I know. I know. I'm sure you've been in a world of confusion since the day your father left."

"Am I the reason he left? I tried to tell you guys about Keon and I felt like somehow dad knew something but he just wouldn't let me say it. Then the next morning he was suddenly gone. You convinced me it was another fire, so when he never came back, I felt it was my fault. Then it seemed like you were working more and more and I was alone."

"I understand Shiloh. I'm so sorry and I want to be here for you now and for the rest of the time we have together," she says cryptically as she embraces me in a warm hug. It's one of those hugs that feels like goodbye.

"What does that mean though?" I require as she holds my head to her bosom.

She takes hold of my shoulders and looks me in my eyes when she says "It'll probably be best if I show you. Come with me."

I follow mom back to the inset showroom where she opens a wooden cabinet and pulls from it a thick, dusty, black leather book. She stands and motions for me to follow her through to the kitchen.

Mom sits to a barstool at the marble island of the vast kitchen. She places the black book down and the dust flows from its bindings.

"What is that mom?"

"Our truth," she tells me as she opens the book to its first page. It's an old photo album. Mom lets out a sigh and places her hand on the first page. Between her fingers is a drawing of a woman that catches my eye.

The drawing is of a dark woman in a colorful head wrap with even darker locs spilling from the top. She sits at a clothed table with hands adorned in several rings of precious stones and metals. Those hands hover over a crystal ball and the entire thing is wrapped in gold painted banners at the top and bottom that say 'The Black Nomads Circus' and 'Wilma the Seer'.

"Woah," I utter at the sight of her. "Is that you mom?"

"No," she reveals with a bittersweet sigh as she grabs my shoulders. "Sit down son," she tells me as she taps the seat of the barstool next to her. "Your father and I have been keeping things from you for a long time," she bluntly reveals as I settle onto the cushiony leather stool. "We told you simple stories of a simple and small family that died before you were born. My family, my life, was anything but simple. What feels like forever ago, I used to be part of a circus. It's where I spent most of my childhood. It was called The Black Nomads Circus and this woman here is my mother. Your Grandma Wilma."

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