Seeing Red [✓]

xxiii. for you

I could only imagine what idiotic things Mrs. Red was forcing Reece to approve. He hadn't called either, which did not really surprise me. 

"She is willing to bypass them to talk if you are willing to discuss some...hard truths," Momma said. "I didn't realize that she didn't know Dennis was gay."

"Not everyone's mother is as accepting as you," I mumbled. "We aren't a part of some progressive black neighborhood. This is the Bronx. He knew his mother grew up in the Bronx and once you've reached a certain age, your morals, your thinking has sunken into your skin, and there is no changing them."

"I changed mine," Momma buzzed, as softly as a lady bug.

I looked at her, standing by the edge of my twin bed, still in her night gown. Her hair wrapped in cloth, her eyebrows a bushy mess, no make-up, dots and craters indented into her skin. She looked radiant.

How beautiful we were when we weren't trying to look beautiful.

She sat at the edge of my bed and patted the space next to her. "Come hya, Beautiful."

I sighed and trudged over, sitting next to her. Her hair blew slightly from the ceiling fan that Kenzie still turned on, even though the a/c was cold enough.

"You think I was always okay with this gay thing?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I would have liked to think so," I replied. "Thanks for ruining the illusion." 

She shook her head. "Everyone wants to believe their parents are good people. That they have their same ideals. Back when I was growing up, that was the case. There was no internet to read about a range of differing opinions. My Momma forced me to go to church. The hatred for gays was palpable, Beautiful. Being gay was worse than being a murderer – 'at least a murderer can change' my Momma said. A gay man never can, not really. So, he's cursed to Hell. No matter how much he tried, he's cursed. I believed it because it's what I was taught. One plus one equaled two and gay men were abominations: those were just facts. Until I had my second child."

I turned my head and she patted my knee with her hand. I looked back at her. "I could tell you were different from a young age, Beautiful. You weren't as outgoing as Gorgeous. You hated basketball, you hated confrontation; you read all day, listened to Beyoncé when all the other boys were talking about Lil Wayne. And the way you lit up whenever Dennis came over." She gushed, laughing a tad.

I felt my cheeks burn. She laughed a bit more.

"Your entire voice change – it got softer, sweeter. Your movements changed – they were more careful. Your smile grew brighter. Your eyes shined. That's when I knew that you were gay." She sighed. "I asked Bishop about it, and he suggested bringing you in to make sure you didn't suffer from any afflictions and if you were, he suggested counseling. I prayed about it, asked God to help you. 'Do not let my son walk with broken path alone, Jesus'. Then when your father saw you kissing Dennis and blew up at you, kicked Dennis out, and I could hear you crying into your pillow through your door while your Dad ranted and raved, something clicked in my head: I wasn't going to let my child go through this by himself. So, I told your father if he ever threatened to hit you again for being gay, I'd knock his ass out."

I snorted. "Pops has like almost two feet on you."

"A 120lb mother can lift a a truck if her child was being crushed under it." She smiled. "There is nothing more powerful on the face of this planet than a mother's love," she said. "We worry about you constantly. We worry that you haven't eaten enough when you just ate a full plate. We worry about your health. You are our world from the day we find out you're inside of us, until the moment we're gone – you're our last thought, your safety. I pity those you do not know a mother's love. "