Tied in Knots: A Tied Together Novella (9 page)

I
looked
down at the address I had written on the piece of paper I was holding. The house number was three seventy-five. Looking back at the houses to see the address numbers, I noticed that the houses pretty much all looked the same. They were older, ranch-style homes—probably built in the sixties. Certainly a major difference compared to growing up in the trailer park. The development was quiet with the exception of a few kids riding their bikes up and down the sidewalks. I couldn’t help the anger that was starting to rise. I’d never had any of this as a child, and as soon as I’d left for college, my mother had escaped and found the life I should have had.

I had to stop and remind myself that I now had the life that I should have had all those years ago. I’d made it happen for myself and didn’t need to rely on my parents to get me there. Perhaps it was all meant to happen this way. Would I have ever met Ryan if I hadn’t been an outcast at school? Would I have needed him as much if it had been easy for me to come out of the closet as a teen? I couldn’t help but think the answer to those questions was no.

I found the right house number on the mailbox and pulled into the driveway. There was a pickup truck parked in the garage next to a Harley Davidson motorcycle. I remembered from the letter that Mom’s husband worked as a mechanic and maybe liked to tinker with cars and bikes as a hobby. I wouldn’t have time to ask; I was only here for one thing, and then I was getting back home to my family.

I followed the walkway to the front door, noticing some cracks in the concrete but also the flowers that had been planted along the way. I got to the door and closed my eyes. There was still time to turn around. I didn’t have to do this. But Ryan was counting on me to get the closure that I needed. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the doorbell.

O
ne second
… two seconds… three seconds.

Through the frosted window panel next to the door, I saw a form approaching. The door opened, and a young, petite woman stood there. She had long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She gave me a small smile.

“Hello, can I help—? Oh my God, Brandon.” She covered her mouth with her hand and tears started to form in her eyes. It didn’t take me to long to place who she was. Rebecca, Mom’s stepdaughter. “I’m so sorry. Please come in.” She pulled the door open wider for me, and I stepped inside.

“You look just like your pictures. Except more grown up,” Rebecca said with an uncomfortable laugh. I guessed my visit was just as uncomfortable for her as it was for me.

“I didn’t think she would have any pictures of me,” was all I could say.

“She does. There was some stuff that she brought over from her old place when she moved in with us. Most of it’s packed up in boxes, but she always kept your picture out.”

I gave Rebecca a shy smile because I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It didn’t sound like the person I had grown up with. That woman would have loved to erase me from her life completely.

“She’s going to be over the moon that you’re here. She didn’t think you would come, but I told her that miracles happen all the time,” she said, clapping her hands together in front of her. “Unfortunately, my dad isn’t here. He had to go to work.”

“Um, is she here? Or at a hospital?” I asked. I really didn’t intend to be rude to Rebecca; she seemed like a sweet woman. Part of me was curious about what Mom had told her and Eric about me. If she’d been honest and told them that my father beat me and she’d done nothing to stop it. Or had she covered for herself and made it seem like it was all my father’s fault. However, that wasn’t what I came here for. I came for closure, and that was it. There was no sense now trying to pick apart the last twentysomething years.

“She’s here.” Rebecca’s thumb pointed toward the inside of the house. “She’s not doing well, and we all came to the conclusion that she’d be better at home instead of the hospital. We moved things out of the family room to put a hospital bed in there. A nurse comes every day to check on her and show us how to dispense medication. But now it’s only a matter of time.”

I nodded, unable to find the appropriate words.

“Come inside. Can I get you anything to drink?” Rebecca asked as she started to move toward the family room.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” That was the farthest thing from the truth. My stomach was turning inside out, and I felt like I was going to lose the contents of my stomach at any moment.

I followed Rebecca into the family room. In the middle of the room was a large hospital bed draped with what looked like handmade quilts. Light from the outside poured in the windows and some sort of daytime TV show was on. I had a flashback to living in our trailer and Mom watching some designing TV show, smoking cigarette after cigarette while yelling at my father about the dump we lived in.

“Mama, you’re not going to believe who came to see you!” Rebecca said in the most joyous tone.

Mama.
The mom I never had.

Then I saw her. A fragile being lay in the bed. Her cheeks were sunken, there were dark circles under her eyes, and delicate arms rested on top of the blankets. A cloth hat was on her head, which was probably hairless due to the chemo. The woman before me was a shell of the person I once knew. She turned her head to look at me, and I was struck by her eyes. The color was the same as I remembered, but now they were sick and haunted.

“Brandon,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” I replied, my heart racing.

Rebecca cut in. “Brandon, let me get you a chair so you can sit next to her.”

“Thanks, Rebecca.”

My legs started to shake as I moved closer to my mom. I could see the bruises on her arms and hands from places where they tried to either take blood or give her injections. She didn’t say anything more as I got close; she just studied me as I was evaluating her. Rebecca came with a chair from the other room and placed it next to the bed.

“I’m going to go into the other room and let you two talk. Brandon, just holler if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Rebecca.” I nodded as she left the room. I sat down and looked at the woman before me.
Where do I start? Do I just say, “I forgive you”? But is that something I really mean?

“Your voice is so much deeper,” Mom said. I guess that was one way to break the ice.

“That usually happens when you grow up.” I let out a small laugh, and she smiled.

“You grew up for sure. You’ve turned into a very handsome man, Brandon.”

“Thank you.”

Was I not handsome before? Was I just a piece of garbage you wanted to throw away?

“I’ll answer any questions you have,” she said—almost if she was reading my mind.

I sat for a moment and tried to think of some of the questions that racked my brain while I was on my drive here. But I could only think of one.

“Why?”

“Why what?” She furrowed her brow.

“Why did you stay if you were so miserable? Why didn’t you take me and get out of there? Why did you let him beat me when there were so many ways to get out of it?”

“I was scared, angry, and young. I was foolish to think that maybe things would eventually get better. I was stupid to think that no matter what happened, at least you had a father. If I called DFCS, they would have taken you away and then you would have been in foster care for who knows how long. I was selfish thinking that the life you had with us was better than being another child in the system.”

“I would have been better off.” It was a low blow, and I knew it. But if we were going to be honest with either other, she need to hear everything.

“I know that now.” She began to cough, and I could see that pain was radiating through her body as she shook and grabbed her abdomen. I grabbed a tissue from the table next to the bed and handed it to her. When she was done coughing, she took it and wiped her mouth.

“You have every reason to hate me. I’ve spent years hating myself for what I put you through. It wasn’t fair, to either of us.”

I thought about her letter and how she said she’d been forced to marry my father. “No, it wasn’t fair.”

“I was jealous of you.”

“Jealous?” This was news to me.

“You were so smart, Brandon, and I knew once you got out and away from us, you were going to do great things. I never got the chance to go to college or make something out of my life. Now here you are, a doctor. Did you get married? Do you have children?”

I paused and looked down at the floor. I didn’t know if I wanted to invite my mother into my personal life. She didn’t deserve to be there. But I needed everything to be out in the open to move forward. I lifted my head and looked her straight in the eye. “Yes, I’m married. His name is Ryan and we have two beautiful children.”

“
His
name? You married a man?”

I took a deep breath, tilted my chin up, and looked directly at her. “Yes, Mom. I’m gay.” Two words I never said to my parents, despite the fact that my dad had called me every homophobic slur he could think of.

She nodded. “I’m happy you found the person you were meant to be with. I didn’t agree with your father when it came to homosexuals. Your father was a bigot; he didn’t understand anything outside of what he knew. But in truth, he knew nothing.” She let out a small laugh.

“Mom, I can’t say that I understand the choices you made in the past. And I can’t honestly sit here and say that I forgive you for all of it. But that’s in the past, and I can say that I have moved on and I’m happy. I hope you can find the peace that you need to say the same thing.” I reached out and placed my hand on top of hers. A tear fell from her eye, and she quickly wiped it away. “I need to go,” I said quietly.

“I understand. I truly appreciate you coming to see me, Brandon. Thank you.”

I stood up and looked at the woman who was supposed to have been the person to protect me as a child. The woman who should have nursed me back to health when I’d been sick, the one who defended me when people were too mean, the one who tucked me into bed at night and read me stories. That wasn’t this woman. She never was.

I walked toward the foyer, and Rebecca was in the living room, reading a magazine. She saw me and came over to see me out. She gave me another bright smile and opened the door.

“I can only image how difficult this was for you, but I thank you for coming. I’m sure we know two different women, but I want you to know that she’s always spoken highly of you.”

“Thank you, Rebecca,” I said, stepping out into the sun.

The door shut behind me, and I pulled my keys out of my pocket to unlock the car. I got in, started the car, and back out of the driveway. I’d made it about a mile when I pulled the car over to the side of the road. Tears I’d been holding in for who knew how long streamed down my face. I screamed, swore, and pounded my fists on the steering wheel. After a half hour, there were no more tears and I felt like a giant weight had been lifted from my soul.

Those would be the last tears I would ever shed over my mother or my past. It was time to go home to my present and future.

F
ifty-eight days
. That was how long little Quinn was in the NICU. The first few weeks were the hardest because she was high risk. They removed the oscillating vent after the first week, but she didn’t tolerate it and had to be reintubated with a conventional ventilator. The most difficult part for Ryan was when anyone tried to touch her and her heart rate dropped. I attempted to comfort him by telling him that she was just preparing us for her moody teenage years.

The hardest days were behind us, and we were going to take our beautiful girl home. She still had to be on oxygen for a while longer, but her doctor agreed that it could be done at home. Ethan even named her oxygen tank Ollie the Oxygen. Ethan fell in love with his sister the moment he saw her. Ryan and I were concerned he would freak out at how small she was and seeing her hooked up to all the tubes, but he was able to see past the machines. He sat and told her about his favorite stories that we read to him at bedtime and was excited for when they could read them together.

Big Quinn, as Ethan liked to call her, had to stay in the hospital for several days after the birth. Doctors were able to regulate her blood pressure with medication. She said she felt guilty for not being able to carry the baby to term, and I explained to her that none of what happened was her fault. There was nothing we could have done to prevent it. Ryan and I reiterated that she and Ray would always have a special place in our family, and there weren’t enough words to thank her for all the sacrifices she’d made for our children and us.

“Watch out for that turn,” Ryan said.

I glanced into the rearview mirror and gave him a stern look. “Just because you’re sitting in the back with the kids doesn’t give you permission to be a backseat driver.”

“I just don’t want her to be jostled around too much. She may have passed the car seat test at the hospital, but she still looks like she can slip through these belts.”

“If this is any indication of what an overly protective father of a daughter you will be, I’ll have to lock you in a closet until she gets married.”

“She’s never getting married,” he said. “Isn’t that right, princess. You’re going to live with your daddy forever and ever,” Ryan cooed.

“I want to live with you, too!” Ethan squealed.

“Of course you can, little dude. Someone is going to have to clean our dirty diapers when we’re old,” Ryan said with a laugh.

“Ew, gross, Daddy.”

I joined in Ryan’s laughter. “You all will be handling that on your own since I’ll be locked up in a mental institution because your daddy is going to drive me crazy.”

“What’s a metal place?” Ethan asked.

“It’s a place were they put cray cray people,” Ryan said.

“Papa is cray cray!” Ethan giggled.

Quinn started to make little noises, probably indicating that we were disturbing her slumber. Or she was hungry. Or she pooped.

“We’re almost home, little one, hang in there,” I said, making the final turn onto our street.

We pulled up to our townhouse, and I got out of the car to help Ryan with Quinn and Ethan. Ethan bolted for the door while Ryan carefully unsnapped Quinn’s car seat from the base. She looked like a tiny doll engulfed in the straps of the seat. Ryan dressed her up for her coming home celebration, and even though I originally protested the oversized headband on her head, I had to admit it looked perfect on her.

“Looks like everyone’s here.” Ryan held onto the carrier and walked to the door.

“Are you going to let anyone touch her?” I smiled over at my husband.

“Depends. If they spray themselves down with sanitizer and put on a biohazard suit, I might consider it.”

I shook my head. Our poor daughter—almost two months old and didn’t even understand what she had to look forward to from her protective daddy.

“Don’t think I’m the only one who’s overprotective,” he yelled back at me as he reached the front door.

After I got some of the things from the hospital out of the car, I joined the rest of my family and friends who were waiting for us to get home. Moxie and Miles were there with their kids. Our other good friends Renee and Raj had come with their five-year-old daughter, Samantha, and Ryan’s parents.

Ryan took Quinn out of the car seat and handed her to his mom first. I watched my mother-in-law holding our daughter and felt a twinge of sadness. I wondered if my mother ever cradled me and looked at me the way Linda looked at Quinn.

A few weeks after I’d gone to see her, I got a letter from my mother’s husband. He told me that she passed away and gave me information about where she was buried if I ever changed my mind and wanted to visit her gravesite. I put the information away in my files because there was no way I could predict the future, and it was possible that one day I might change my mind. But at that moment, I felt secure in my decision.

“Hey, you.” Ryan bumped my shoulder with his. “Where did you go? You look like you were a million miles away.”

I grinned and wrapped my arm around his waist, placing a chaste kiss on his temple. “I was just thinking about my family. You, the kids, and all of our crazy friends.”

“I’m not crazy. It’s called mentally unbalanced,” Moxie said as she walked to us, carrying Quinn in her arms.

“There isn’t even a mental disorder that describes you,” Ryan said.

“Well, there is definitely something that describes your daughter and that’s a smelly ass.”

Ryan took Quinn from Moxie. “And here I thought that was your new perfume.
Eau de
hag.” Ryan laughed.

“Oh, Ryan, you’re so funny. Thank God I didn’t rip my ears off all those years ago when I had to listen to you bitch about how your dick was too small and you couldn’t find micro condoms.”

“I can safely say that Ryan would need the extra large pack,” I said, chuckling.

“Gah, don’t hurt my virgin ears!” Moxie covered her ears.

“I think we need to take this one for a diaper change before she kills us all with her toxic fumes,” he said, sniffing Quinn’s bottom.

“Thank you. I don’t want my goddaughter smelling like a horse’s ass.” Moxie winked and walked back over to Miles, who was chatting with Ryan’s dad.

“I’ll come with you,” I said, as I followed him up the stairs toward Quinn’s room.

I opened the door to the room and admired the finished product Ryan had put together. Three of the walls were painted a light pink, and the fourth wall, which her crib was against, was a striking hot pink. A large black Q hung on the wall over her crib, and cherry blossoms were painted on the wall. A dark cherrywood crib, adorned with cream bedding, looked elegant with the dresser, changing table, and glider.

Ryan put Quinn down on the changing table as she started to fuss. “She doesn’t like being out of your arms,” I said.

“She’ll always have a place in them,” he said as he cooed to try to calm her.

He finished changing her, and I picked her up so he could go wash his hands in the bathroom. I carried Quinn over to the glider and sat down, rocking her back and forth as her eyes drifted closed. Ryan came back into the room and stood in front of us. I looked up at him, and his adoring eyes communicated his love for us both.

‘Daddy!” Ethan came bolting into the room. Ryan bent down to scoop him up into his arms and kissed his cheek.

“What’s up, little dude?”

“I miss Quinn,” he said with a little lisp.

“She’s right here.”

“Are you reading her a story?”

“Would you like to read her a story?” I asked.

“Yeah! I choose.” Ethan squirmed out of Ryan’s arms and ran into his room to pick out a book. Ryan sat on the floor next to the glider and Ethan game back into the room, handed me the book, and took his seat in Ryan’s lap.

“
Guess How Much I Love You
, huh?”

“It’s my favorite. Quinn should like it.”

“You know, you’ll never have to guess how much I love you,” I said as I looked at Ryan. He gifted me with his beautiful Ryan smile that had swept me away the first time we met all those years ago by the high school track field.

“I know,” he said. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

“No, Daddy. It’s to the end of the galaxy and back.”

The four of us sat there, my family, trying to think of how far our love could stretch. I didn’t think there would ever be an answer.