The weird thing was? It felt so damn good to let everything out. To let my dad take away some of my pain. And as I squeezed my eyes shut, I heard a voice in my head, and the words made my insides twist even more.
Who was taking away Everly’s pain?
Chapter Twenty-six
Everly
Two weeks passed, and my life, such as it was, returned to some kind of normal. I emailed Trevor a bunch of notes I had on government. I sent him links that I thought he should check out. I even went so far as to send him a practice test and I cc’d his mom as well. (I’m sure he loved that one, but whatever.)
I did all the things that I thought I needed to do, or at least the things I thought I should do. Trevor Lewis might have hurt me, but that didn’t mean I had to let him know it. It was bad enough that I’d gone to his house. Even now, my cheeks burned when I thought of how his mom had looked at me when I came running out of his room, trying to keep from crying.
She’d taken one look at me and threw her arms around me like I was hers. She’d stroked my hair and told me that I needed to go slow with Trevor. He had issues to work through. His brain injury. His seizure. It was a lot, and he hurt people without meaning to.
After a few moments I pulled away, and I told her that everyone had stuff to deal with. Everyone had scars that didn’t show.
She’d asked me if I was going to keep working with him, and I said that I didn’t think so. I was being honest, and I could tell it wasn’t the answer she’d hoped to hear.
That was the last time I saw Mrs. Lewis.
A few days ago, I’d gotten an email from Trevor, but it was obviously an accident since there wasn’t anything in it. No “hello,” no “hey, I miss you, how are things?” There was nothing. And yet I couldn’t help but wonder, had he been thinking of me? Did I care? Stupid question, that, because I cared a lot. Pathetic, I know.
When I was alone at night, huddled beneath the covers, I cared a whole lot. I’d cried so many tears over the past few weeks that I swear my tear ducts were in danger of malfunctioning. I mean, if that was possible.
Trevor had pretty much broken my heart, and my dad had definitely broken my faith, but at least he and I were working on it. Not that it was a slam dunk or anything. Not even close. There’d been days when I couldn’t even look at him because of all the things I didn’t understand. Like, how could he love my mother and have feelings for someone else? It didn’t matter that it was a guy. What mattered was that he’d made a commitment to my mom. A promise. And he’d broken it.
He’d broken it, and he’d been dishonest about the whole thing. That right there had me all kinds of twisted up inside. To me, honesty equals love and respect. So what did that say about my father? What did that say about our family?
I know that love is love. I truly believe that. I also know that I can go to church and believe in a God who understands that. It’s my God and my faith. I mean, how could a God pick and choose who he loves? How does that even make sense?
Sure, my father being gay was a shock. How could it not be? He’s married to my mother. But it’s not the gay thing that makes me angry. And maybe it doesn’t make sense, but I still can’t forgive him for allowing himself to have those kinds of feelings for someone other than my mom.
Right or wrong, that’s what was inside me. That’s what makes things so hard.
He told me everything. How he’d been in love with Kirk Davies since college. How he’d always thought he was different but hadn’t realized it was because he was gay until he met Kirk. He’d just thought he wasn’t into girls or that he hadn’t met the right one yet.
He even told me of the night he’d shared his realization with his parents. Of how his father had beaten him so badly that he’d ended up in the hospital with his jaw wired shut. (I don’t remember my grandparents because they died in a car crash when I was three.)
My dad had lived a lie his whole life because he thought it was what he had to do in order to survive. He wanted to lead a parish. He loved God, and he wanted to help people. To counsel them and be there for his community. But how could he do that if he was outed?
He told me that he loved Mom. Like really loved her. But that there were all kinds of love, and it was different from what he felt for Kirk. It didn’t lessen it or anything, but it wasn’t what she deserved. And still he struggled with the thought of destroying our family, because he loved me and my brother more than life.
He was at a crossroads and wasn’t sure where to turn or what path to take, and I guess I wasn’t much help. Some nights I screamed at him for destroying everything that I loved. And other nights, we talked like real adults. He was honest with me, and I was honest with him.
It didn’t mean that things were fixed. In fact, they were far from it, and it was only going to get worse. But what it did mean was that his honesty was the first step toward healing, and I hoped, it would be enough.
I guess only time would tell.
Just last night, he’d asked me my thoughts on his sermon today. I knew that he was planning on putting himself out there and that it was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. I might only be seventeen years old
, so, you know, my opinion wasn’t exactly worldly or anything, but I told him that I thought living a lie (which is basically what I’d done for the entire year) was kind of cowardly. And that being honest was the bravest thing a person could be.
“Hey, you almost ready?”
It was Sunday, and Hailey had slept over the night before. We’d spent most of it watching Friday Night Lights on Netflix and talking about nothing besides Tim Riggins (most tragic dude ever) and the bitchy Julie (how could she break Matt’s heart?). Hales made me laugh, and we’d drank enough soda and eaten enough chips to feed a small country.
She didn’t mention Link, even though I knew they were still serious, and she sure as heck didn’t mention Trevor. She’d done what she always did; she’d just been there for me.
Today Hailey was breaking code and coming to church with me instead of sleeping in because, well, life as I knew it was about to change, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to hit that upward curve we all dreamed about.