Shattered Beliefs

by Maggie Jane Schuler

  I knew exactly what my next move was, and nobody would stop me. My mother became my hero at that moment, and her battle turned into mine. We’d see it through together and change our lives as planned.

  Seth’s family arrived first.

  “You’re looking good.” His father, Matt, shook my hand and made his way to the kitchen to hug Mom. I nodded without a response.

  “Seth tells me you’ve been busy, but Matt’s right, you’ve certainly been working out in any free minutes you have.” Rachel stood on her tiptoes, and I leaned down as she kissed my cheek and handed me her purse to put on the table near the front door.

  Our moms had been friends since childhood, and they never judged my mom or me for the plight we found ourselves in year after year. In fact, my dad never spent the holidays with us, as football or something else came up. With his parents dying before my mom married him, he never valued or equated us as family beyond legal paper; more of a possession than a deep rooted human connection. I guess it took me until now to realize how abnormal our situation was.

  Matt and Rachel became more of our family as soon as my grandparents were gone. It worked for everyone and was nice since Seth and I were both only children. Brothers by default by now.

  “Where’s Edward?”

  “He’ll be here. I told him to be here about three. I figured it would be less awkward to mill around before food.”

  “Did you tell your mom anything?”

  “Enough.” I held my tongue as Seth rolled his eyes at me.

  The knock on the door wrapped in time with each strike of the grandfather clock in the living room. Another reminder of my grandparents and the hole they left when they departed.

  “Three o’clock, could he be more punctual.” Seth laughed as I walked to the door and opened it to a smiling Edward. He stood with wine in hand, and a dashing grin adorned his cheeks. I studied him from head to toe, memorizing everything I loved about him: his sandy-blond hair, those brilliant blues, the one-sided dimple, his soft natural rose-colored lips, and everything else that made him the perfect human being.

  “Milo, aren’t you going to let your friend in?” My mother gave me a little shove to make room for her. She stood beside me with her Thanksgiving apron covering her autumn leaves dress. She played the part of hostess perfectly, and I hated myself for my next move.

  “Mom, this is Edward. He’s the exchange student Seth and I have been hanging out with. Edward, my mother, Sandra.”

  Edward’s baby blues dimmed, but in his posh style, he recovered quickly. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wilcox.” I watched him flinch and wondered if using her married name in the current circumstance had thrown him. I doubt Mom noticed his discomfort, but I knew him too well. “Milo has told me so much about you. These are for you.” He handed her the wine bottles as she took him by the arm and welcomed him into our home.

  “Please, call me Sandra.”

  “Of course.” Edward bowed to her request.

  “Seth tells me you’re vegan?” Another nail in my coffin spoken by my mother. I should have told her, not Seth. When did Seth talk to my mother to tell her about Edward? I stayed in the entry, contemplating what truths and lies were floating about this room filled with people I considered family.

  “Pescatarian, actually. But I’m not a big foodie.”

  “You eat fish, right?”

  “Yes, and things like milk and eggs are fine.”

  “Well, I can throw on a piece of tuna for you.” My mother always accommodated everyone else.

  “No, I’m sure there will be more than enough vegetables on offer. Dinner smells delicious, Sandra.”

  Seth pulled my shoulder hard and led me away from our mothers, who entertained Edward with questions about what his life was like back home and how he liked being here in Texas.

  Seth spit through his teeth, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What I need to do to save us all.” I sneered at my response. My heart tore with every lie I spilled. But what hurt the most was throughout Thanksgiving Edward held his head high, laughing, and being the respectable man I’d grown to love, and he never laid eyes on me again.

  And I couldn’t blame him as the guilt of my actions ate away at me. After Seth and his parents left, fate saw to putting the final nails in my coffin. Seth offered to drive Edward home, which made sense since the Clayton Wilcox genes stepped up and severed any kind of relationship we might have had.

  “You were quiet tonight?” My mom sprayed the counter with lemon cleaner as I tied up the trash bag.

  “Tired. We were up late.”

  “Your friend is nice. He and Seth seem to have hit it off.”

  Jealousy reared her ugly head, but I swallowed the intrusive lady down and gave my mom a quick, “Mmhmm,” and unlocked the back door.

  It flew open as I turned my head. Staring me in the face stood an angry Clayton Wilcox, clothed from head to toe in black.

  “Back the fuck up.” He roared through the threshold. I stumbled and tripped over the step stool my mother used to reach the upper cabinets, landing on my ass. The trash tossed aside as he approached my mother.

  “Don’t come any closer. You’re violating the restraining order, Clay.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. The move caught me off guard.

  “I’m here to talk.” No slur in his speech scared me more. Could he be sober?

  “Our day in court will happen.” My mother stood tall and didn’t back away.

  I scrambled to my feet, knowing my cell phone sat in its cradle in my bedroom, and I had no way of escaping with him blocking my path to the hallway.

  “Clay, there is a proper time and place for this—”

  “Sandra,” he mocked back at her. “What is this bullshit?” He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket and unfolded it against her face. She never moved.

  The front doorknob snicked, and Seth and Edward walked in. Seth froze, and Edward picked up his coat from the rack, not turning his head until he heard my father’s hand smack the cabinet. A reminder to both of us of the day not too long ago when I punched a hole in his cupboard door.

  “I’ll ask y’all one more time. What’s this bullshit, Sandra?”

  My stoic mother spoke firmly, “It’s a letter not intended for you but for Deborah.”

  Then in Clay fashion, he struck my mother.

  I flew up from the floor and began throwing punches at random to his face and chest.

  He chuckled and caught me under the chin.

  “Oh, now you’ll stand up. I hear you’ve turned into a faggot. Is that true?”

  White heat and flecks filtered through my vision as I staggered and planted my feet ready to throw another left hook. My father reached back, and his arm flew toward my head. I ducked, but the crunch of his fist hitting someone behind me cracked in my ears. Edward stumbled and placed his hand on the cheek my father connected with.

  I let my arms fall, assumed a tackle position, barreled forward, and shoved my father up against the kitchen wall. I stayed wrapped around him—my chest heaving with each breath.

  “Seth, call 911.” My mother screamed out. It never stopped the punches my father delivered to my ribs.

  “You know I have eyes everywhere, boy. You better watch yourself and anyone you care about, even that homo over there. Kissing Hills isn’t outta my territory, son.” I released my grip from his waist and threw a few more hits his way.

  I ignored his inappropriate slurs and continued taking what he had to give, knowing if he hit me, he wasn’t able to touch my mother or anyone else.

  He aimed a few more punches at my ribs, and as the sirens approached, he backed away from me, spit in Edward’s face, and slapped my mother one last time before he slipped back out the back door into the night.

  “Are you alright?” My mother, Seth, and Edward spoke in unison. The metallic flavor of blood coated my tongue.

  “Perfect.” The lights of the squad car flipped red and blue through the fron
t window.

  “How can I help?” Edward’s worried brow sent me into a fit of rage. The last thing I wanted was for my boyfriend to see my world in technicolor. From our discussions, he lived a charmed life, and me—this was the real me. Still, he reached out and gripped my shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed, shrugging his hand away.

  “I just want to help.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. “Please, Milo.”

  Pistons fired in his brain, trying to work out his next move, but in true dick mode, I lashed out one final time.

  This time with an eerie, calm to my tone, “I don’t need your fucking pity, Edward.” I backed away from him before I delivered my final insult, the one I knew would mean the end of us. “Keep your queer hands to yourself and get the fuck out.” I pointed at the door where an officer spoke to my mother, and he turned in silence and walked out of my life through the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Edward

  Fort Worth had held little interest for me since Thanksgiving.

  It wasn’t a day I would look back on fondly, but it taught me a valuable lesson. Never again would I give my heart to another man.

  After a quick call to my father, and the promise of continuing my education on UK soil, the family jet was en-route to bring me home.

  Waving goodbye to Kissing Hills was hardly a wrench. Yes, I felt settled in this quaint gated community, but without Milo, my life existed devoid of all colour. I craved familiar surroundings without the risk of bumping into him.

  Hilary packed the last of my clothes into the empty Louis Vuitton suitcase. Anything missed would be couriered to me at a later date. The only thing left behind would be my faith and trust in love. “I think that is everything.” I surveyed the room. It was a mess, but my faithful housekeeper would attend to it.

  “I will miss you, Edward.”

  Her calling me by my Christian name meant a lot. “I shall miss you, too, Hilary, but we can stay in touch.” These were not empty words. Over time we had built a bond that surpassed employer and employee. “We will see one another again, plus you are still needed here to keep the house clean until I decide what to do with it. At least you won’t have to pick up my mess in the meantime.”

  “It won’t be the same without you.”

  I held out my arms, and she stepped into my embrace. “You have been a good friend, Hilary.” I squeezed her tight.

  Overcome with emotion, she rushed out of the room while I took a last look around.

  My phone buzzed. I didn’t dare hope it would be Milo. He made his feelings crystal clear.

  Staring at the screen, Logan’s name flashed up.

  I wasn’t in the mood to talk but answered anyway. “What do you want?”

  Thanks to Seth and their pillow talk, Logan knew he had been rumbled, but this was the first time he had plucked up the courage to call.

  “If you need a friend, I’m here.” So, Seth filled him in on every tiny detail.

  I forced a laugh. “You’re joking, surely?”

  “I know, Ed, but there wasn’t any malice. It was stupid talk, that’s all.”

  Why was I mad with Logan? Nothing he said to Seth and vice versa had caused Milo to dump me unceremoniously in the way he did. “I don’t care anymore.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At home, packing.”

  “You’re leaving?” I noted the alarm in his voice.

  “Tonight, yes.”

  “Were you gonna say goodbye?”

  “Probably not, but now I can.”

  “Can I drive over?”

  “What for? I’m not the best company right now.”

  “Look, I won’t go into it, but Milo is a dick for what he did to you. Even Seth’s, what is it you Brits say…umm, peed off with him and those two are thick as thieves, as you so often told me.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Milo.”

  “Okay, okay.” I noted desperation in his tone. “Please let me see you and apologise face to face. C’mon, Ed, please, my conscience is killing me man.”

  “I’m leaving in two hours so your choice.”

  I heard a door close. “I’m gettin’ into my truck now.”

  Sadness threatened to engulf me as I watched Hilary drive away in her brand-new SUV.

  At Logan’s insistence, I’d cancelled the limousine booked to take me to the airport. He waited for me in his truck as I stole one last glance about the place. Then I was done.

  I turned the key in the lock, putting my experiences here in the ground and covering them with dirt, but my escape wasn’t to be that easy.

  I looked at my phone. The jet had landed.

  “Hello.” I heard her shrill voice before spotting her rushing across the street.

  Without knowing why, I quickly clicked the voice record button on my phone. “Deidra, what a pleasant surprise.” I turned and fixed the fakest of smiles on my face. “What can I do for you?”

  “As neighbourhood watch coordinator—”

  I cut across her. “Local gossip you mean.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Why she insisted on this charade was a mystery. Everybody in Kissing Hills had been on the receiving end of this old bag sticking her nose into their business but thankfully this was my last dance with her.

  “Can you make this quick, I am in a rush.”

  “Like I said before you so rudely interrupted me…”

  “Assuming it is any of your business, I’m heading to England for a small holiday, a family visit, you know the score.” I certainly wasn’t about to divulge the truth to this old trout. “Don’t worry, Deidre, you haven't seen the last of me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. I rejoiced inside how calling her by the wrong name lit fires of fury within her. “How long will you be gone for?”

  “My itinerary is none of your business, now is that all?”

  She reminded me of a dog with a bone and wouldn’t give up easily. “If you don’t mind me saying, you’re carrying a lot of luggage for a small holiday.”

  There was so much I wanted to say to this interfering harridan. “Individuals of my breeding and social standing never wear the same outfit more than once…” She looked fit to burst. “Having observed me from behind your curtains for God knows how many months, surely you know that already?”

  “Well…” Was she speechless, for once in her lifetime?

  “For the benefit of the neighbourhood watch, I shall return to this itty-bitty little corner of the world when I am good and ready, and not before.”

  “Don’t rush back.” The real Deidra Warren finally stood up. “Your kind don’t fit in here.”

  “My kind?” I stifled a laugh. This wasn’t my first foray into blatant homophobia. Hell, I even sported a bruise from Clayton Wilcox for loving his son.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, Deidre, come on, I insist we do this properly.” I would not be run out of town without standing my ground. “What kind would you be talking about?” I stood tall and puffed out my chest. “Wealthy, handsome, well-travelled…which is it?”

  “Queers, deviants,” she snarled, dropping her voice. Her words did not come as a surprise. “This was a much sought-after neighbourhood until you and your kind showed up.”

  “So, we finally get to the root of your dislike of me.” As if I hadn’t already guessed.

  Her face twisted with contained rage. “Absolute filth, every last one of you.” Her eyes danced wild with fury. “Marching about dressed like circus freaks, demanding equal rights…”

  “And why shouldn’t we?” This was an age-old fight I would not win because nothing I said would change her opinion of the gay community.

  “Your kind should burn in hell.”

  I’d taken about as much as I was willing to from her. Now toe to toe, she had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. “Listen to me, you rancid, snivelling sack of shit…”

  “How dare you speak to me with that tone?”

  “It’s not nice whe
n the shoe is on the other foot, is it?”

  “I won’t be lectured by a faggot.”

  “You’re sick, twisted, and I’ll be glad to see the back of you. But before I do…” I stepped back and scoured the front garden for what I wanted. I could see Logan observing our exchange.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  I bent down, picked up the rock and rushed across the street, standing outside her front window. Launching the rock, it crashed through her window.

  “You’ll pay for that.”

  “Send me the bill, bitch.”

  “I shall call the police and report your threatening behaviour.”

  “Do you worst, Deidre.” I held my phone up, hit rewind, and listened back to her vile diatribe. She was stunned into silence. “I have everything I need right here and as soon as I get to where I am going, this will be forwarded to the local police. Good luck getting out of this one. Hate crimes are taken seriously nowadays, especially with taped evidence and a witness to hand.” I pointed to Logan who waved and smiled. “Now get out of my way, you disgusting old witch. I shall see you in court.” I stepped around her, not giving her a chance to reply. Jumping into Logan’s truck, I was eager to get out of there. “Drive.”

  “She’s some piece of work.”

  “I think I made my feelings about her clear.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  I had no intention of doing anything with the recording, but it had struck fear right into the heart of Deidra bloody Warren. Not knowing when that knock on the door would come was punishment enough. “Take me to the airport please.”

  “Are you sure you want to go straight there?”

  “Where else am I going to go?”

  “Milo will be at Nick’s right now.”

  “So what?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to say goodbye?”

  “That is the last thing I want to do.”

  To Logan’s credit, he didn’t try to force me into this sojourn. He knew I needed closure, but left to me, I would have boarded the jet without one last look at the man who ground my heart into the dirt.

  “Not so close, please.” As my anxiety reached fever pitch, Logan pulled his truck to a stop a few feet away from Nick’s and cut the engine. “Milo can’t see me lurking.”