by Witt, L. A.
“And I want to be there for . . .” I watched my hands wringing in my lap. “I’m just confused, I guess.”
“Well, sit down and talk to him. Maybe spend some time talking about his past. If his parents did this to him, they’ve probably treated him like shit for being a shifter.”
I nodded slowly. “They have a pretty bad relationship, that much I know.”
“Doesn’t surprise me, especially if they pulled this stunt. The more you understand about that, the more it’ll make sense why Alex didn’t tell you before that she was a shifter.”
“You’re probably right.”
“When will you have a chance to talk to him again?”
“Don’t know.” I pursed my lips. “We got into it this morning, and I left.”
“You what?”
I smoothed the air with both hands. “We’ll work it out. It was just a spat. I left before it—”
“Damon.” She shot me a pointed look. “Whatever it was, you need to settle it sooner rather than later so you can both deal with more important matters.”
I avoided her understandably accusing eyes. “We’ll talk tonight.”
“Good.”
“Well, thanks for the pep talk,” I said with a weak smile. “I guess I should go pretend to be gainfully employed for a few hours.”
Jordan laughed. “Yeah, me too. And anytime, baby. You need to talk about this, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks.” I got up and turned to go, but she stopped me.
“One more thing, D.” When I turned back, she said, “It says a lot that Alex stayed with you this long even when she was afraid to tell you what she was.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most of us can’t be bothered to keep up that charade in a relationship for longer than a few months. Work and friends are one thing, but not in a relationship.” She paused. “In this day and age, it’s easier to find a mate who knows and understands instead of wasting months or years with someone who will quite possibly leave once they find out.”
I furrowed my brow. “So, what are you saying?”
“I’m suggesting that you must mean a lot to Alex,” she said softly. “She kept who she was quiet because who you were was worth it.”
1:17 p.m. Twenty-four hours and forty-three minutes until my appointment with the neurosurgeon. Twenty-four hours and forty-three minutes that couldn’t go by fast enough.
I tapped my thumbs on the sides of my cup, watching the ripples disturb the surface of my untouched coffee. The only warmth left in the ceramic mug was from my hands; the coffee had long since cooled. I didn’t even know why I’d ordered it except to justify sitting at this booth. Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered it. Then the waitress might have thrown me out of the diner, and I’d have had an excuse not to be here.
On the other side of the gleaming white table, the bench was vacant. According to my watch, it wouldn’t be that way for long.
I’d been here for almost an hour. It was much easier to persuade myself to go through with this if I was already here rather than at home, pacing back and forth with every reason not to drive halfway across town for coffee I didn’t want with the last woman in the world I wanted to see.
Staying home also meant being close to my laptop. The temptation was nearly irresistible to google this implant, its potential side effects, and what it took to get it removed. Of course I believed in doing my homework before having any kind of surgery, but I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth first. No horror stories, urban legends, or false hope.
So here I was.
The clang of sleigh bells turned my stomach, and the air pressure changed with the opening of the diner’s front door. Just one conversation. I can do this.
Steeling myself, I looked over my shoulder.
My heart dropped.
As I expected, my mother had arrived. Her presence had my chest tightening with the expected mix of anger and nerves, but it was the person who walked in behind her that startled me.
When my mother and I had spoken earlier, I’d agreed to meet her on the condition that my stepfather didn’t come with her. She knew it wasn’t beneath me to walk out if that asshole showed up.
Neither of us had mentioned my younger sister.
Shuffling through the diner behind our mother, Candace was every inch the teenage punk, from her raggedy jeans and well-worn rock band T-shirt to her black and purple hair. Her clothes were just snug enough to make me envy how comfortable she was in her own skin. She dressed like she had nothing to hide. A little extra weight here and there? Oh, well.
Our mother must have loved Candace’s hair: shaved on one side, the rest either spiked or flipped to the other side. How my sister had gotten away with hair like that in my parents’ house, I had no idea, though knowing her, she might’ve threatened to get a tattoo if they didn’t back down about her hair. Candace never had been one to take our parents’ crap. I envied her for that.
She kept her eyes down as she slid into the booth ahead of our mother. Even the fringe of purple hair hanging in front of her face didn’t hide her scowl. It was hard to tell if this was just a typical teenage attitude or contempt toward a brother she’d been taught to despise.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I asked, forcing some playfulness into my voice.
Candace’s lips tightened, and she just stared out the window.
Our mother folded her hands on the table. “I felt this was important enough that she could miss a day.”
“This is between you and me,” I said through clenched teeth.
“This is a family issue, and she’s as much a part of this family as you are.”
I laughed dryly. “Gary’s tropical fish are more members of the family than I am. I hope Candace has a better position on that particular totem pole.”
My mother glared at me. Then her expression relaxed a little, and she changed the subject. “How are you feeling?”
“Ever heard of a spinal headache?” I growled.
She winced. “Yes, I had one after I had Candace. From the epidural.”
“Then I don’t need to tell you how much they suck. Especially after two solid days.” I gritted my teeth. “Fortunately, my boyfriend showed up and got me to the hospital so I could have it taken care of.”
She stiffened slightly at the reference to Damon. “I’d have been there to take you to the hospital if you hadn’t thrown me out.”
“Then it was worth waiting for him.” I held my coffee cup tighter. “And thanks for putting me in a position to have him find out like that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If you lied to him, don’t blame me.”
“It was my business what he knew and when he knew it,” I snapped. “And now I might lose him over it.”
“Then perhaps this implant has solved two problems.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Her expression was icy, and after a few seconds of eye contact, I read between the lines.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “Right, because God forbid I be gay, too. You do realize Damon only knew me as a woman, right? The only reason we’re in this situation is—”
“And when would you have told him the truth?”
My cheeks burned. Over and over, I’d kicked myself for keeping it from Damon just a little too long. “In my own time. Right or wrong, it wasn’t your decision to make.” I clung to my coffee cup again. “And what about going back to work? How am I supposed to handle that?”
“Should’ve thought of that before you pretended to be something you’re not.”
I released a sharp breath. I desperately wanted to lash out and let my mother have it, but Candace was here. She’d witnessed far too much of the hostility between our parents and me, and having her here as a captive audience tempered my anger. Or at least my displays of anger.
Keeping my voice a hell of a lot calmer than I felt, I said, “I wasn’t pretending anything. I am a man, I am a woman. End of story. It
wasn’t your place to force me to out myself to people I wasn’t ready to tell.”
“Your dad and I—”
“My stepdad,” I snarled. “Gary is not, and never will be, my father.”
“Be that as it may, he is my husband, and as far as he’s concerned, my children are his children. He cares about the two of you like you were his own flesh and blood.”
“Now that I’m human in his eyes, you mean?”
“Stop it, Jason.”
Rage boiled in my chest. “My name. Is. Alex.”
“Not anymore.” She glared at me the way she’d done when I’d misbehaved as a child. “You are a proper static now, so you need to let this nonsense go.”
I pushed away my neglected coffee with both hands. “Forget it. I’m out of here.” I started to get up.
“Wait.” She reached for my arm but didn’t grab on. “Please, don’t go. Let’s talk.” She swallowed. “Alex, please.”
I hesitated. Then I took my seat again.
“I understand this is hard,” she said softly. “It’s not something I ever thought would be easy, but I promise, I only wanted what’s best for you.”
I exhaled and stared into my cold coffee. That statement alone was why I’d agreed to see her, why I hadn’t yet brought myself to file a police report. Why I couldn’t bring myself to hate her.
Mom went on. “Do you really think we did this to hurt you?”
“No,” I whispered. “I know you didn’t.” I forced myself to look her in the eye. “But I don’t think you can quite fathom how much it did hurt me.”
She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry if you feel that way, but it will be better for you in the long run.”
“How can you say that?” The anger didn’t want to be contained now, but I bit it back anyway. “How can you possibly know?”
“Do you want to end up like your father?”
I stiffened. “An implant wouldn’t have saved Dad.”
Candace fidgeted, glaring at whatever held her gaze on the other side of the window. She batted the fringe of purple hair out of her eyes, but refused to look at either of us.
“It would have helped him,” my mother said, oblivious to my sister’s discomfort. “Being what you are and he was, it’s not healthy.”
“No, listening to everyone in the world tell me what a freak I am isn’t healthy. An implant wouldn’t have changed who he was any more than it’s changed who I am.” My voice tried to break when I added, “Being a shifter would never have killed me, and it didn’t kill Dad.”
“It wouldn’t have killed you?” Her voice was suddenly unsteady and edged with anger. “Is that why I found my thirteen-year-old son on the bathroom floor with an empty pill bottle?”
I flinched. So did Candace.
Mom stabbed a finger in my direction. “Don’t tell me you tried to kill yourself because Gary and I were trying to fix you.” More fury crept into her voice. “We didn’t even know what you were then.”
“You didn’t know, but I did,” I threw back. “And I’d heard all the things you and Gary said about Dad. All of which were bullshit, and you know it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What your aunt told you about your father was a lie.”
“Was it?” I met her glare. “So he made it into his forties as a shifter but suddenly decided it bothered him, and then offed himself over it? Coincidentally a year after he was forbidden to see his children?”
Candace folded her arms across her chest and focused harder on whatever was outside. God, it killed me to have her witness this conversation. They’d undoubtedly taught her to loathe the ground I walked on, so my presence probably repulsed her as much as it did my stepfather.
This was probably the last chance I’d have to have this conversation, though. I didn’t think I could stomach another attempt at smoothing things out with my mother, so it was now or never.
I’m so sorry, Candy. Someday I hope you can forgive me for all of this.
I wrung my hands. “Mom, I don’t know what I can do to convince you that Gary, your pastor, all these people, they’re wrong about shifters. And you’re all wrong about this implant.”
“What do you mean? It made you static, as you should be.”
I shook my head. “No. No, it didn’t. My genders are up here.” I tapped my temple with one finger. “Being a shifter just means I can adjust my body to match.”
“That’s nonsense. You were born a boy. You’re a man.”
“Sometimes, yes.”
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, but before she could speak, I said, “What is so wrong with shifting? There’s nothing in your Bible about us. We’re not hurting anyone.”
“The Bible talks about men, and it talks about women.” She gave an indignant sniff. “It does not discuss people who can switch back and forth like they’re changing clothes.”
“Then how can you be sure there’s anything wrong with us?” I fought to keep my voice close to neutral. “You do know there’s a theory that one of the Apostles was—”
“Watch yourself,” she snarled. “That’s blasphemy.”
“Why? Because you don’t want to hear it? It’s not my theory, Mom.”
Without turning her gaze away from the window, my sister spoke in a flat tone, “Jesus also hung out with a prostitute.”
“Which is debatable in and of itself,” I said. “But if Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, she wasn’t born that way.” I looked at my mother. “God didn’t make her a prostitute.”
“And sin made you what you were,” she said. “But you’re not anymore.”
I exhaled. “Do you really think it’s that simple? You have some crackpot doctor put a chip in my back, and suddenly I’m magically static? It doesn’t change what’s in my head.”
“Which is why I think you need help.” She was almost pleading now. “You need to see a therapist, and you need to do a lot of praying. What you were isn’t right.”
I gritted my teeth. “Whether or not we can agree if shifting is right or wrong, it was my decision to make, not yours.”
“You are ill, Jason. You have been for a long time.” Her eyes darted toward my arms. Then she looked at me again and raised an eyebrow.
I self-consciously folded my arms on the edge of the table, hiding the silvery hash marks that scored the insides of my wrists and forearms. “What you did was illegal. Don’t you realize you and Gary could go to prison for this?”
“What we did was right. If you want to press charges against us, go ahead, but we’re right in God’s eyes.” She set her jaw. “Before you do, though, I hope you’ll think about the consequences.” Her eyes flicked toward Candace, then back to me.
My blood turned cold. So that was why my sister was here. Mom knew my weakness, my Achilles’ heel. I’d been the protective older brother—or sister, at times—since Candace was born when I was nine. They’d forbidden me from seeing her for the last three years unless I agreed to get the implant, and more than once, it had almost worked.
If there was any leverage in the world that could persuade me for or against anything, it was my sister.
Go ahead, have us arrested, my mother said silently. If you really want your sister to spend her last two years of high school bouncing around the foster system. We’re all she has unless you take us away from her. Is that what you want, Jason?
Mom, I swear to God, I will never forgive you for this.
When she spoke again, her voice had hardened. “I did what I had to do, and one day, you’ll understand that. I’m your mother. I only want what’s best for you.”
And yet you’ll use one of your children as a weapon against the other. “You’re my mother, but you sure as hell haven’t behaved like it since you found out what I am.”
“I most certainly have. I’ve—”
“Have you? You stripped me down to nothing but a faulty, nonhuman thing that needs to be repaired.”
“That isn’t true. And if I have treated you that way,
then I’m sorry. You’re my son. I want us to be a family again.” She rested an arm around Candace’s shoulders. “All of us.”
My sister’s lips tightened, but she stayed silent.
“A family?” I forced back the lump that rose in my throat. “It’s too late for that.” I got up and pulled out my wallet.
“Jason—Alex, where are you going?”
“Hell, apparently.” I threw a couple of dollar bills on the table to cover the coffee I’d never touched. “Good-bye, Candace.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, my sister met my gaze. There was no expression in hers. No contempt, no sympathy. No anger, no sadness. Nothing. There was barely any recognition. My heart sank a little deeper. Three years and a lifetime of indoctrination, and I was a stranger to her now.
I turned to go.
“Alex, please, I only did what was best for you,” Mom called after me. “I didn’t want to see you tormented in this life or the next.”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder. “Well, you know what they say about the road to hell.”
And I walked out.
Instead of going home, I drove over to the bar where I worked nights. I was a couple hours early for my shift, but I didn’t care. I needed to be here so bad I could taste it.
When I walked into the Welcome Mat, the familiar lights, sounds, and smells of the club shook some of the knots out of my shoulders. Any time life had me wound up—whether because of my parents, my day job, or being shoehorned into a static world—this place calmed me down. Today, more than ever, I needed that calming effect, and the club came through.
The Welcome Mat certainly lived up to its name. Everyone was welcome here. Gay. Straight. Bisexual. Asexual. Male. Female. Trans. Shifter. Static. Anyone and everyone, and Tabitha allowed staff members to eject patrons who were being assholes for any reason. The cops didn’t help much, but we had some of the burliest bouncers on the planet with no patience for bigotry. Needless to say, people behaved here. Those who didn’t were gone before they ruined anyone else’s fun.
This place was my sanctuary.
Colin, one of the other bartenders, looked up from drying a glass. “Hey, Alex. You’re early.”