by Eden Finley
“Does that pay well? Living in the big city, it’s exciting but expensive, right?” And this just got weirder. She’s never been interested in my life as far back as I can remember.
Her hand lands on top of mine, and my eyes focus on the millions of silvery rings she has. She has about three on each finger.
Yup. Nutcase.
“It pays enough.”
“Your mom tells me you’re seeing a nice boy.”
Right. “Yeah. His name is Damon.” I wonder when I should tell them all we “broke up.” I would’ve done it already had I not been keeping hope. He didn’t want me to hook up with Noah last week. No matter how many times I tell myself not to read into that, I can’t help wondering. Although at the baseball game, I thought we were about to kiss, and he pulled back. Again.
Women are right; guys are so much harder to understand.
“As long as he’s taking care of you.”
“He’s great.” I’m not lying. Damon is great, but the words feel thick on my tongue.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve come to see you.”
“Little bit.” Or a lot. Whatever.
“Dinner’s ready,” Mom calls out from the kitchen.
Aunt Cheri smiles. “Better get to it then.”
Mom and Dad are already sitting at the dining table when we walk in, each of them staring at Cheri with an intensity I can’t decipher.
“Okay, can someone please tell me what’s going on?” I ask, taking my seat.
“Maybe Cheri can explain,” Dad says.
“Well,” Aunt Cheri says. She takes a napkin and lays it on her lap. “I have some news. Some not great news. And I wanted … I mean, I think it’s time to …”
Dad’s fork clatters to his plate. “I was worried you’d try to pull something like this. Calling us out of the blue to let us know you need to speak to Maddox.”
“I’m still lost over here,” I say. Something like knowing ticks in the back of my brain, but I think—no, I hope—I’m jumping to the wrong conclusion.
“Maybe it’s time,” Mom whispers. “We always planned to tell him eventually. But then we kept putting it off and putting it off.”
“Putting what off?” I ask, more convinced I know what’s coming. I stare at my mother, her grey hair that was once dark. My dad’s dark eyes, and then Cheri’s blue eyes staring at me … Oh, fuck.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Aunt Cheri says, “but, I’m your mother.”
“Biological mother,” Mom corrects.
You’d think with that type of bombshell my mind would be racing. I wait for the irrationality to hit me, but it doesn’t come. All I can think about is all those times I felt like I didn’t belong. Or how I look nothing like my family. I thought of ridiculous theories like being switched at birth, but being adopted? Never even crossed my mind.
I begin to wonder if I’m completely oblivious or just a dumbass. Maybe both. An oblivious dumbass.
Yup, that’s me.
“Who’s my father?” my mouth asks. I didn’t realize my brain was heading in that direction.
Aunt … Mom Cheri? Nope, too weird. I don’t care if I carry her DNA, she’s not my mom. My mom’s my mom … No. My aunt’s my mom? Fuck, I need another beer. Or a drawing of my family tree, because I’m confused.
Cheri avoids eye contact as she answers, “I don’t know. It was a one-night stand at a rave.”
Classy, my birth mother.
Jesus Christ. Birth mother.
“Maddy, are you okay?” Mom asks.
I nod but stare at the plate of food in front of me. My appetite’s gone, and my throat is dry.
“Life is a bit shit right now,” Aunt Cheri says, “and I realized I don’t want to leave this Earth without knowing the boy I gave birth to. I don’t want to—”
“Leave this Earth?” I ask.
She sighs. “A few years ago, I was diagnosed with MS.”
Mom gasps. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I was barely symptomatic,” Cheri says. “I thought if I ignored it I wouldn’t have to face it. But now …” She stares down at her hand which shakes with a small tremor. “It’s advanced far in a few short years—faster than average—and I don’t know how long I have before it takes away my ability to do the things I want. I want …” She breathes deep. “My highest priority is to get to know Maddox.”
“I-I … uh, umm …” I stutter.
“You don’t have to agree to anything right now,” Mom says. “You’ve been hit with some big news.”
“Is this something I could inherit?” Again, my mouth asks questions I don’t realize I’m contemplating. At least some part of my brain is functioning.
“It’s not a hereditary disease,” Cheri says. “Although, you are at a higher risk of developing it because of me.”
“Is there a test or something I could get?”
“No. They can test your probability of developing it, but it’s invasive and the results aren’t conclusive. MS isn’t caused by a single gene. It’s got a lot of factors to it.”
“Maddy,” Mom says, “You might want to look at the bigger picture. Do you have any questions for us? About why—”
I shake my head. “Crazy Aunt Cheri didn’t want to keep me, and you guys took me in. Not much to say, is there?”
Cheri frowns. “It wasn’t like that. I knew you would be better off with your mom and dad. They already had Jacie, and they’re great parents, and—”
“I know they’re great parents,” I say through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t known something was missing. I don’t belong here. I never did. Now, what, you suddenly care and have a conscience because you’re sick? I’m twenty-three years old. Where were you when I was growing up when I could’ve used the truth about who I am and where I come from?”
“Maddy,” Mom says, her voice full of sadness.
“Sorry.” Only, I’m not sorry. “This is a lot to handle right now. I need to …” I stand. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”
Footsteps trail after me as I storm through the house to the front door. I expect it to be Mom or Cheri, but a firm hand lands on my shoulder.
“Let me drive you,” Dad says.
I look into his brown eyes and don’t like what I see. Fear. “I’m not going back to New York, Da. I just need some space. A friend of mine is staying at the motel. I’ll go there and cool off—come back in the morning.”
“Still let me drive you.”
All I can do is nod and pick up my bag as I follow him out to the garage.
The drive is literally ten minutes long, so Dad doesn’t waste time getting to the point. “We did plan to tell you, but we didn’t know how.”
The laugh that escapes me is almost hysterical. “I understand. More than you know. I’m … uh … I’m not gay.”
I don’t know what possesses me to come clean now. Some act of childish revenge maybe? They lied to me for twenty-three years, so they deserve the same? I probably shouldn’t have said it, but it’s out there now.
Dad slams on the brakes. “You’re not what?”
“I said it to break up with Chastity, and then suddenly the whole town knew. I didn’t mean for it to get that far, but I didn’t correct anyone. I had to decide between letting the town think I was gay or an asshole. And to be honest, I never cared people thought I was gay.”
It’s Dad’s turn to laugh manically. “Oh my God, that’s gold. You’re straight? But Damon …”
“Ah, no, not entirely straight, but I’m not gay. Definitely not gay. College was—”
“Don’t need to tell your old man the details.”
I laugh. “Well, up until I met Damon, I was ninety-nine percent sure I was straight. He came home with me as a favor, because both Chastity and Mom were on my case about my boyfriend who didn’t exist.”
“Well, I’m not going to be the one to tell your mother. She loves Damon. Wouldn’t shut up about him for a week after you left.
”
“I thought you’d be pissed I lied to you guys.”
“I don’t like that you thought you couldn’t come to us, but, well, we don’t have the option of being hypocrites here. And you know us—we love you no matter what. We didn’t care when we found out you were into lads, and I don’t care now. No matter who you end up with. Man, woman, woman who used to be a man …”
I chuckle. “Could happen.”
“We just want you to be happy. It’s all any parent wants.” Dad pulls up to the motel. “And that’s what we are. We’re still your parents. Take all the time you need but try not to let your mother worry too much. We barely see you as it is; I don’t want this to come between us and you more.”
“Wait, you think I needed to get out of there because of you? Fuck no. Da, I’m confused and feel rejected but not by you or Mom. I wish you told me sooner, but you couldn’t know how I’d react. Can you tell Mom I’m not mad at her? I just …”
“Need to process everything. That’s the reason we kept putting off telling you. We didn’t want to put you out or confuse you. We almost told you when you were eighteen, but then you came out, and we figured it wasn’t the time. Don’t exactly want your kid to say “I’m gay” and then turn around and tell him he’s adopted. From there, it was never the right time. Maybe we should’ve ripped the Band-Aid off when you were a teenager.”
“Maybe Cheri should have realized being sick isn’t an excuse to finally face a responsibility she should’ve dealt with ages ago.”
Dad opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off.
“I’m not saying I hated the way you raised me or you’re bad parents, but this revelation gives me answers to questions I’ve been asking myself for years. And now it’s convenient for her, she wants to get to know me? It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”
Dad purses his lips. “Take your time in dealing with this, but we don’t know how advanced her condition is, so keep in mind you don’t want to become Cheri. Don’t leave it until it’s too late.”
“I’ll literally be back in the morning, Da.”
He nods, but I don’t think he believes me. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
Matt’s Lambo is the only car in the parking lot of the motel, so I head straight to the room it’s outside of.
Matt peers through the thin curtain to check who’s knocking before he opens the door. “That was fast.”
“You have no idea. I’m crashing with you tonight.” I push my way into his room. “Sweet, two beds.”
“What am I missing?”
“My family dropped a pretty big bombshell on me, and I don’t want to deal with it.”
“There’s a minibar if you need it.”
“I think I need to be sober to deal with this one. You know how growing up the ultimate sibling insult was ‘You’re adopted’?”
“I may’ve said that a lot to my younger brothers and sisters.”
“My sister never made that joke. She’s eight years older than me. Turns out, she couldn’t throw that in my face, because it’s actually true.”
Matt’s eyes widen. “Oh shit. You just found out?”
“My aunt is my mother and my mother is my aunt.”
“Fuck that.”
Yeah. He said it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DAMON
My head slumps on my desk. Criminal adjudication will be the death of my degree. All I need is a pass, but it’s not sinking in. It’s not even a subject I’ll use, but I need it to graduate.
Seven weeks. Seven.
My phone dings, and I’ve never been happier for the interruption. Only, when I see it’s a text from Stacy with the thumbnail of an article about Matt Jackson, my heart sinks. Something tells me I don’t want to open that link.
Another message comes through.
Stacy:
You fucked it up.
Yeah, I did. Like a masochist, I click on what she sent me, and sure enough, photos of Maddox shirtless and opening the door to a shitty roadside motel are splashed all over the same rag site that outed Matt. Maddox is with Matt. In his hometown.
“Guess I know why he didn’t want me to come home with him this weekend,” I mutter to myself.
And the thing is, I can’t even hate him for it. Or blame him. I had my chance, and I pushed him away. We aren’t together; he can do whatever he wants. I told him to go experiment with guys, so I can’t be pissed that he’s doing it.
But I am pissed, even if I don’t have the right to be.
My fingers hover over his name in the texting app. I shouldn’t text. I should leave him alone. Freakishly, with his text window open, he messages me.
Maddox:
Can we set up a time this week to meet? I have something I need to talk to you about.
And just like that, I squash the masochist in me. I don’t want to meet up with Maddox so he can tell me he’s with Matt. Seen the photos, thanks.
Damon:
Finals are kicking my ass. Sorry.
Maddox:
It’s important.
Damon:
So are finals.
I try to tell myself the photos might not mean what I think they mean, but Maddox half-naked in a motel room with his ex? Pretty sure it’s exactly what it looks like.
***
Another week of school over, six more to go, but I’m burned out on studying. So when Noah sends a text with an invite to have a pizza and beer night at his house, I only hesitate for a few minutes before agreeing.
I need a break. If I try to memorize anything else for my upcoming exams, I think I’ll be pushing old information out. Like how to walk and talk properly. I’m at serious risk of turning into a bumbling crazy person who talks in nothing but legislative laws.
I find Wyatt and Noah in Noah’s living room, drinking and playing video games. I have no idea which game, but they’re shooting people; COD, WOW, OMG—who knows. I wasn’t born with the gamer gene.
“Thank fuck,” I say when my friend Aron appears with a beer for me.
“Hi to you too,” he says. “First, you don’t invite me to meet your boy toy, and now you don’t even say hi?”
Aron’s one of the guys I purposefully didn’t invite a few weekends ago because he’s way too hot with his killer smile and would love Maddox.
“Maddox isn’t my boy toy,” I grumble. That honor belongs to Matt-fucking-Jackson. They’ve been in more tabloids this week. Apparently, Matt’s in New York now. Not that I’ve been stalking them in the news or anything …
“Maddox wouldn’t hook up with me because of Damon,” Noah says without taking his eyes off the screen. “Yet, Damon still found a way to fuck it up.”
“Well done, man.” Aron claps me on the back.
“Fuck you very much.”
When Skylar walks through the entrance and our eyes lock, she bites her lip and looks away. I’m about to ask if she’s okay when Maddox trails in behind her. With him.
Great. Just great.
Matt’s got his head down, but he’s wearing a Bulldogs cap. Way to stay incognito, man.
Skylar approaches and hugs me hello, so I lower my head and whisper in her ear. “Traitor.”
“You told me to be friends with him, and that’s what I’m doing.”
Maddox approaches and playfully shoves me. “You’ve been avoiding me again, Dik.”
I wonder if he’s using my nickname or actually calling me a dick. I’ll pretend it’s the former, but I can’t be sure. “Busy.” More beer goes down my throat, and then I watch my bottle intently.
Interesting, it’s a brew from Staten Island. Good to know.
Out of the corner of my eye, Maddox frowns. “Uh, well, are you too busy to meet Matt?” He pulls Matt forward. “I brought him here specifically to meet you.”
Huh? “Why?” I scowl.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Matt says to Maddox. “Just drop it, okay? I should go back to the hotel.”
Yeah, yo
u should. I suppose I should feel sympathy toward him with what he’s going through, but oops, can’t find any fucks to give.
“No,” Maddox says. He turns to the group. “Everyone, this is Matt. Be nice.” Then his blue eyes bore into me. Their usual crystal clarity is dulled by a stormy grey. “Damon, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Nah, I’m cool here.” Being an asshole sucks.
“I’m sorry,” Maddox says sarcastically, “that wasn’t a request.”
“Oooh, someone’s in trouble,” Noah singsongs. “Take him upstairs. First door on your right.”
“Thanks,” Maddox says and grabs my forearm. I hand off my beer to Aron as I’m dragged into Noah’s guestroom—a room I’ve crashed in many times when I couldn’t be bothered going home. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Maddox yelling. This is new.
“Nothing.”
“Really? So, you’re sticking to the you’ve been busy lie? At least when you were avoiding me a few weeks ago, you gave excuses. This past week has been radio silence.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Surprised you’ve noticed with all the time you’ve been spending with Matt. The tabloids love you guys. You’re going to be the it couple of football.”
“What has Matt got to do with it?” His eyes widen. “Wait, are you jealous? Mr. You-Should-Hook-Up-With-Everyone-Except-Me doesn’t like that I’m spending time with another guy?” He breaks into a smile, and it pisses me off.
“No. I’m wondering why you’re bothering with me when you have Matt.”
Maddox shakes his head. “Skylar’s right. You are an idiot.”
“Huh?”
“Matt and I are just friends, you jackass. Last weekend, I went to visit him because the way he was outed was so fucking wrong I wanted to make sure he was okay. He was a wreck, so I invited him home for the weekend to get away from the vultures circling him. I had my own family drama going on, which if you’d answered any of my texts, I would’ve told you about, and so we stayed in a motel room—with two beds—under my name so Matt wouldn’t be followed. But when I visited him in Philly, I had to give my name, and someone leaked it to the tabloids or the paparazzi overheard; I’m not entirely sure. They found out where I was from and tracked us to the motel. Nothing happened.”