Chapter 18
Days passed—long and without incident.
My mother and I avoided each other in our small apartment. I supposed it wasn’t much different than before my brash and thoughtless confession. She’d been busy during the evenings, preparing our modest home for my father’s return, as though the right vase containing the right dry flower arrangement could somehow distract my dad from the fact that he’d fathered a gay son. Because I knew she’d told him. I’d heard my mother on the phone last night, sobbing and whispering. I bet they were already planning my first visit with Father Neil, or maybe worse, a psychiatrist who’d show me ink blots for half an hour, and to each I’d say, “Nick’s eyes.”
My mood was worsening with every passing hour and it didn’t help that high school was closed today
