That Woman, Emma.

Victor

"I think you should come for dinner Friday night, Justin," I murmured into the phone, my gaze drifting over the details of my new plaintiff's case. The device rested snugly between my ear and shoulder as I continued to scan the document, absorbing its intricacies while maintaining the conversation with my brother. Despite knowing his response, I awaited his reply with a sense of resignation.

Justin's voice crackled through the line, laced with a bitterness that was all too familiar. "Are you sure dad will be okay if his faggot son comes home for holidays?" His words cut through the air like a knife, a painful reminder of the rift that had torn our family apart.

With a heavy sigh, I set aside my work and grasped the phone firmly in my hand, steeling myself for the conversation ahead. "Justin, he apologized to you. Mom misses you terribly, and to be honest, dinners at Mom and Dad haven't been the same without you," I replied, my tone tinged with a hint of pleading.

A smug chuckle echoed from the other end of the line; Justin's self-assuredness was palpable even through the phone. "That's because I'm the fun one," he quipped, his words carrying a sense of defiance that belied the pain beneath the surface.

He was spot-on. Justin had always been the jester of our family, the one who effortlessly injected joy and laughter into our lives. While I inherited my father's solemnity and authoritative demeanor, Justin emerged as the sole beacon of levity within our tight-knit circle.

Our mother, a gentle soul with a penchant for quietude, offered warmth and affection in abundance, while our father, though stern, had always been a pillar of strength and guidance—until Justin's revelation shattered the facade of familial harmony. In the wake of his coming out, my father's staunch religious beliefs clashed violently with his unconditional love for his son, morphing into an unsettling blend of disapproval and disdain.

It was a moment I never anticipated, the first time I found myself at odds with my father's convictions. Standing up against him, defending Justin's right to live authentically and without fear of judgment, was a watershed moment—one that forever altered the dynamics of our relationship.

The words that escaped my father's lips left me stunned and incredulous. Here was a man of stature, a seasoned lawyer whose intellect and wisdom were revered, resorting to juvenile taunts to belittle Justin's sexuality. It was a moment of profound disappointment, watching my father stoop to such petty behavior.

Unable to tolerate the degradation of my brother, I found myself rising to his defense, confronting our father with a firmness I hadn't known I possessed. I demanded that he cease his hurtful remarks, refusing to stand idly by as he attempted to diminish Justin's identity.

To my dismay, my father's response was swift and severe, laced with a venomous intensity that took me aback. Yet, Justin's lack of surprise spoke volumes, a testament to the years of anticipation and apprehension he had endured prior to coming out to us.

At that moment, I understood the magnitude of Justin's struggle and the weight of his decision to reveal his true self in a world plagued by prejudice and ignorance. It was a revelation that underscored the importance of unwavering support and acceptance within our family, a lesson learned at a high cost.

Justin had taken the bold step of moving out at the tender age of eighteen, a decision that, initially, seemed to unfold without much drama. However, as time passed, a noticeable void began to manifest itself within our family gatherings and dinners—Justin's absence, a palpable absence that served as a painful reminder of the schism that had formed between him and our father.

It had been seven long months since Justin last graced our home with his presence. While my mother and I maintained sporadic contact with him, my father remained distanced, his discomfort with Justin's sexuality lingering beneath the surface like an unspoken truth. It wasn't until several months had elapsed that my father, grappling with the weight of his words and their impact on Justin, mustered the courage to extend an olive branch in the form of a heartfelt apology.