Love Song (LGBTQ+) (COMPLETED)

33. Changer

As my tears slowly seemed to start running dry, my mom pulled herself back as her hands took hold of my jawline and gazed into what were likely reddened eyes. The pair of eyes I had been so afraid of looking at me differently were doing just that, looking at me differently. It just hadn't been in the way I thought or expected. They weren't the eyes of judgement or suspicion, they were the eyes of helplessness.

"Things are going to be different from now on. I promise, Lynn." my mom took my hair into her palm in between a short pause. "I'm going to spending less time at work, so we can spend more time together. We'll talk until our mouths fall off and we'll make up for all that lost time."

It was easy enough to pinpoint that she was holding back on something, and my gut told me that it had involved me in some way. As I looked back at her, she must have picked up on the fact that I already picked up on something as her hesitance seemed to vanish. It was serious to her, at the very least, even I was able to tell that much. We always seemed butt heads and didn't talk much, but she was still my mom. I knew something was off when something was off.

"I've got good news and some bad, I guess. I'm just not sure if it's okay to tell you." she dropped her hands. "I've taken Grace's parents to court for custody, and I hired that Neurologist that one of her doctors mentioned."

I was shocked again, for the second time that day. My mom always seemed to be indifferent about Grace after her attempted suicide, so I hadn't really seen that coming from her. I could only wonder, what had driven her to do either? ". . .The bad?"

"I don't really know if it's a surprise or not, but your father and I are getting a divorce." she answered as her fingers searched for something to do. ". . .He said he would rather be dead than have a gay daughter. So, I threw him and all of his shit out."

I didn't feel anything from those words, even if those very syllables had come from someone I used to consider a parent. Maybe it was because some small part of me knew they would have come out at some point, or maybe I had just long prepared myself for it, but I didn't feel much of anything. His words and his opinions stopped mattering to me when he was nowhere to be seen during the times I needed him the most. His words and feelings, his opinions, they were all as meaningless as the dirt on the bottom of my shoes.

He could've died if he wanted, because I wasn't going to change for him or for anyone else. I wasn't going to change unless I wanted it, unless I felt the need to be better. I wasn't going to wish him death, but our ties had been severed. I wasn't his daughter and he wasn't my father. I would've wished him the best and would have been on my way, but it was a relationship that was never going to be repaired. Never again would I let him in, especially after that.

I wouldn't wish him death, but he was dead to me.

I wiped my eye as I looked back up. "You should've burned it all."

"I really should have." she extended her leg, softly laughing. "Things are going to be better from now on. I promise, sweetie."

I paused, biting my lip. I had apologized profusely as I buried my head into her chest and let her shirt absorb the tears that fell, but it felt like I hadn't said enough. That I hadn't told her enough. "I'm sorry for everything, Mom. I really am."

The wordless shaking of her head had said it all. Her wordless actions continued as both of her hands took mine, and that had been when I felt something different. It was warm, but not like what I felt with Nathan. It was strong, but not the same kind of strength that I thought Grace had. It was beautiful, but not in the way someone looked or appeared. It was beautiful in the way it felt, the feeling itself.

That feeling, it was love and it was belonging, it was warmth and strength. It was the human connection. Everything I felt so far away from for so long was right in front of me. That sense of being wanted and needed had shown themselves, but would they last, or were they temporary like everything I had ever loved in my life? The things I loved had always come to be hurt or broken, irreparably damaged, and I wanted to believe that things would change right then and there. I wanted to believe, but what had changed, what was different?