2008 Woodie Awards
Only What You Let Change, Will
A short story in honor of National Coming Out Day
Lisa Christine Padilla
Issue date: 10/14/04 Section: Entertainment
The way the door slammed after he left, it was like no other sound I had heard. What had he expected? You don't just tell your son news that huge, and expect him to be accepting. How had I not noticed, why couldn't I tell? The phone rang and my head slowly turned to watch the red light flash over and over. My feet wouldn't move. My mind wouldn't budge. Click, the answering machine picked up. Blessed by my mother's five-year-old recording, the caller began to speak. A foreign voice, a person I no longer knew spoke. "Jeremy, I've tried. Tried to deny it, fight it, not give in, but I can't, okay? I can't, damn it! This is who I am. It doesn't change my love for you; it doesn't change anything between us. Only what you let change, will."
Was that it? Now it was my fault? Now all of a sudden the change, the air, the distance the size of a country between us, was all up to me? He must be joking. Drip, a wet feeling broke the tight grip between my fingers and I noticed my tears falling uncontrollably. My face turned red with anger. Finally I was able to get my feet moving and before I knew it I was running down the street, front door wide open, the same way my heart felt. Anyone could get in if they wanted, why even bother to lock it anymore? My own father could deceive me.
You grow up thinking that your parents are the world, the only people in your life you can really trust. Imagine how screwed up you can get when you find out that you can't trust them. I wanted my mother, her soft words and gentle honesty. She was still the same person, and she wouldn't
hurt me the way my father did. I felt like curling up right back in her womb and not letting them take me out. The warm flowery scent of her perfume still lingered from her good-bye this morning. I wish she were here.
The road ended by the lake where my father and I used to fish every weekend. I saw us out there on the water, when he would tell his long childhood stories. Stories that made my mind water and run deep into forests and huge cornfields and when I would say, "For real?" He'd smile, and say, "No." We would laugh for what seemed like forever and no one could tell me that I didn't love my father. He was great but what was he now? Was he still my father? Could we still be close? The scene blurred like a dream as the tears welled up in my eyes, where do we go from here?
His message on the answering machine played back in my head and he was right. Only what I let change, will. He still loves me and cares about me. He is still my father, even though he is gay.
Was that it? Now it was my fault? Now all of a sudden the change, the air, the distance the size of a country between us, was all up to me? He must be joking. Drip, a wet feeling broke the tight grip between my fingers and I noticed my tears falling uncontrollably. My face turned red with anger. Finally I was able to get my feet moving and before I knew it I was running down the street, front door wide open, the same way my heart felt. Anyone could get in if they wanted, why even bother to lock it anymore? My own father could deceive me.
You grow up thinking that your parents are the world, the only people in your life you can really trust. Imagine how screwed up you can get when you find out that you can't trust them. I wanted my mother, her soft words and gentle honesty. She was still the same person, and she wouldn't
hurt me the way my father did. I felt like curling up right back in her womb and not letting them take me out. The warm flowery scent of her perfume still lingered from her good-bye this morning. I wish she were here.
The road ended by the lake where my father and I used to fish every weekend. I saw us out there on the water, when he would tell his long childhood stories. Stories that made my mind water and run deep into forests and huge cornfields and when I would say, "For real?" He'd smile, and say, "No." We would laugh for what seemed like forever and no one could tell me that I didn't love my father. He was great but what was he now? Was he still my father? Could we still be close? The scene blurred like a dream as the tears welled up in my eyes, where do we go from here?
His message on the answering machine played back in my head and he was right. Only what I let change, will. He still loves me and cares about me. He is still my father, even though he is gay.