“Excuse me?”

She nodded again. “Joe told me the reason why you are splitting up. And I want you to think about this carefully, Billie Ann. Do you hear me? These things are not something you play around with.”

“These things? What things, Mom?” I asked, feeling myself getting worked up. I wasn’t surprised at her reaction, but it still angered me. I wanted her support. She was my mother, and I craved it. Of course, I did. I think anyone in my situation would want that.

“Now there is no reason to take a tone with me,” she said, her lips growing tight. “I’m only here to help.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Help? Help with what?”

“Help you to not destroy your family over something so silly, Billie Ann,” she said with a light snort.

“Did you just call the fact that I’m gay silly?” I asked. It was so ridiculous I almost laughed. Maybe I would have if it wasn’t my own mother talking to me. The very woman whose acceptance I really wanted.

“It is silly, Billie Ann. You’re not a lesbian. Look around you. You have a husband and three lovely children.”

“I do have that, but I’m still a lesbian, Mom. Besides, you aren’t much better yourself. I know your secrets, Mom—you think you successfully kept things from me and Andrew?”

My mom winced. She didn’t like anyone speaking about my little brother.

“I’m allowed to say his name, Mom.”

I took a deep sip of my wine. I was so furious, I could barely sit in my chair. How could Joe do this to me? How could he tell my mother like this? How could he out me to her?

“No, you are not a lesbian,” my mom said, after a few breaths. I knew mentioning Andrew would make her feel awful, but I guess that’s why I did it. It didn’t stop her, though, and she continued, nostrils flaring as she spoke.

“Will you stop with that nonsense.”

Her deep disdain made me feel sick to my stomach. I bit back my anger. “You can’t tell me what I am, Mother.”

“I’m sure you think that you are… that… I don’t doubt that at all, Billie Ann. But you’re just going through a crisis right now. It’s perfectly normal. We all go through those things. So, you felt attracted to a woman? It’s a phase, and soon you will wake up and realize what you have done, that you have ruined a perfectly well-functioning family, and then what? How will you get it all back? Being attracted to another woman once in your life is normal. But it passes.”

“Yeah, well, it has been going on for me since I was a young teenager, and it hasn’t passed, how about that for a phase, huh, Mom?” I said, finishing my glass. I pushed my chair back, got up and poured myself another glass. I stood by the sink looking out into the darkness at the swaying palm trees by the canal I lived on. I didn’t want to look at those two sitting in my kitchen. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Nonsense,” my mom said. “You dated Ricky in high school, remember? You were heartbroken when he broke up with you.”

I turned to face her. “I only dated him because everyone wanted me to. I felt pressured into it. I never cared about him. And guess what? I never even slept with him. Because I didn’t want to. He kept pushing for it, but I couldn’t do it. Because the very thought made me nauseated. That’s why he broke up with me. Because I kept saying no to him. How about that?”

She scoffed. “That’s not true. You didn’t sleep with him because you were a well-raised Christian young lady, who knew she had to wait till she was married. We had taught you that.”

I tilted my head. “Yeah, well, I kissed my best friend Monica in the bathroom at prom, and believe you me, I wanted to do more than that, if I had dared to. But I didn’t. Because I had been taught that what I was, who I was, was wrong. That’s what they said to us in church, Mom. That we were wrong. That I was sick and suffering from sin. That I would go to hell. That God despised me. That I was under the influence of the devil. How do you think that made me feel? How was I supposed to stand up and tell you who I was? How could I not marry a man when I was taught that was the only right thing to do?”

My mom went quiet for a few seconds. She looked down at her hands, then back up at me, while I sipped my wine.

“There are treatments available, Billie Ann,” she said, her voice growing stern, like I was some unruly teenager who didn’t listen. “I know this is all just because of what happened to you, that awful incident with your former partner. It has made you hate men. You’re in pain because of that, and that’s understandable, but there is no need to let it ruin your life, your beautiful family. Think about the children. There are clinics that can help. Or maybe we can ask Pastor Stan to help you. You remember him, right? I know he’s done stuff like this before. It’s just a phase, Billie Ann. It’s all about how you act on it. You don’t have to go down this path. It’s a choice and right now your choices are about to hurt a lot of innocent people. People you love and care for. We can help you.”

I stared at her, unable to speak. I couldn’t believe her. I couldn’t believe that she was actually saying these things to me right now.

“Why won’t you listen to me, Billie Ann?” she continued. “I’m your mother. I know my daughter, and she is not some lesbian. Homosexuality is an abomination. Read Leviticus eighteen, verse twenty-two.”

That was it for me. I was done. I went to the front door and opened it.

“I want you to leave. I can’t deal with you, and this, right now. Please.”

My mom looked at me in disbelief. Then she turned to face Joe. He shrugged and said with a sigh, “At least we tried.”

“I can’t believe you’d ask your own mother to leave your house,” she said as she passed me. “After all that I have done for you.”

“If you can’t accept me for who I am, then I can’t be around you,” I said. “It’s as simple as that. Oh, and I have a Bible verse for you too, Mom. Galatians six, verse seven. ‘Do not be deceived. God is not mocked, for you will reap whatever you sow.’ You sow hatred, Mom, that’s what you get back.”

She looked at me, almost with disgust, and it made me feel so sick, so vulnerable. But I didn’t let her see that. I bit my sadness back, and as she walked out, I closed the door behind her. Then I looked at Joe who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. I shook my head.

“Wow. Just wow, Joe.”

I went to the guest room, and closed the door behind me, then fell to my knees on the floor and cried.

THIRTYMARISSA

Riding down the road made her heart race. Marissa felt dizzy, and sick to her stomach, as she pulled over to the side of the street and got off her bike.

There it was. The house.

She was breathing heavily as she stared at the front yard and the red door. It was still early in the morning, and they were all sleeping. But soon they would get up and the place would be busy.

She could imagine exactly what it sounded like. She envisioned every step, every voice, as she would lie awake and try to listen to them, to no avail. Small feet tapping across the wooden floors. Voices—some were crying, some yelling at each other. Voices that would grow older as the years passed and sound different. It was the sound of life. Of children.

How she longed to hold them, to kiss their hair and smell them. She missed the closeness, the breastfeeding, the connection, the love. The deep and wonderful love she had felt for them.

And then it was gone. They grew older.

Oh, Emma, where are you, my baby? I need you to come home. I need to be with you. I need you with me. My body, my entire being longs for you.

She leaned her head forward and let the tears stream down her cheeks.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be without you,” she cried. “I can’t lose you too.”

Marissa felt like she was suffocating, like everything was closing in on her. She sat there on the curb for a moment longer, the weight of her grief crushing her chest. She couldn’t shake off the feeling of loss that had consumed her after Emma had gone missing. The raw pain was still there, pulsing through her veins like poison.

With a deep breath, she wiped away her tears and looked up at the house again. Suddenly, something caught her attention. There was a light on in one of the windows on the second floor. She squinted, trying to make out any movement inside.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a figure moving around behind the curtains. It was small, childlike.

Marissa held her breath. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Seeing this child, she couldn’t stop smiling. She felt a surge of hope and adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Emma.

Tears rushed down her face, and she got to her feet. She walked across the street toward the house, staring at the little girl in the window, forgetting where she was.

“Emma?”