No How, No Way

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No How, No Way

by Michelle Wilder
 
What would you do if the worst thing possible happened?

 

Chris Rannock pulled the battalion's newest pickup off the wet highway as far onto the shoulder as he could and flicked on the marker flashers. It was a perk of being brass to commute in the department's small trucks to break them in, and now... well, he was brass. The underloaded rear end fishtailed a few feet down the steep grass bank before he stopped.

He dug his phone out of his uniform jacket pocket and hit re-dial for the fourth or fifth time that afternoon as the rush hour traffic hissed by, unnoticed. The mounties wouldn't bother him. Or maybe they would stop to offer help... whatever. Where's the fire? Any problems, chief?

"Yes, hello? I called earlier, about teen suicide? Yes..." He stared into the outside rearview, trying to imagine the person on the other end of the line. "Yes, that was me... okay, I can wait a few." He fumbled the too-small phone onto his shoulder and dug out his wallet.

"Marilyn? Hi. Yes, thank you again..." Flipping open the wallet he had carried for at least nine years, a birthday present, he looked at a creased family picture, blurred behind yellowed plastic.

"Marilyn, I really appreciate your help... yes.... Well, what I wanted to know was, is... is there any way to... know?" He carefully eased the picture out. It had glued itself in place, but eventually came free.

"No, I mean, I mean, about the depression... does it show earlier on? I mean, I, he's only twelve now...." He peered, tried to see something in the photo, something invisible in Spencer's bright smile.

"What? No, sorry... I was thinking." The picture looked normal. ~Spence looks happy. What does depression look like?~

"My boy... yes, like I... I don't know for sure, but I'm worried, and because of my friend, his boy... and how I described him.... Is that... could that be depressed?"

~Is his smile forced? Was he really happy that day?~ Listening to her took him away for a time, but he stared at the picture, the memory of the day in Sears... what? Last year?

"Thank you, Marilyn. You've really helped. I'm sorry to bother you.... Yes, I will, tomorrow, probably. Thank you."

He pressed blindly a few times before he managed to turn off the too-small cell phone.

***

He tried to look normal, but Janice smiled at him from the kitchen, lost her smile, and then hurried over. He hugged her hard. "Are the kids home?"

Her brow furrowed. "What's wrong, Chris? Has something happened?"

~She thinks something's finally happened, one of us hurt, burned. Christ. Well, I guess it has.~

He turned to look at the mantle picture, the painting of the photo he carried. He had to tell her fast, put the worst out of the way.

"Rob... Robert Johanson... you remember him, tall, blonde, has that scar on his cheek?" Chris realized he was speaking ever quieter, afraid Spence would hear.

Her face changed. ~She thinks Rob was....~

"It's not that." He felt weak. He headed into the living room and sat heavily on the new couch. His normal home.... ~A nice normal room, new couch and chairs, God the carpet looks old, but it's still.... Why the hell am I thinking about the rug?~

Janice sat close beside him, peering at his face.

~What do I look like? Afraid? It shows.~ He took her hands in his, then just one of his, so he could rub his too-tight neck.

"Their boy, Bobby, he was at college... State." He looked in her eyes. ~I'm gonna cry.~

"He committed suicide last night."

"Oh, Chris!"

"He left a note... that he was gay and didn't want them to be ashamed...." He couldn't focus.

"Oh, Chris...." Janice leaned in and hugged.

~So small, like she isn't strong... not today, not enough.~ Everything felt a little less sure than before, since Rob had come into his office.

***

They looked in on the kids. Chelsea watching some modeling show, Spencer reading, but on the love seat in front of the TV. Chris didn't want to talk to them yet, or scare them the way he had Janice, but he had to see them, to see Spencer, especially. To be sure.

***

"What Spence was doing when you caught him that time, with Chelsea's stuff...." The kids had gone to sleep, he felt safe talking about everything.

"Oh, Chris! That doesn't mean he's gay! He was just..."

"No, it doesn't." He put his hand on her arm, stopped her. ~Spence is normal and nothing's wrong....~

Chris went through the list again, from the afternoon, to reassure himself he wouldn't lose his boy. Couldn't. When he had realized that it was all too real, that Rob's boy was gone, and why, he had called the EAP people, the shrinks to call for... death and whatever. Employee Assistance.

The psychologist had listened, and referred him to a suicide crisis line, and they listened, and then referred him to a gay resource centre. He had learned a lot... enough to worry more, and stop some of the stupid... shit... from running through his head.

~How can I be so stupid? He's NOT perfectly safe!~

"It doesn't mean he's gay, but he might be. One doesn’t have to mean anything... to do with the other." He swallowed past the terrible fear that still seemed to squeeze his guts, his throat. “But I talked to people, people who have... experience, this afternoon. After Rob told me, after he, after I got Johnny to drive him home, with Leanne...."

He looked at her squarely, and tried to take all the judgment out of his voice, judgment he didn't feel anymore but was sure was there before. ~Nonjudgmental... right.~

"Spence has been into your stuff more than then, that one time... your clothes? And Chelsea's? More? It's okay...."

He had heard Chelsea complaining a few times over the past couple of years, and Janice shushing her. He'd thought....

~She's worried that I'm angry at Spence.~

"It's okay. It's okay.... But the people I talked to, about what happened... to Bobby...." He had to swallow. ~Christ....~

"Sometimes... lots of times, kids start showing, doing things when they're little, younger than they can even know...." ~One afternoon on the phone, and I'm the expert.~

He massaged Janice's hands, unable to look at anything and still order his thoughts. ~Don't scare her, or hurt Spence.... Okay. I learned a bit.~

"Dressing up, it might be just a game, but it might mean he's gay, or will be, or he might be transgendered. A cross-dresser or even transsexual, feeling like he's a girl. And gay kids, and transgendered kids... they commit suicide more, than other kids...."

~God, she looks scared.~ He hugged her close. ~Please! Make it be better, that I haven't screwed up too bad.~

"It might not...." He stopped and thought. Held her so he could think and talk.

"They said it was.... About suicide, they thought it was fear. Kids are so afraid they're gay... different, or that people, 'specially their families, will hate them, and they get depressed and that's... they think...."

He had to stop for a few breaths, remember where he wanted to finish. ~Please.~

"That's *all* it is, Jan. They're afraid. If they aren't afraid, they don't...." He shuddered, a hard jerk, finding it still too hard to cry. ~Please?~

"Bobby... Rob's boy... was wearing a dress... when they found him." ~Like Spence.~ "His friends found him, he'd missed classes for a few days...."

He remembered his long, rambling talk with Rob.

"He'd lost a lot of weight... they said he hadn't been eating for weeks, really, but he went to the cafeteria sometimes with his friends, a boy named Barry, and some girl... so they didn't realize...." He swallowed. ~He probably smiled normal.~

"The boy, Barry, he's the one who called, he said, Bobby... had all sorts of girls’ clothing there. Rob said he wasn't making a lot of sense... but he said they knew."

He took another breath. ~They knew.~

"They knew about what Bobby was doing, before he left for school, that he was dressing up... and...."

~Please, God, if I try?~

"Jan... I don't know! About, about... Spencer.... But we can't pretend it isn't possible. They said it's like depression, hiding and being afraid, and if, even if it's not... often, as bad as... for Bobby... it can be all his life, if it gets bad."

He looked in her eyes. ~Please, understand. Even if I can't explain?~

"I've been a... a bigot. I never even tried to understand and... pretended... it was someone else's problem and I don't care if I've never been anti-gay or anything, I've been pretty careful to be less than totally accepting of anyone who might be gay. Or anything the guys might laugh at...." ~Or the jokes I told.~

He didn't feel the tears start, this time. It was just as hard, but he felt.... ~I'm gonna change, so, please?~ He felt like the jerk he had been all Spencer's and Chelsea's lives. ~Lots to make up for, to repair.~

~Please! Not Spence. It was me!~

***

Rob took two weeks bereavement leave. Chris called to formally offer his condolences. Bobby's sister, Jan... Rob shivered... had come home to help with things. The funeral would be held on Friday.

Chris picked up flowers and a large basket of treats and snacks that would keep and that he thought looked appetizing, and drove over to the Johansons' home. Rob's wife Rebecca answered the door. Everything hurt, even their best efforts to comfort each other. Their living room had new furniture, new carpet. Pictures of the family. Bobby's picture.

~He looks happy. Like Spence.~

The whole week crawled by in constant anguish: the service, the Johansons' grief, guilt and fear that he had hurt Spencer already, the learning, all the calls to the resource centre, and meeting with Marilyn. It got easier after they talked, but it was still hard being afraid.

***

"Okay, everyone. After supper there's going to be a family meeting."

He had tried to say it like it was business as usual, but they had never held a family meeting... or at least never that they had called one. ~Way to sound like a TV dad.~

Chelsea and Spencer both looked at him like he would be telling them bad news, and Janice seemed to be trying to act neutral.

"A meeting? What, like business? Are we in trouble? I mean, are... is there... are you in money trouble?" Chelsea sounded scared. At fourteen the world is a crisis a minute.

Janice jumped in. "No. Nothing like that." She glanced at Chris before continuing. "Nothing bad, nothing scary, nothing to worry about, no divorces, no illness, just a meeting so we can talk to you about some important stuff, and... so you know we think it's important."

The kids looked less scared and more confused. ~Less scared is enough. Good start, any start. Spencer looks... like always.~

Chris had made an effort to stop staring at his youngest the past week. ~He looks just like my cousin Josh did at that age: skinny as all get-out, freckled, maybe shorter by a few inches, but scrappier.~

Chris thought Spence was like Chelsea too, but faster and more courageous. He climbed trees and such, like other boys.

~But he’s more likely to hang around with Liz, or Chelsea and her friends~ Or alone, Chris had remembered, and thought a hundred times: reading, painting or drawing, though he never showed anyone his art, and tried to destroy almost all of it, tearing it into tiny pieces....

~Obsessively.~

That word popped into Chris' head again. Words from the week.... ~Obsessions are a symptom of depression. And he draws girls. Hundreds of girls. If he was gay, or would be... or transgendered... or both.... How the hell can so many people be so invisible, so ignored. So hated?~

***

"I call this meeting to order."

The dinner dishes gone and the table cleared and cleaned. He looked around at the three faces and was reassured by Janice's smile. She had said it last night, and again this afternoon. "You love them. That's the main message. You can't fail."

The kids had stopped looking scared.

~I look like a geek, or a square. Dweeb Dad. Whatever word they're thinking.~ He had to smile.

Janice did too.

"This is a serious meeting, and in serious meetings there are rules. I'll give you the rules, and if we need to discuss them or change them, we will, okay?"

~Please, make this enough to wipe out... what's... before today? Please?~

The kids nodded uncertainly, and Janice still smiled encouragement. The kids even appeared less skeptical, a little.

"Rule one is no insults or swearing, or saying things that might hurt anyone's feelings on purpose. Understand?"

Chelsea nodded, thoughtful. Spencer seemed confused. He fiddled with the edge of the table.

"Spencer?"

He looked up after a second. "So, no names, you mean?"

~He's okay, so far.~ Chris bobbed his head, a little too anxious to show agreement. "Yes. And no saying things about each other or... what they like, if it's to hurt them."

"No making fun of someone's hobby or favorite music, or things like that,” Janice added. “Understand?"

All of them nodded.

"So, that's rule one." Chris nodded at each of his children in turn, trying not to seem severe or scared, or anything bad.

"Rule two is that we're allowed to say anything, okay? So long as it respects rule one. Okay?" He realized he was talking like a teenager. "Which means nobody says shut up, or quiet, or you can't say that."

He frowned. "This is a hard rule, kiddos. It means you, we, can tell the truth. We have to think and say stuff that's true as much as we can, and try to not hurt anyone, okay?"

~Or pretend we don't notice things, or don't talk about those things... anymore.~

Janice nodded and smiled a tight smile.

~She's scared.~ He reached across to squeeze her hand. She pressed his and then they both sat back.~ We both are.~

Chelsea looked very frightened, and Spencer like he was fighting back tears.

Chris realized their meeting probably felt like what kids are afraid of.

"And again; we are NOT getting a divorce, moving, losing a job, or sick." He hurt-grinned at Janice. "It's not about things like that, so please, please don't worry?"

Both kids relaxed a little, though he could still see the fear there, and the tears.

"Rule three is no shouting or yelling or theatrics. And no leaving." He touched both of their shoulders, as gently as he could, and felt their warmth. ~Have I ever done this before?~

"I'm changing rule three to we have to help each other as much as we can." He squeezed each arm gently. "Understand?"

They each nodded, even Janice, and she smiled.

He cleared his throat. Coughed again.

"So rule four is there’s no acting out like a four-year old. Janice?"

Both kids looked up at their mother. Janice pointed at herself and acted innocent and much put-upon. Both kids smiled. ~Little joke, tears gone. For the moment.~

"Those are the only rules for this meeting. Respect, honesty, care, and no shouting or leaving. They're not just my idea, or your mother's. Lots of important meetings happen with them, and they work. Okay?"

The kids didn't do more than nod. Janice nodded and smiled.

Chris nodded at them all. ~And now the hard part.~

"This is... what... we, your mother and I, want you to know, and... it's as important to us as you are."

Nothing came together in his mind.

He'd forgotten the words, the ones he had rehearsed, that seemed just right when he heard them, or thought of them....

After an uncomfortable silence, hours, lost in trying to remember, trying not to say the wrong words, Janice rescued him.

"A very bad thing happened to friends of ours, someone your father works with and his family, just last week."

~She sounds so... like Marilyn... like she knows how to say the hard things... like they were ordinary. Bad things.~

She nodded his way. His cue.

He had to clear his throat. He knew it was rude, and bad public speaking, but it was tight again.

"Chelsea, you might remember him more, he... he was closer to your age." He looked up at them, more squarely. "Do you remember Bobby Johanson? He has a sister, Jan?"

She shook her head, but Spence got that 'ah-ha' face like he remembered. They had all attended several work parties.

~That... Christmas, Spence and Bobby at the table. And now, never.~

"He died... last week, at university. He killed himself."

Spence's eyes grew, more whites showing, and his mouth moved.

~Like he's searching for words.~

Then he paled. Janice reached across and chaffed his hand, watching him closely. ~Her sick kid face. Watching to see if he'll need the bathroom, a hug.~

Chris understood... he knew how bad it all hurt him. He reached over and took Chelsea's hand and continued.

"What I’m going to tell you is for just in this family, not for telling other people, and not because it's bad, but because some people are prejudiced, and it might hurt Bobby's family."

The kids nodded. Spence still looked ill.

“Yes,” Chelsea said quietly.

Spencer get some color back, but his face clearly showed he knew it wasn't over. The colors flushed by in seconds, pale, red....

~He's okay.~

"Bobby was gay, or said he was. He thought that everyone would hate him, even his family, and he was too scared to keep living."

Chelsea nodded, dead serious, watching her brother.

~She knows. ~

Spence shivered, sick-pale again.

Chris continued, tried to look at both of them, all of them.

"If he was with his family tonight, if he could ask them, they would tell him they love him. They would tell him they love him if he is gay, if he loves boys or girls.... They would tell him they love him whatever he wore, or if he is a boy, or a girl."

He looked only at Spence, to reassure him as quickly as he could. He squeezed Chelsea's hand.

"If he was here in this room, I'd tell him that too. Your mother would too." He eyed a question at her, reassured by her smile telling him he was doing fine. He focused.

"I love you. We love you both, with all our hearts." He swallowed past the fear again.

"And if either, or both of you, ever feels like you are... gay... if you feel like who you love, or want to wear...."

Spencer stiffened.

It was gone again. ~All my carefully prepared speech. I....~

He sat up, let go of Chelsea's hand, and pushed his chair back.

Spencer looked up.

~He looks like I kicked him.~

"I don't know how to say this...." He realized he had scared Chelsea too... to the point she was pale, like his son.

~And Spencer's terrified. Of me.~

"Come here." He said quietly, while opening his arms.

Both kids came, Spence looking back and forth.

~Like I'm gonna hit him, like....~

They ended up standing awkwardly against his legs. He wrapped his arms around them and sat, pulled them both into his lap, back to back, overflowing, stiff in his arms. He hadn't held them in years, together. ~They’re too big to hold and too young not to.~

He let his tears flow, finally sure they wouldn't be too scared by them.

"I love you both, more than anything else in the world...." He breathed into their shoulders, rested his head on Spencer.

~He's here. He's safe.~

"Bobby... was afraid to tell anyone... how... who he was...." He breathed deep, and kissed Spencer hard on his cheek, then Chelsea, who was crying.

Janice was crying too, kneeling behind Chelsea.

"Bobby was too afraid to say, ‘I'm not what you expected, or thought, or maybe wanted.’"

He made careful eye contact with both of them. One after the other. Looked at both his children.

~Please? Don't let me screw this up.~

"You don't have to ever be afraid of that. Ever. 'Cause you are both exactly who we want, and hoped for and expected, whoever you love and whoever you decide to be or find out you are."

Chris hugged harder, since the words were back. The words Janice had thought were perfect.

"They say kids are afraid to come out to their parents, to tell them important things. So we are coming out to you, just in case."

He kissed each of his kids where he could reach them, again. Deliberately.

~I have to do this every day.~

"We're ready and proud to be the parents of our lovely gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, or straight children and the only new rule is that you need to tell us about it, when you can."

He waited until they both turned to stare at him, Spence's wide eyes and tears, Chelsea's smile and tears. Chris smiled all the relief he felt. A real smile.

~Thank you.~

The End.

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Comments

If only families were like this

for real. Too many times our sisters have followed Bobby's path, simply because they were afraid of what their parents, friends, or others might think of them.

I fought back tears, just as Spencer's Dad was doing throughout this story, and lost it at the end, crying like a baby.

If you are here, you are either curious, or like most of us. TG/TV/TS/CD. If you have a child, a friend, a co-worker who seems like they want to tell you something, LISTEN to them. Don't judge them. Don't turn them away. The tragedy of suicide is too real, and happens too often.

Michelle, Thank you for writing this and posting it here. You did a wonderful job of telling the story, and made me cry. Damn few have managed to make me cry. Thank you.

huggles 'n love,
Catherine Linda Michel

As a T-woman, I do have a Y chromosome... it's just in cursive, pink script. Y_0.jpg

Wow, that was beautiful

laika's picture

A sad and beautiful tale- one family's grief, another's awakening. Told in the classic Michelle Wilder fashion; which to me is kinda reminiscent of Raymond Carver's stuff, but with a style that's all her own.
I am soooooooooo glad you're back Michelle!
~~~hugs, Laika

(And do ya know where I can maybe score some Little Pink Pills?)

a true love story

one of the best storys of this type i have ever seen. If all of us had this talk with our children, showing just a small amount of the love shown here, just think of all those kiddies who would survive another day.

thanks Michelle

hugs from who

BookWorm

Cries for Love and Acceptance

terrynaut's picture

Sometimes it takes extreme measures to get parents to listen to their children, and sometimes that message is understood too late. *sigh*

This story got me sniffling but I'd swear I've read it before. Have you posted this story here before? Did you revise it a little?

Anyway, thanks. I really like this story. It shows just how important it is to love and accept your children -- and how vitally important it is to show that you love and accept them!

- Terry

Posted before????!!!

Yup. :-)
Thanks for the feedback, all.
Michelle

The First Time

When you first allowed me to read this months ago, I couldn't believe all the love it contained. I still can't. I disagree with what was said above. If mothers and fathers knew what to do -- they would. It is only a small percentage of parents who are capable of knowingly hurting their children.

What angers me is that there are many bigots out there in the guise of religious leaders, politicians and educators who would damn this short story on the grounds that it advances the homosexual agenda. They will do whatever they can to stop the acceptance of GLBT. . .whatwever they can.

Thank you for this wonderful story which reminds us all of what is important.

I've raised four children. The youngest is 18 and the oldest 35. I tried to raise them in a tolerant home, and I'm proud of how accepting they are of others. Yet, I have no idea if any of them is in the closet. I need to have that talk with each of them.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Heart Warming and Scary

This should be a must read for all parents. Unfortunately the ones who need it the most will never see it. Hopefully, it is a message that can be shared even with the bigoted.

Very moving and it brought tears to my eyes for Spencer, for Bobby and for all the Bobbies and Spencers that are too afraid to ask for help.

Thanks for sharing.

As always,

Dru

As always,

Dru

thank you

amyzing's picture

it mad me cry ... again. this is one of the pieces (with points of view) that made me a raving fangrrrl; i recognized it immediately, but it had no less impact on second-and-third readings (i tend to feel that anything worth reading is worth re-reading). the characterization is splendid; the difficulty that the pov character has in finding words, and the deep, driving fear that compels him to search for them, somehow, to make things *right* ... it's an almost introverted story, about paying attention to the others in your life who are important. one of those lovely wilder "contains multitudes" stories.

i'm tempted to suggest, though, that it be reposted next november 20.

beautiful, michelle.

Amy!

BRAVA!!!!

It is stories like this that make me want to hang up my pen and wallk away from writing ever again. this was absolutely beautifu. Amazing. loving. true, raw emotion, I am at a loss for words as to how this story made me feel.

I was taking a break from writng and happened upon this wonderfu, incredible story. I don't know if I can write anymore tonight or if it would be considered sacralege if I even tried after reading this.

I am ashamed that I have not been as loving or as open with my daughter. I feel like a slug slithering in the lowest of gutters. I will rememdy that starting tomorrow.

Thank you, thank you, thank you

A.A.

p.s. thank you

So many of us would love parents like these

We may never know how many suicides are related to fear of being gay or transgendered. Many more are lost to drugs, alcohol, or madness. I have trouble beleiving that most parents would not rather their kids be alive and happy and gay or tg than drugged up or dead. An excelent story.

DogSig.png

re: story

what a wonderful mom and dad. i hope spencer finds his way ok.
robert

001.JPG

Wow

Andrea Lena's picture

wish we all had parents like that. The good thing is for all of us; no matter what kind of parents we had, we can be the kind of parents we hope for. Thanks for this story!



Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

I can't add more than what

KristineRead's picture

I can't add more than what has been said by others before, but this is a very powerful story, that I do wish every parent would read.

I came across this, this morning because of Drea's comment... And am going to have to go wash my face now before I go face the world.

Well told...

Thanks

Kristy

Public Service

This should be profesionaly acted out and shown as a public service commercial.

This is very powerful stuff

James

Thank You

Thanks, James
Michelle

...

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