End of the World (Part 3 of 3)

If you look close enough, you will see signs everywhere; there are signs about your future, signs about your friends, family and even about your relationships.

I think sometimes people ignore them, they just see what they want to see. Sure, we are all different and if I am totally honest with myself, I don’t ignore those signs, instead I tuck them away and call them a liar.

So Keith pissed me off, not about what he said or how he said it but when he said it. So I needed to take a few days to step back and reexamine my feelings for him. “I just want you to know, I might be moving back to Boston in the spring.” Aww, isn’t that cute, he cares enough to tell me basically, “Don’t get to close to me bitch, you can go ahead and swallow now.”

I didn’t answer his phone call or texts the next day, I was still reeling over the fact I was about 2 minutes away from telling him I love him but by day two, I had come to the conclusion that I was happy with his warning and I owed him greatly for saying it BEFORE I confessed my feelings for him.

I finally returned his call by Thursday. “Hey baby, what’cha up to?”

“Tough day today, for some reason I thought this was Wednesday but it’s actually Thursday; I am a day behind in work.” Keith responded. “Do you still want to see me this weekend?” He said, I noticed the hesitation in his voice.

“Of course but honestly, I came real close to punching you Sunday.”

“I get it, bad timing.” He answered.

“You could say that but, I am glad you said it when you did, it makes me realize we can keep this fun. The Cat Pack is going to the renaissance festival Saturday, would you like to go?”

“Now that sounds fun; I wouldn’t miss it. Do you think I could meet you at your house Friday night after you get off or would that be too weird for Kim and Tony to have me there without you.”

“They like you, I think it would be nice for you all to hang.”

And just like that I felt better and happier. I no longer had to worry about my feelings for him or where this relationship was headed, yippee!

Even so, I had something I had to do before I could enjoy the weekend, something I had been dreading. Over the previous 2 months, since my mother (Ruth) had stopped returning my phone calls and my text messages, my son Brendan had been talking to her and trying to smooth things out so we could eventually return to having our regular Saturday, family get together.

“I am so close dad.” Brendan once said to me. “I think she is okay calling you KC but using the pronouns is probably be too difficult for her.”

“I don’t care if she calls me ‘hey you’ just as long as she doesn’t use my dead name.” I responded.

So I had hope. Until my birthday. For a while I didn’t even think she would acknowledge it but, at 8 pm I got a text.”

“Happy birthday, Kenny.”

I did not respond, at all. I was pissed. All she had to do was say happy birthday, no name needed but I guess she had to make herself feel good.

And then early this week came and I get another text. “Kenny. If your family would like to have your birthday dinner this weekend, make sure everyone is going to be able to make it.”

I really tried to be patient and understanding. I completely understand what her religion had done to her over the years and how she learned to hate so deeply; if the preacher said interracial dating was bad, she hated mixed couples; if the preacher said transgender people were the bane of society then that too gave her a reason to hate. And out of nowhere (although she had regularly found my stash of women clothes when I was a teen.) she found out that she has given birth to what she considered, a possessed demon spawn. “One of those gay people” So I let her be. Month after month, I waited for a return call or text and nothing.

I was paying the price for it also; I remembered the last time I had spoken to her and how I began to cry so hard it became difficult to catch my breath and how I lost my own self-respect when I begged, “I am sorry for this mom, I am sorry for being this way.”

And because of that I think I was quickly approaching the end of my patience. So when she asked about this weekend, knowing it would end up in a disaster the first time she said Kenny or emphasized HE, I responded. “Mom, I don’t think we are ready to see each other yet.”

It took two days for her to respond but to her credit she finally answered. “Kenny you are right, I have given it a lot of thought and I don’t think I am ready. When you get over this nonsense call me.”

I did not wait to respond, I already knew exactly what I wanted to say. “Mom, if you are waiting for me to not be Kendra, go back to the way I was when I had written suicide letters and had given up on life, then you will be waiting an eternity. That will never happen.”

Within seconds I had my response, quick and to the point. “Okay KENNY that is your choice.”

“Really, did she just text me that?” I thought before I responded. “I will tell you what I told Bryan (my brother) you have a choice to make, you can have a dead brother or a live sister…your choice.”

Sixty minutes she finally answered, “Okay…Kenny.” and that was the last text I got from her.

I realized religion had killed any chance my mother had of having a relationship with me and vowed, I was done trying but I did have one finally thing I wanted to say before I was done.

“Mom, I love you no matter what but please try to do some soul searching. Read the bible for yourself, don’t let some backwoods, ignorant hick think for you.”

Still, I already knew, I would never get a replay. My birth mother had already decided that she would rather have a dead son than a live daughter.

#Kendra #Ruth #Keith #Relationships #family #Mother