Free The Telling by Eden Winters Page A

us.”
    “And…” Michael prompted. He swallowed hard, already suspecting what she might say.
    “Well, he’s gay,” she blurted as if it was the greatest thing in the world. “I’ll bet he can teach you
    all you need to know.” She winked and added, “And he’s cute, too!”
    “Yeah, I know,” Michael replied, but only after his mother had gotten out of the car and was well out of earshot. She had to be talking
    about Jay. Michael groaned, forming a clear image of what he’d like Jay to teach him.

    ***

    Sunday dinner at his grandparents’ house was exactly as remembered, with plenty of good food like fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, fried
    okra, buttermilk biscuits, and home-canned sweet corn. Pie or cake waited at the meal’s end, too. Michael didn’t comment on the small
    pitcher of tea placed beside his plate, knowing without asking it was decaffeinated as his doctor had recommended. Grandma had used sugar instead of a
    substitute, thank God. Some things he was simply unwilling to give up.
    He’d barely talked with his grandparents at church since they were in the seniors’ Sunday school class and then sat with the choir
    during service. Apparently, his mom had clued them in about his anxiety attacks so they let him leave church and retreat into the relative safety of the
    car without detaining him, even managing to divert well-wishers. Michael had been reluctant to tell them himself, knowing they’d just worry even
    more than they already did.
    Grandpa asked the blessing and, “Please pass the chicken,” followed “Amen”, along with “Can I get some of
    that okra down here,” and “Anyone want the last biscuit?” The table was so laden that passing the dishes was precarious.
    Finally, all plates were filled and they got down to the business of eating and socializing, the glue that held Southern families together. Only Jay
    remained silent, merely picking at his meal with downcast eyes.
    Michael found their close proximity distracting, his leg occasionally brushing against Jay’s, causing an instant reaction from his easily
    provoked body. If Jay noticed, he didn’t let it show. In fact, he was polite, soft spoken and the perfect dinner companion, if a little reserved.
    Angie abruptly spoke up. “Dern, Jay; what’s wrong with you today? You haven’t spoken two words and you’ve barely
    touched your chicken.”
    Grandma Ramsey leaned up from the end of the table to observe Jay’s plate. “Is something wrong with the chicken, Jay? I could fix you
    something else, if you’d like.”
    “No, Grandma, everything’s fine. I was just listening to everybody and got distracted.” To prove his point Jay picked up the
    drumstick he’d been toying with and took a bite. “Great as always, ma’am.”
    That seemed to satisfy the old woman and she relaxed back into her chair. Angie, however, scrutinized Jay, possibly waiting for another
faux pas
she could comment on.
    She really does treat him like she treats me
.
    After dinner the ladies cleaned up while the men retired to the living room to explore that male bonding ritual of sports watching. NASCAR was on. That was
    one of the things Michael had dearly missed in his time away—watching the race with his grandpa.
    Since Angie’s comment about Jay’s behavior, Michael noticed the subtle difference in how he held himself and acted. His captivating
    smile didn’t make an appearance all afternoon. When Gramps excused himself during a commercial, Michael finally had to ask, “Jay, have
    I done something to offend you? I mean, you’re not acting yourself. I may not know you that well, but Angie does. And… you never
    called me.” He hated sounding so whiny, but once the words were out there was no taking them back.
    “What? Of course I called you! You never returned the call so I thought maybe you just didn’t want anything to do with
    Angie’s pet fag.” The hurt in Jay’s voice was like a slap in the face. Then the words