Previously on... Stories from the Closet.
Welcome to another installment of our favorite 12-year-long series of awkward, telling exchanges between a mother and her closeted gay son. This time my mother will be played by Suri Cruise (Adorable!), and I will be played by Evandro Soldati (Hot!). Let's set the scene for what may in fact be our series finale:
It is Pride weekend. Friday night, I left the house at 10pm, and didn't get back until 8am. Then, I was gone for most of Saturday (after a quick nap), and didn't get back until 6am. I slept for 3 hours, and then headed out at 10am on Sunday. After leaving a message on my phone telling me not to stay out too late a few hours earlier, I receive a phone call from my mother at 10pm that night:
Mom, angry: "Where have you been?"
Me, annoyed: "Out with friends."
Mom, still angry: "You're always out with friends. I don't even know who these friends are. You've been gone all weekend."
Me, still annoyed: "I don't understand why you have to know who all my friends are. It's not like you will remember any of them."
Mom, angry, but also a little distressed: "And I never know what you're doing anymore! You came home at 4 or 5 last night."
Me: "Why do you have to know that either?"
Mom: "Don't you know I worry about you?"
Me: "Why do you have to worry?"
Mom: "Because you're out all the time, and you never think about the future. I don't even know what you're going to do with your life. I hardly even know who you are anymore."
Me: "I am not out all the time. It's only been a couple days just this weekend. There's no point in worrying."
Mom: "How can I not worry? I'm your mother!"
Me: "I don't know what you want me to tell you."
There is a long pause. Neither of us says anything
Mom, her voice beginning to break up: "Do you know the nightmare I've been having all weekend? I keep having this nightmare that you're going to come home one day and tell me you're gay!"
My mom begins to sob, but I have nothing to say to this. What am I supposed to say? I can't say the one thing she wants to hear, though she can't honestly expect to hear it.
Mom, through tears: "I'm sorry."
Me: "For what?"
There are a few heaving breaths and then she hangs up.