The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,50

thing to do, which led to very un-Christian behavior.”

“She coerced you.”

I laughed. “No, she didn’t.”

“You said she did.”

“I lied so you wouldn’t send me away.”

My mom made a small noise of disgust. “She’s lucky we didn’t press charges.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure lesbian sex wasn’t illegal, even in 1995.”

“Oh, Sophia. Don’t use that word. You’re not one of those people. I didn’t raise you that way.” My mom stood, pain clear on her face, and turned away. “You said she forced you.”

“Seduced, Mother, not forced. I lied so you wouldn’t send me to conversion camp. The attraction was mutual, trust me. We were in love.”

“No, you were not.” Brenda had ripped her napkin to shreds. “You’re just saying that to be cruel.”

“I should have told you all those years ago. Nora’s the love of my life.”

“Charlie is the love of your life.”

“I wanted him to be, and I’ve tried, Mother. I have. But, it’s Nora. It’s always been Nora.”

“Sophie, stop talking nonsense.”

I stood and pulled at my hair in frustration. Tears threatened my eyes. My voice shook. “Mother, would you listen to me, just once. Please. I’m—”

Brenda lifted her hand to stop me. “Do not raise your voice to me, Sophia Elizabeth. If you continue to talk this way, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I turned away, instinctively obeying my mother’s command. I stopped before I’d gotten two steps away. A tear trickled down my cheek. Of course this is how my mother would react. She was an expert at ignoring unpleasant truths, of twisting things to fit her worldview, her beliefs. And I’d let her. I’d let her bend me, mold me into who she wanted.

I sniffed, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and turned around. My mother looked up at me with an expression of supreme confidence, sure that she’d won again. That I would do what she wanted. I wanted to rip that smug expression off her face.

“I’m a lesbian, Mother. Is that what you don’t want to hear? Huh?”

My mother turned her head away. I leaned down and got into her face. “Is that the worst possible thing I could tell you?”

“Yes.”

“No, it’s not.” I moved my lips to her ear. “I hate you. I’ve hated you ever since you took Nora away from me.”

My mother turned her steely gaze to me. “I didn’t take her from you. You let her go. I know you, Sophia, and you’ve never let anyone tell you what to do. If you loved her as you claim, you wouldn’t have lied to me, and you wouldn’t have let anything stand in your way of being with her. But, you did, didn’t you? You let her leave. You let yourself get pregnant by her boyfriend. If it makes you feel better to hate me, to blame me, go right ahead. But, you created your problems. And you’re going to do it again if you continue to see that woman.”

My chest was heaving with barely suppressed rage. Somehow, I managed to control myself. I straightened, said, “Fuck you, Mother,” and left.

thirteen

sophie

The good people of Lynchfield, Texas, would have been surprised to see me stand up a year ago, eyes wide with fear, hands clenched together so tight they were white, and say in a trembling voice, “My name is Sophie, and I’m an alcoholic.” Drinking was something I did alone and infrequently, but when I did, the binge would last for days. Charlie became a master at covering for me. After a little trial and error, we’d discovered migraines was the best explanation, especially when the binges came too close together to use cramps as an excuse.

Lynchfield was dry, so drinking required a one-hour round trip to the next county over, and the willpower to resist opening the bottle on the drive back to town. The stretch between Lynchfield and Kendel County was the highway patrol’s favorite honey hole. Somehow, I’d avoided being stopped for ten years until driving back from a convention in Austin three hundred and sixty-three days ago.

The euphoria of my night with a beautiful stranger lasted until I exited the hotel parking garage. I turned my blinker toward Lynchfield, and the reality of what waited for me on the other side of the drive hit me. The lie. I considered turning my car away from my life and driving away. Seeing where the road took me. I knew where I would go, and on whose doorstep I would end up. I might have accepted who I