Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy (36 page)

“Clay, Clay. For God’s sake, come out of it.
Are you alright?”

“Hell no I’m not alright. I’ve just learned
my sister’s a lesbian, and I should be alright? How the hell do you
know you’re a lesbian? Just because this damn woman tells you
you’re a lesbian?”

Clay was waving his arms, making wild
exaggerated gestures looking as if he had totally lost control of
his senses. Lizzy had her hand on his moving arm and was talking,
pleading with him to try to understand and calm down. Irish
continued to stand in front of him, smiling. Smiling!

“What the hell are you smiling about? Do you
think this is funny? God damn it, stop smiling.”

“No Clay, I do not think this is funny. I
think you are pathetic. Your sister came to you for understanding
and you’re acting like an ignorant fucking redneck.
Oh, my God,
they’re lesbians
.
Lesbians. Everyone, I’m a lesbian, and so
is my girlfriend
.” Irish was shouting loud enough for everyone
within hearing range to get an earful.

Cringing from the startled and disapproving
looks cast their way by those people near enough to have heard
Irish clearly, he tried to calm down and assess the situation.
Lizzy is gay. How are Mom and Dad going to handle this if he was
any indication of what to expect as an initial reaction. Thank God
it’s Lizzy’s problem to address.

Since adolescence her relationships with men
had been less than spectacular. In fact they had been down right
awful. But, is sleeping with another person of the same sex worse
than being used by someone of the opposite sex and then cast aside?
He knew enough details from the rumor mill and from talking to
Lizzy to accept she had dated man after man trying to make
something of a normal relationship with one of them. Who was he to
judge her morality? But he and his peers had been raised knowing
gay people were sick perverts to be shunned and avoided if their
sexual preference was found out. However, if he continued to hold
an unwavering stance the sister he loved would have to be
pronounced a social leper; an untouchable.

Clay stood up, rolled his head back and
looked toward the sky through the densely woven oak branches. Even
without the knowledge of how this revelation would eventually play
out he knew in his heart he could not condemn and abandon Lizzy.
Slowly he started to grin from ear to ear while shaking his head
from side to side. Lowering his gaze and taking a deep breath he
said, “Lizzy, I hope to hell you don’t have any more surprises in
store for me today, because I’m not sure I can take anything bigger
than this.”

Lizzy had stood up and moved to stand beside
Irish in front of Clay while waiting for him to continue.

Clay extended his right hand toward Irish,
“Irish, let’s start over. I’m Clay, Lizzy’s brother. I’m pleased to
meet you, even if you are a lesbian. I don’t think I’ve ever met
one before, so please excuse my ignorance and bad manners.”

“Apology accepted. Lizzy has talked about you
a lot, and is quite proud to have you for her brother. I hope this
handshake really means we can become friends.”

“Yes, we can be friends, and just friends.
Part of my initial shock was because I was thinking of what I’d
like to do with you; and then learned my sister is already doing
it. Well, sort of.”

“Clay! I can’t believe you.” Lizzy grinned
mischievously, “But then I didn’t envision us competing for the
same lover either.” Lizzy continued, getting serious again, “I’m
sorry to spring it on you like this. I knew I had to tell you but
didn’t know how. I didn’t think you could hate me for it, but I
wasn’t sure of how you’d react either.”

“Well, if making a fool of myself is
acceptable, I guess I took it rather well.”

“This didn't just happened, and it has
nothing at all to do with last October,” Lizzy continued. “I've
know my attraction to girls was strong starting with puberty. I
also had been taught that it was unacceptable socially and should
be suppressed. Only, it finally became so apparent I wasn’t cut out
to be heterosexual that I had to stop trying to fool myself. Can
you even begin to imagine how confused I was? And then I met Irish.
She had accepted it much earlier than I, and had gone through
basically the same pain and distress I was experiencing. She helped
me to understand and accept what and who I am. And while we were
confiding in each other, we fell in love. I’ve never felt this way
before, or been happier.”

“Now I understand why you didn’t want Mom or
Dad to walk in while we were talking. How are you going to break
the news to them?”

“I was. kind of hoping you would help me with
them. Please.”

“Oh no, not me. This is your problem. I
absolutely won’t do it. No. No way. Stop looking at me. Both of you
stop it. Go away.”

Clay and Walter had gone to the living room
while Margaret finished washing the supper dishes. Walter was laid
back in his recliner reading the sports section and Clay was
sitting in an overstuffed chair; fidgeting. Fingers drumming on the
cloth arms, legs crossed with the suspended foot rocking back and
forth. Back and forth. Squirming in the seat. Switching legs.
Closing his eyes, breathing deeply, exhaling slowly. Thinking of
what to say and how to say it. Thinking; will Lizzy be disowned;
will I have to move out? Will Mom have a nervous breakdown, or a
heart attack? Or both? At the same time? How in the hell did they
talk me into this? How should I lead into it? I could talk about
how happy Elizabeth has been recently. Talk about the improvement
in her school grades. Tell them she smiles a lot more than she used
to. Oh yeah. You'll impress the hell out of them.

Margaret finally finished banging things
around in the kitchen and came into the living room. “Are you
alright,” she directed a question to Clay and reached out to feel
his forehead. “You don’t look well. Are you feeling O.K.? I hope
you aren’t coming down with something.”

“Well…I,” he stammered, cleared his throat
and took another deep breath. “There is a situation I want to
discuss with you and Dad.”

Walter had a smug look and was thinking the
business he had no faith in was in trouble and Clay needed help.
“How bad is your financial situation?” he asked.

“I wish it were as simple as money Walt, but
it has nothing to do with money.”

Margaret took a seat on the couch, put her
hands in her lap, turned toward Clay while staring directly at him,
and waited. Walter lowered his newspaper, tilted his head down to
peer over his reading glasses and waited. And waited.

Clay cleared his throat again and blurted
out, “Lezzys a lisbian.”

There was silence except for the tick, tick,
tick, of the brass horseshoe and horse clock on top of the
television. Total silence. Dead of night, graveyard, total
silence.

Walter cocked his head to the right side,
laid his paper down, and squinted with both eyes, still looking
directly at Clay.

Margaret straightened her back, sitting
rigidly frozen on the couch, eyes opened slightly larger than
usual, mouth tightly closed, staring directly at Clay.

“What did you say?” Walter and Margaret spoke
in unison, both still unflinching in their positions. Clay had a
fleeting image of two mannequins addressing him, demanding an
explanation. Pronto.

“Lizzy’s a lesbian.”

Margaret beat Walter by a split second in
regaining her composure. “If you are attempting to be funny, you
are failing miserably.”

Walter, talking at the same time as Margaret,
came out with, “What in the hell are you talking about. Lizzy, a
lesbian? She dates men all the time. What the hells wrong with you
Clay, talking about your little sister behind her back?”

Clay sat in his chair, both feet on the
floor, elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands, his
mind racing, Oh shit, did I ever screw this up. Now what do I
do?

Moving from the seat cushion in the chair, he
sat on the left arm of the chair, right across from Margaret.
“Look,” he said, “I’m sorry I blurted it out. It wasn’t supposed to
go this way. Lizzy asked me to talk to both of you about it. I’m as
shocked as each of you. I just learned about it today and she and
Irish talked me into coming to you first.”

Both parents said, “Irish, who is Irish?”

“Irish Rose, Lizzy’s friend”

“What the hell kind of name is Irish Rose?
Who is she and where did she come from? Why haven’t we heard of her
before?” were questions Walter wanted answered.

“Look, they’re both coming over at seven
thirty, you can meet her then. She’s actually a very nice person; a
very nice and beautiful person. Her mother named her Iris Rose but
she changed Iris to Irish, because she is Irish. Look, I know how
you feel; I had the same reaction this afternoon when they told me.
But, whether we like it or not Lizzy discovered she is attracted to
women and not men. And she’s happier now than she’s ever been.
Surely you’ve noticed how she goes around smiling and singing
lately. She’s finally in love for the first time in her life.
Please try to accept who and what she is and be happy for her. I
discovered I don’t care if she loves a man or a woman, as long as
she’s happy. And I’ve never seen her as happy. I know it's
unconventional and it’s going to be embarrassing when friends and
family learn of it and start questioning us about it. Lizzy fought
to be like the rest of us for most of her life but she isn’t like
us. She had to admit it and now we have to accept it or we lose
her. It’s not like she’s become something dirty and evil. She and
Irish are in love and their relationship is as beautiful as any
between a man and a woman. Personally, I’ve accepted it and I can
live with it. The next question is, can you? It’s almost seven now
and they’ll be here at seven thirty. Do you want me to leave you
alone so the two of you can talk?”

Walter had moved his chair to a sitting
position while Clay spoke. He and Margaret now looked at each
other. Walter shrugged his shoulders, rolled his eyes back, nodded
his head and said, “Ohhhh yes, we need to talk.”

Margaret took a deep breath, leaned back into
the cushions and said, “Yes; we definitely do need to talk.”

Clay went to the refrigerator for four
bottles of Schlitz, handed his Mom and Dad each one and carried the
other two bottles out to the front porch swing.

He was just finishing the last beer when a
blue Volvo two door sedan pulled up to the curb in front of the
house. Lizzy was in the passenger seat and Irish was driving.

Both women appeared apprehensive, Lizzy more
so than Irish, as they approached the house, walking hand in
hand.

Lizzy asked, “How did it go?”

“I think alright. They’ve been in there for
thirty minutes discussing what I said. So far I haven’t heard any
loud noises, and no ambulance has arrived. I’ll go in with you for
the introduction, and then I’m going to get another beer and come
back out here.”

Stepping into the living room, Clay saw both
parents standing up, ten feet or so apart. They must have heard the
car pull up, or heard them talking outside. There was a pile of
used facial tissues on the coffee table and Margaret’s eyes were
red and puffy from crying. Walter looked confused, dejected and
like he had been worn down.

Lizzy went to her mom and gave her a hug and
a kiss, then did the same with Walter. Stepping over to Irish and
taking her hand, she led her closer to Margaret and said, “Mom,
this is my best friend, Irish Rose O’Connor.”

Clay had already entered the kitchen to grab
two more beers. On his way through the living room to the front
door he heard his name mentioned, and part of his disclosure
repeated.

An hour later Irish and Lizzy came through
the front door with Walter and Margaret. All were conversing
cordially and Margaret extended an invitation to both women for
supper a week from Sunday. Clay walked to the car with the girls as
his parents went back into the house. Both women hugged, kissed and
thanked him for his help in preparing the parents. After they had
driven off, Clay felt he didn’t get to hug and kiss Irish in near
the manner he still would like to; even if she wouldn’t get
anything out of it, he might.

T
he following
Wednesday Clay met with Jean White, the real estate agent he had
asked to search for the home he wanted to purchase. She had called
on Tuesday to say she had four new listings to show him. At house
number two he knew he was finished looking and would make an offer
for the house they were touring. It was much bigger than he
actually required, having three bedrooms, three full baths, a half
bath, kitchen, dining room, very large living room, a sun room and
a full basement. But those were not the reason he wanted the house.
He had rejected many houses of equal size and quality until he
noticed this one had a very unusual and unique structural feature.
In the rear basement wall a doorway led into an underground room
behind the main house. The original owner had concrete walls poured
to form a room outside the dimensions of the main house. The
reinforced concrete ceiling became a patio behind the kitchen. The
underground room, originally constructed as a bomb shelter, was
thirty feet wide, by eighteen feet deep. Four cast concrete beams
in the ceiling had steel beams embedded in them and there were no
supports down to the floor. The house sat on a one acre lot, giving
it plenty of space from the prying eyes and ears of neighbors.

Before telling anyone he had bought the
house, he ran electric lines and heating and air conditioning ducts
out to his new work room. After adding connections to the water
supply and utilizing an existing drain already tied to the main
sewer, the basic utilities were complete in his new shop. On his
own he created a laundry room outside the shop with a concealed
doorway so the entrance to the work shop would be off limits to
both family and other guest. He was proud of the concealed door
which he had designed to be practically undetectable.