Hollow in my Heart

Excerpt

Tristan cleared his throat and drummed his fingertips on his jeans. He sat back against the worn leather chair and stared at his parents, who were seated on the sofa. His mother perched on the end as if expecting to jump at any moment.

"It's really difficult for me to tell you this." If only they would quit staring at him. "But I think you should know. I've wanted to say something for some time now."

"Well, your car doesn't look wrecked and we already know you didn't fail college, so it can't be all that bad," his father joked.

"Yes, whatever the problem is, sweetheart, you can tell us." His mother's smile didn't reach her eyes.

Tristan gave them a half-grin. "Yeah. Um." He cleared his throat for the eight hundredth time and hunched forward. "It's not really a bad thing. At least, I don't think it is." He took a deep breath and went for it. "I'm gay. And before you ask, with well-meaning intentions, yes, I'm sure that I am, and no, I don't just need to find the right girl." He stared at them, trying to meet their eyes. "I know I'm gay. I've known for a long time. I like guys. That's all there is to this." He sat back against the cushions again.

His father stared out the window for a few moments, then focused on his son. He laughed, though it sounded forced.

"There's no need to make a big announcement, Tris. I wondered why you never seemed to have many girlfriends, and I figured that was why. Thanks for telling us, though."

Tristan's heart had begun to ascend from his shoes when his mother stood.

"Don't thank him for anything, Gary," she said. "He tells us something like this, and we're supposed to be grateful?" Her brown eyes zoomed in on Tristan. "We've fed and clothed and loved you for nearly twenty-two years and this is how you thank us?"

"Linda, honey, calm down," Gary interjected, but she waved him off.

Her footsteps thudded against the floor until she loomed over Tristan. "If you tell me right now that you're just trying to upset us, that this is some sick joke, then I'll forgive you."

He gaped. He'd known she wouldn't be thrilled, but this? "I'm not joking, Mom. I just didn't see a reason for keeping it a secret any longer. I'm sorry if that upsets you."

She let out a little screech, then snapped her eyes shut. Through it all, Tristan's father remained silent, though he cast despairing looks at Tristan.

"Mom--" he began, but she cut him off.

"Don't ever call me that again."

"Linda, you're being so unreasonable," Gary said, finally getting up from the sofa. He took hold of his wife's arm. "Honey, let's go to the kitchen and have some coffee, all right?"

"No!" she snapped, shaking loose from his grip. She looked down at Tristan. "You are not my son. You are not to call me Mom or Mother ever again. I will thank the Lord every day," she said, narrowing her eyes, "that I didn't give birth to you."

Tristan drew in his breath with a sharp gasp and Gary said, "Linda!"

Finally, Tristan spoke. "Fine, if that's how you feel." He breathed out and nodded to himself. He'd managed to keep his voice calm and steady. Good. "Now tell me what you mean when you say you didn't give birth to me."

"Linda, don't say another word," Gary ordered.

She ignored him. "I meant just what I said. I did not give birth to you. And I am now truly thankful for that." She stalked out of the room.

Tristan and Gary remained frozen in place until they heard the front door slam. Linda's car engine revved to life. They looked out the front window and watched her pull out of the driveway with a screech of tires, and zoom down the street.

Gary released a long sigh and sat next to his son on the arm of the chair. "Tristan..." He laid his hand on Tristan's shoulder. "I..."

"Is it true?" Tristan asked, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "She's not just speaking in anger?"

His father smoothed back a strand of Tristan's blond hair. "No, son, I'm afraid she isn't. This wasn't the way we wanted--"

"What?" Tristan's heart thudded to his feet. "What the--this can't be..." He sprang to his feet and paced back and forth. "So, were you just gonna keep this from me my whole life? I was honest with you, and look where it got me! I guess we all should have just kept the truth to ourselves, huh?"

"Tris, buddy, please believe me. I never wanted you to find out this way."

Tristan stared at him. "You mean you never wanted me to find out at all. Who the hell am I if I'm not your son? Where did I come from?" He put his head in his hands and massaged his temples.

This had to be a dream. A hallucination. Something. But not real.

Gary put his arms around his son's shoulders. "Come on, let's have some coffee. Or soda. Whatever. And I'll tell you as much as I know." He pulled Tristan close and kissed the side of his head. "You're my son. I love you. Who you love makes no difference to me. I want you to know that."

Tristan's eyes filled with tears and he blinked them away. "Thanks," he squeaked.

He followed his father to the kitchen and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. He flopped down at the table and watched as Gary poured a cup of coffee for himself, then sat down across from him.

"Okay, first I want to say that your mother was completely out of line for what she did," Gary said. "She and I had discussed things, and we intended to tell you soon." He cleared his throat and took a sip from the mug. "Not like that, obviously. We should have told you sooner. I should never have agreed to keep it secret from you, but..." He hesitated.

"What? You said you were going to tell me everything," Tristan said.

He couldn't believe he was hearing this. He must still be asleep.

"Yes, I know. Okay." Another sip of coffee. "Do you want to know about your... birth mother? You may not like what you hear."

"Do you think I'm liking any of this?" Tristan said, his voice rising again. He clutched his drink so hard he thought he might squash the can. "Just go on."

Gary nodded, then sighed. "Your birth mother was young when she gave you up. I believe she was only about nineteen. Maybe a bit younger."

Tristan's throat tightened. He massaged it and gulped.

"She agreed to give you to us. Some girls back out on those decisions, but she didn't." Gary hesitated, then nodded to himself. "She was also about to give up another child because she couldn't care for him any longer."

"I have a brother?" Tristan murmured, feeling his eyes bug out. "Him, you said?"

"A boy, yes. I think he was about four years older than you." Gary folded his hands around the coffee mug. He opened his mouth to say more but Tristan cut him off.

"What was his name? Did they tell you?" His hands went from peach to white.

Gary eyed him. "Calm down, son. I know this must be really weird for you, but you look like you're about to have a stroke or something." He waited but Tristan did nothing except continue to stare at him. "I believe he was called Peter."

"You believe?" Tristan quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, from our conversations with her, she mentioned her first son named Peter." Another sip and he continued. "And if he took her last name, then his name would be Peter Morris. The father was uninvolved with the mother after she became pregnant a second time. All we know is he relinquished his parental rights as soon as he could."

Tristan's heart thudded. "So you don't know who my real father is?"

Gary stared at him, and Tristan bit his lip. "Sorry, Dad. I meant my biological father."

His brain still buzzed with the shock. His parents weren't really his parents, and he had a brother. And his mother--his adoptive mother--hated him. A lot to take in all at once.

Gary smiled. "That's okay. I only know his name, I'm afraid, and... something else." He hesitated. "I... I have to tell you why we've kept this a secret from you. It may not be the best reason, but..." He trailed off, then started again. "Your biological mother begged us not to tell you about her. The adoption was supposed to be open, but after you were born, she said she couldn't bear to have any contact with us. She was so ashamed of herself. She'd had problems with drugs. She swore she was clean while pregnant with you, but she worried that any little thing, including the stress of a baby she couldn't afford, would push her into using again."

"I see."

"I have something else to tell you. Brace yourself. Your birth father died of alcohol poisoning a few months after you were born, and your birth mother died in a car accident when you were about three years old."

"Oh." Tristan didn't cry, though he felt his blood chill.

How could he, when he'd only been told of these people's existence in the past ten minutes? And yet...

"Dad," he said. "I want to find my brother."

Gary frowned. "Are you sure? You don't know him. You don't know what kind of a person he is."

"No, but I know what kind of a person my supposed mother is," Tristan muttered. "So anyone has got to be better than her. I want to find him. You need to tell me everything you know about him." He paused. "Please, Dad."

Gary chewed his lip then sighed. "I wish I could help you, Tris, but I really don't know that much. From what I remember, he'd just been adopted by another family when we adopted you, so he wasn't..." he hesitated. "He wasn't our concern."

Tristan gulped down the rest of his drink to prevent his cheeks from flaming. He wanted to ask why they couldn't have taken in two children. They weren't hurting for money. He wanted to yell at his father for not taking his brother too. But maybe he hadn't had a choice. He couldn't very well have asked the other family to give Peter up.

Instead he said, "If you can just tell me everything you know, that will help. Please."

Gary sighed once more, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. Come on. I've got the paperwork." He stood and headed toward his office.