Part 5 of ?

I have to backtrack from graduation for a moment, to add in family drama.  What would a good Christian-turned-gay story be without family drama?  The first family member to know was my father.  His and my relationship had been rocky, and I finally told him because I knew it was the worst thing I could tell him.  It would either make him shun me completely, or we could start building a relationship again from the ground up.

He did a little preaching, a little "thought you knew better," a decent amount of "of course I love you."  He commented that the daughter of an old friend of his "went through a phase like this."  I promptly facebook messaged her; cue another good friend for us (hint: it wasn't a phase).  We started talking again.  We didn't talk about my relationship, of course, but things were improving.

V told her mom on Easter break of senior year, a year exactly since our first kiss.  She was told that she was going to hell.  Surely Lina knows better, with her father being a pastor.  Jesus isn't happy with you.  I love you, but this is wrong.

I told my mom shortly thereafter.  The next time V and I went to visit her, she made us sleep in separate rooms, whereas before we'd always shared the queen-sized air mattress.  I protested.  If I hadn't told you, I asked, would we still both be sleeping on the air mattress?  Yes.  So the fact that I told you the truth is not in my best interest?  I guess not.

(Things have gotten better in all three cases.  Getting married helped.)

And then, we graduated.  Glorious, beautiful graduation.  The knowledge that no one could take away my hard-earned education simply because I was in love.  The fact that I could tell people I was in love, without fear of recrimination.  The ease with which I breathed.  The kiss we had, on campus, after night fell on graduation day.