The Swashbuckler by Lee Lynch

Author:Lee Lynch [Lynch, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Gay & Lesbian
ISBN: 9781602822054
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2010-05-01T05:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

Later that week, Frenchy decided she could no longer put off the idea of moving out on her own. She had to tell her mother now, while her need fed her courage.

She stood outside the kitchen door. Her stomach felt like a meat grinder, churning and churning. She nearly lost her courage, but then she tightened her lips, fisted her hands, stepped into the kitchen.

Maman was in pincurls. Her grim little face surveyed Frenchy as if conducting an inspection. She pointed with her chin to Frenchy’s place at the table, then set a plate of pancakes next to juice and syrup.

Frenchy wavered, almost sitting, then decided to stand as straight as she could. “Maman,” she began, her voice barely audible. “Maman,” she said louder, “I decided.”

The face didn’t change, but Maman’s eyes rose to meet her own, as if daring her to say these words.

“I’m moving downtown. I want to try it out.” Now she would sit, hide behind her meal. She chewed automatically, longer than usual, as if trying to swallow sawdust.

Maman had turned her back, her little shoulders bowing under this mountain of suffering. “Je ne sais quoi,” she sighed as she scraped the griddle clean.

Frenchy knew she should answer something, anything, but she just stuffed more pancake into her mouth.

“Sacre Dieu,” said Maman. Was she about to cry, leaning over the sink? No, she straightened her back, not unlike Frenchy had a few moments before, and with a slight gesture of one hand disapproved, accepted, declined further talk on this subject.

Was this it, then, wondered Frenchy? No scene, no tears, no anger? Was this all she’d feared for so many years? Her mother must have been waiting for this news for as long as Frenchy had been avoiding it. Perhaps she’d suspected it was time. Perhaps she had plans of her own. Frenchy’s brother would be visiting that evening. Maybe she would learn her mother’s true reaction then.

She rose. “I’m late, Maman,” she lied, bending to have her cheek kissed. It would be better to leave now, in case her mother was only in shock and the worst was yet to come.

“What?” asked Maman, as if she’d been far away. Frenchy accepted the kiss and left, guilt as heavy in her as the pancakes.

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