The following is an excerpt from “Waterways,” available for Kindle on Amazon and in print from Sofawolf Press. Kory, a young otter, has been dating Samaki, a black fox, in his senior year of high school. Kory's brother Nick knows he's gay, as does his local priest (Father Joe), but his religious mother does not, though she has met Samaki.

Kory and Samaki's friend Malaya, also gay and a victim of parental abuse, recently left the local gay and lesbian teen center to return to her family.

Kory spent the next day poring over his college applications, shut into his room after church. They would take him a while to figure out. The Whitford and Gulliston applications had essays and neither of them was easy. “Pose a question and then answer it,” was Whitford’s. Gulliston just said, “write an essay,” and didn’t even give him that much. He pored over online essay examples until his eyes and head hurt, and then had to shut off the computer and sit down with a pencil and paper.

The question he really wanted to answer was, “What does it mean for me to be gay?” He didn’t think he could write that and send it off to a college, though. Maybe something about poetry. He could write something like, “Where do my poems come from?” No, that was terrible. Maybe, “What am I trying to accomplish with my poems?” No, that sounded horribly arrogant. “Where should I go to school?” A valid question, but not very original. “Should I listen to my mother?”

He looked down at the paper where he’d written the question. Now, where did that come from? He crossed it out slowly and wrote next to it, “Does God love me?”

That one he looked at for a long time. It had potential: he could talk about the hardships he’d endured and the blessings he’d been given, and discuss some of the theology he’d learned through years of Sunday school. He could even talk about Malaya and her family, his mother’s devout belief in the face of her misfortunes, and Father Joe’s cheerful sermons, if not the talk he’d given Kory last spring, back when Kory was agonizing over his feelings for Samaki.

In retrospect, it was hard to believe he’d resisted the attraction to the fox. Samaki had been a steadfast friend as well as a boyfriend, closer than anyone save for Sal and Nick in Kory’s life, and their lovemaking seemed so natural now that Kory couldn’t remember why he’d spent a whole night in Samaki’s basement sleeping two feet from the fox, terrified to touch him. Father Joe’s reassuring voice had been a huge help in surmounting that wall of fear.

He couldn’t use that in the essay, not without revealing his private life to the admissions officers and whoever else read the essay—he imagined it on the Internet next year at this time, available to all his friends. What he could use was Father Joe’s calm assurance of God’s love.

He jotted down some notes on that essay, and then set about coming up with two more subjects. Neither of the other ones felt as rich to him as his first question, and when he called Samaki that night to talk and told him the questions, the black fox agreed.

“It’s really good to put a positive spin on religion these days,” he said. “Just don’t come off like some sort of home-schooled right-wing wacko.”

“Like I normally do?”

Samaki laughed. “I know. Anyway, you could always just say you’re gay. Gay and religious, that’d get you into any college. Talk about diverse.”

Kory laughed too, but shortly, feeling the pressure on the walls of his internal dam again. After hanging up, he worked on some other homework, and didn’t look at his essays again until he handed them in on Thursday.

Thursday evening, Samaki called him just as they were sitting down to dinner, well before the appointed time. Kory felt a prickling as he stepped out of the room to accept the call. “Kory, dinner is ready,” his mother said sharply. “You can talk on the phone later.”

“Just a minute,” he said vaguely, staring at the phone. Samaki wouldn’t call at this time unless it was important. He braced himself, and hit Talk.

“Malaya’s in the hospital,” Samaki said. “Margo just called to let me know.”

“Which hospital?” he said numbly. His mother stepped into the room and held out her paw, glaring at him.

“Westfield General,” Samaki said into his ear.

Instead of placing the phone in his mother’s paw, Kory looked up at her and repeated, “Westfield General. Westfield’s over past the river, right?”

“That’s right. Can you go over there tonight? I’m going in a minute. Mom’s just getting the kids dressed to go out.”

His mother’s expression had softened at the name of the hospital. “I’ll try,” Kory said.

“She’d probably like to see you the most.”

“I’ll try,” he repeated. “We just started dinner.” As soon as he said it, he was aware of how inane it sounded.

“What’s wrong?” his mother asked. “Is it Samaki?”

He nodded, as Samaki said, “All right. I’ll see you there.”

He hung up with a warm flush that the fox understood him even when he said something silly. “Is he all right?” his mother was saying. “Why is he in the hospital?”

“He’s not. Oh, no, I mean, that was him calling. One of the kids from the shelter is in the hospital. She was a friend of mine. Can we go, Mom?”

“It’s a school night, and besides, there’s nothing you can do for her, is there?”

He holstered his phone, and shook his head. “But I want to see her. I want to let her know that I’m there for her. She probably got put in the hospital by her father.”

“Her father!” His mother’s eyes looked sharply past him. “You don’t want to get mixed up in another family’s business.”

“I just want to let her know she’s not alone.”

She wavered, looked back into the kitchen, and then put a paw on his shoulder. “Let’s eat quickly, and then we’ll go.”

Nick came with them, following silently out to the car and into the back seat as his mother started it up. At first, Kory thought Nick was just seizing on an excuse to avoid homework, but as they pulled out onto the street, he reached along the window and patted Kory’s shoulder.

Kory turned and smiled, then sat forward and watched the lights speed past the windshield. He shouldn’t let his imagination wander, but he couldn’t help seeing Malaya’s skeletal hand reach up over the porch, remembering the fragile body she tried to conceal with her tough manner. He wished he’d taken that hand and held it then. What if it were shattered now, what if it was too late? He pictured her bleeding from the head, paralyzed, back broken, and shook the images from his mind.

“How did she end up back with her father?” his mother asked. They had just merged onto the expressway. “I thought your kids had been taken away from unsuitable families.”

“She went back to him,” Kory said. “She didn’t have anything but her family, and she thought everything else was a lie.”

“A lie? What does that mean?”

“We kept telling her she’d be okay, that she deserved to have a normal life, but she didn’t believe it.” He was too upset to give much thought to the words he used.

“Oh. Is she...special?”

He jerked his head to the side to look at his mom. “No!”

“Well, what do you mean, have a normal life?”

Now he was fully aware of how close he was to dangerous ground. Her stare probed for cracks in his armor. He looked straight ahead again. “You know, because she was abused.” Another lie, but only a partial one, at least.

His mother stayed silent after that, but he could feel her disapproval of anyone who didn’t take steps to solve their own problems. The Lord helps those who help themselves, he knew she was thinking, even though she didn’t voice it. Her sense that something about him was wrong might have been diverted, but surely it was only a temporary reprieve.

Kory’s only experience with hospitals had been at St. Michael’s when Nick broke his arm playing on the playground in second grade. Westfield General looked nothing like his gleaming white memory of St. Mike’s. The carpet of the lobby, dull grey, felt tacky under his paws, and the antiseptic smell made his fur prickle, but he ignored that as he walked past the battleship-grey walls to the dimly lit reception desk and the tired-looking deer behind it.

“I’m here to see Malaya Bahar,” Kory said, aware of the jangling of his nerves. His fingers drummed the desk; his tail twitched restlessly.

The nurse consulted her computer screen. “She’s in 405, but visiting hours are over in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s okay, we’ll hurry.” He turned to his mother and said, “I’ll be back down soon.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Come on, Nick.” Taking Nick by the paw, she strode toward the elevator.

Kory squeezed his paws together, then hurried after her. “But Mom, you don’t know her.”

“I’d like to meet her. You’re clearly important to her, aren’t you?”

The elevator was taking forever to show up. He shifted from one foot to the other, and didn’t respond. “Well?” his mother said. “Is she just a friend?”

“Yes!” Kory almost laughed at the thought of him dating the dark, grim Malaya.

“Well, I just wondered. You did spend so much time helping at that home, and it was right after you and Jenny split up.”

Nick had wrested free of his mother’s hand and now stood silently behind her. He met Kory’s eyes and rolled his own. Kory nodded to him, and said, “She’s not my girlfriend,” just as the elevator arrived.

The elevator doors opened onto a jumble of bright reds, yellows, and blues. Cartoon characters cavorted over the walls, and in a corner of the large waiting room, yellow plastic toys lay strewn over the gaily patterned carpet and rounded plastic chairs. It took a moment to see the worn patches in the carpet, the white scars on the cartoon characters, the cracks in the chairs. In one corner of the lobby, Mrs. Roden and Mariatu were playing some game with a little toy, while Ajani and Kasim sat nearby, kicking their legs. The two boys jumped up when they saw Kory and ran over to him.

“Hey there,” he said, hugging back, looking down the hallway.

“Kory!” Ajani said. “I’m so bored.”

“I’m not,” Kasim said, the lie as evident as his pride in telling it.

“Ajani,” Mrs. Roden said with gentle reproach. His ears folded down, his bushy red tail curling underneath himself. She greeted Kory’s mother and Nick, and said, “I’m so glad you could make it. It’ll mean a lot to her, poor thing.”

“Mom, you want to wait here with Mrs. Roden?” Kory said.

“No, no, I’ll come along.”

“But maybe they don’t want too many visitors there at once.”

Mrs. Roden waved a paw. “She’s stable and awake, if a little muzzy. They have her on Temerol. We just came out here because Mari and the boys were bored.”

“I’m still bored,” mumbled Ajani. “I wish I had my comic books.”

“Just recite them to yourself, dear.”

“Mom!” Kasim protested.

She smiled, one paw grooming the fur between Mariatu’s ears. “We do need to leave soon, though. Would you tell Sammy when you get down there, Kory?”

Kory nodded. “Sure.” He hurried off down the hallway, hoping that if he moved quickly enough, he could ditch his mother. What if Malaya called Samaki his boyfriend in front of her? The click of her claws on the tile floor followed him. For a moment, he considered giving Nick a look that would enlist his help, but then he drove the worries from his mind. They only had a few minutes, and Malaya was more important than him worrying about what his mother would think. Though it was a good sign that Mrs. Roden was in good spirits.

Though the hallway walls were white, each door was a different color. They passed a bulletin board with a number of crayon drawings tacked up onto it: “A leukemia germ,” “Get well Marky,” and untitled illustrations of home, hospital beds, and children in casts. Kory scanned the numbers and then heard Samaki’s voice, and padded quickly toward it.

“I only had one other person in my room at St. Mike’s,” Nick said behind him as they entered the room. Samaki looked up from the farthest of the three beds on the left as Kory entered. The black fox gave him a wave and a brief smile. Kory padded quickly around to his side, looking down at the bed.

Malaya’s eyes, half-lidded, followed him partway around and then gave up, drifting back to where his mother and Nick were approaching. Her right arm lay across her stomach, encased in plaster, and one of her ears drooped with the weight of taped bandages. The other still bore a silver stud, but that was the only trace of the old rebellious Malaya. In the hospital gown, she looked sick, not goth. “Hey,” Kory whispered, then asked Samaki, “Is she awake?”

“Yeah,” the black fox said, and looked up, acknowledging Kory’s mother and Nick with a short wave.

Malaya stirred, now turning her head toward Kory, blinking slowly. “Kory?”

“Hey.” He smiled.

“Told you,” she said, “didn’t I?”

“Told me what?”

Her eyes had drifted over to the other side of the bed. “Who’s that?”

“Malaya, this is my mom and my brother Nick.”

They both whispered hellos. The bat turned back to Kory and Samaki. “Kory knows,” she said. “He wasn’t trying...to sell me on a rainbow.”

Kory exchanged a bewildered glance with Samaki, and then decided to ignore the comment. “So how are you feeling?”

“Feel...” She raised her arm an inch, let it drop, and winced. “Like shit. How’s it look?”

“How did this happen?” Kory saw his mother flinch at the language. Maybe another swear or two would drive her out.

“He did it. Course.”

Samaki whispered, “Margo said the hospital banned her father from seeing her. There’s a social services worker coming to interview her.” Kory felt a knot of anger form in his chest, bright and hot. He clenched a fist at his side.

“Social services,” Malaya shook her head back and forth in a full one-eighty. “Bunch of fucking morons.”

“You really don’t need to use that kind of language,” Kory’s mother said reprovingly.

Malaya looked at her again and said, “Don’t need to. But I like to.”

“It doesn’t serve any purpose.”

The bat turned back to Kory. “I haven’t had a mom in twelve years. I don’t need one now.”

“Mom,” Kory said, louder than he’d meant to, but his mother had drawn herself up, whiskers twitching and mouth pursed shut, her ears flat back.

The nurse broke the uncomfortable silence, announcing that there were only five minutes left. Kory’s mother grasped Nick’s paw and turned to head for the door, then turned. “Kory, come on. Time to go.”

Kory didn’t move. His paw hurt from how tightly he was clenching it. “What happened?”

Malaya’s rattling laugh made Kory’s fur prickle. “Teen Vogue. Caught me reading Teen Vogue. Told me I had to cast Satan out. I told him...Satan has pretty dresses.” She indicated the bandage on her ear with her good hand. “Hit me in the head. Knocked me down.” She lifted her cast. “Broke my arm pulling me up.”

Kory looked up at the nurse, an elderly wolf beckoning them with a gloved paw. His mother had listened to Malaya’s speech and now was dragging Nick past the nurse and out. He wanted to tell Malaya that it wasn’t right, that he’d help her and protect her, but she knew it wasn’t right, just as she knew there was nothing he could do. Social services or not, once she was out of the hospital she would go back to her father eventually and this would happen again until maybe it wasn’t a hospital she’d wind up in, but wherever her mom had gone. He wanted to tell her not to go back, but the words got jumbled together in his throat and nothing he could say would be more than a crayon “get well soon” drawing she could tack on the hallway of her mind and look at while her father was hitting her. “We gotta go,” Kory said.

“We’ll come back and visit when we can.” Samaki leaned over and squeezed her hand.

Malaya nodded. Her eyes closed slowly as they followed Kory’s mother out.

“Well, if anyone needs help, she does,” Kory’s mother said softly as they walked down the hall. “You’re to be commended for your charity, Kory.”

Samaki’s tail brushed against his, safely out of sight. Kory worked to unclench his paw and relax. “I wish I could do more.”

“Her father sounds like one of those Baptists.”

“I don’t know, exactly.”

“He must be, to think Vogue is sinful. Talking about casting out Satan.” She made a ‘tch’ sound with her tongue.

Kory had been wondering that himself, but the brush of Samaki’s tail against his, reminding him of their shared secret, gave him the answer. “He thought she was looking at the women.” He only realized after he said it that he’d said it loudly enough for everyone to hear.

They had just arrived in the gaily colored lobby. With one final tail-tag, Samaki left Kory and padded over to his family. Ajani said, “Can we go now?”

Kory’s mother had half-turned to look at him, her brow creased. “The women?”

Mrs. Roden, holding Mariatu in one arm, distracted her before Kory could respond. “Are you all leaving now, too?”

“We have to,” Kory said. “Visiting hours are over.”

The elevator dinged. Doors creaked open. “Come on,” Mrs. Roden said. “We’ll all ride down together.”

The two moms talked about recipes and pointedly skirted the subject of Malaya, while Ajani and Kasim both tried to talk to Kory at the same time, Ajani telling him about the latest comic book and Kasim trying to talk about one of his cartoon shows. He listened to their chatter with one ear, catching Samaki’s eye and noticing that the black fox wasn’t smiling, either. The violet eyes reflected Kory’s pain, if not so much the anger. Kory tried to suppress his own, knowing it wasn’t Samaki’s way, knowing it wouldn’t help, that what was needed was for him to be Malaya’s friend and support her. It was hard to let go, and it was compounded by the black fox’s presence three feet away, because all Kory wanted right now was to hug him and tell him how unfair it was for a bright, funny girl to be lying dazed and broken in a hospital bed, but with his mother in the elevator, he didn’t dare. They shared the thought with their eyes, but eyes couldn’t encircle him warmly, wrap a tail around him and squeeze him, rub a muzzle against his and kiss his cheek softly. His fur and skin ached for that touch, and to see Samaki so close just fed the small, hot anger he felt at Malaya’s father.

It all came from the same thing, didn’t it? His mother wouldn’t knock him down and break his arm—probably couldn’t—but she wasn’t so different from Malaya’s father. Not in spirit. He disliked her intensely for a moment, a spike of rage that simmered down as Kasim pulled on his shirt, distracting him. Perversely, his annoyance spread, encompassing his whole situation. Why did he have to be trapped in this life where he couldn’t be honest with his family and friends about the people he loved? Why did Samaki have to come along and drag him into this? If he’d never met the fox, he’d never have met Malaya, and he wouldn’t be here in the hospital in an elevator that felt more and more claustrophobic by the minute.

He met Samaki’s eyes again, and instantly felt bad. If he hadn’t met Samaki, then he wouldn’t know Samaki. He wouldn’t want that. It was everyone else causing the problems. Guilt flushed his ears, still warm as the elevator doors opened.

As they left the elevator, the Rodens all milled around one end of the lobby, away from where Kory’s mom had parked. They said good-byes, Mrs. Roden promising to call, Kory’s mother saying she hoped to see Samaki again soon. Kory and Samaki squeezed paws in a firmer-than-usual grip and said goodbye with their eyes. “Call ya tomorrow,” Kory said, and Samaki nodded.

“What did you mean, she was looking at women?” his mother asked as they left. Kory groaned inwardly. Of all the things for her to latch on to.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, feeling his paws tighten into fists again. Relax, he willed them.

“Is she homosexual?”

The carefully controlled distaste with which his mother said that word sent a jolt through Kory’s chest. He snapped his head up and opened his mouth to say something noncommittal like “I don’t know,” but different words boiled out. “What does it matter?”

His mother blinked. “Of course, at that age she’s still vulnerable to urges. If she was being approached by homosexuals, she could be confused.”

“Her father beat her up and broke her arm.”

“Lower your voice,” his mother snapped. “You’re too young to know what you’re talking about. You have to protect children from those people while they’re at an impressionable age.”

“Mom, that’s so lame.” Kory had almost forgotten Nick was with them. His younger brother looked at Kory around his mother’s dress, his eyes wide in warning.

“Quiet, Nick.”

“He’s right,” Kory said. “It is lame. You think you can protect us?”

They had left the hospital and now walked along the sidewalk back towards the car. “The Lord knows I’m doing the best I can.” When Kory snorted, not trusting himself to speak, his mother turned around, paws on her hips. “What is so amusing, young man?”

“Nothing,” he said, glaring at her.

“Come on, let’s get home.” Nick tugged hard on his mother’s arm, his eyes pleading with Kory: Don’t!

She ignored Nick, staring back at Kory. “Have you been approached by homosexuals, Kory?”

“Oh, I sure have, Mom,” he said, the words spilling out. He wanted to hurt her. His heart was pounding. “They got me. There wasn’t anything you could do.”

As soon as he said it, Nick groaned, and Kory wished he could take the words back. His mother didn’t scream, or strike him, or gape in disbelief. She stared at him for a moment, then turned around and walked for the car again, Nick firmly in tow.

Kory stood, bewilderment overcoming anger for the moment, and hurried after them. His mother’s ears swiveled back, hearing his footsteps, and she shook her head. “Father Joe said you’d go through this stage.”

Now Kory’s fur prickled and he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the crisp evening wind. “What?” Father Joe had told him their talks would be confidential.

“He said all teenagers go through a rebellious stage. You obviously feel sorry for that poor girl and...you’re lashing out at me. That’s okay. God gives me the strength to handle it. If you really are confused about homosexuals, you can talk to Father Joe about it.”

“I already have,” Kory said.

“Oh.” This stopped her only for a moment. “I don’t mind that you went to him first. It’s natural for you to hesitate to talk to me. It’s part of that stage you’re in. Well, if he can’t help, there’s a camp you can go to that will clear it all up.”

“I’m not going to be brainwashed,” Kory said. He wondered how much Father Joe had told her. Not what he’d initially feared, it seemed. “And stop calling it a ‘stage’.”

“Oh, Kory,” his mother sighed. “The Lord works in mysterious ways. The camp may be just what you need anyway.”

“Just what I need? For what?”

They all climbed into the car. His mother didn’t say anything until they were on the street. “A little discipline, a father figure. I know...I read about cases like this. You’re missing a strong male authority figure. I tried to compensate with sports and that church retreat.”

“That’s what that was about?” Nick said from the back seat.

His mother continued as though he hadn’t said anything. “But you never took to sports. I should have known you’d need more. I’ll go find the information on those camps, and if you’re still persisting in this fantasy, we can sign you up for the summer before you go to college. See? It’s an easy problem to solve.”

Looking across the seat, Kory fumed at her placid expression. “It’s not a problem, and it doesn’t need to be solved,” he said.

“This girl in my class kissed another girl right in front of--”

“Nicholas!” His mother acknowledged Nick now, sharply.

“Seriously,” Kory said, “I’ve read about those camps, you know. Have you?”

“I don’t want to discuss that right now. I just want you to know that I’m willing to help you with this problem, Kory. I love you.”

The words sounded forced out. Kory stared at her. “Yeah, Mom. You and God. Right?”

“I know it might be hard for you to believe.”

“When you talk about sending me away to camp to fix me, it is.”

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “If you broke your leg, I’d send you to the hospital. Would you not want that, either?”

“Nothing’s broken!” Kory yelled.

She stopped at a red light, slamming the brake hard. “Lower. Your. Voice,” she snarled back. The light turned green. She rolled through in silence to the freeway on-ramp. “I don’t know whether you’re really feeling these things or if you’re just acting out some kind of rebellious impulse because you know it will upset me, but either way you need to learn how to behave normally.”

“Rebellious impulse?” he gaped at her. “You think this is about you?”

“Of course not,” she said with false sincerity. “It’s about your need to have your own space, to define your identity independent of me. I know I haven’t given you everything you need, Kory, and I’m sorry about that. But it’s important that whatever you think you’re feeling, you talk about it and make sure we can head it off before it becomes any more of a problem. Nicholas, that goes for you too.”

He folded his arms and stared straight ahead at the road. Lightposts and other cars sped by them while Kory tried to figure out how he would talk about it with his mother so that she would leave him alone. As they exited the freeway, she said, “It’s that fox, isn’t it? He’s the one putting ideas in your head.”

“His name’s Samaki. You’ve eaten dinner with him.”

She turned onto their street. “Well, you’re not to see him any more.”

Kory laughed. “You going to ground me all the rest of the year until I go to college?”

“If I have to.”

“I’ll sneak out of the house. I’ll go directly from school.”

She stopped the car in the driveway. “As long as you’re living under my roof and eating my food, you’ll obey me.”

Kory found that his paws were shaking as he got out of the car, following his mother to the house with Nick close behind. “You’re just like Malaya’s father.”

When she whirled to face him, her eyes glowed. “How dare you,” she whispered. “I would never raise a paw to you. I have loved you, fed you, sheltered you...”

“Except when it mattered,” Kory said defiantly.

They both knew he was not talking about being gay. Mouth open, she stopped, turned, and opened the door. Paw on the knob, she stopped just inside. “That was not my fault,” she said. “I can only control what I do. I can’t be responsible for the behavior of others.”

“Except me, apparently.”

“Of course, you. You’re my son.” She closed the door after Nick and locked it emphatically. “I’m just glad you talked to me before you acted on any of these so-called ‘feelings.’ Lord knows what might have happened otherwise.”

Kory stared at her, and when she’d hung up her coat and turned around, she saw his expression. He made no attempt to hide anything from her. It was a relief to let the dam burst, all the things he’d hidden from her for the last six months plain to see on his face. He watched her eyes meet his, widen, and flick to his room, and he could tell the moment when she began counting up all the times Samaki had stayed overnight because her jaw dropped, slightly, and then her eyes narrowed. “Kory James Hedley,” she said, “you had better not mean what I think you mean.”

His heart pounded hard in his chest again. “What if I do?” he said.

“Don’t be insolent with me, young man.” She strode toward him.

“What are you going to do, break my arm?” He lifted his chin. “For being in...in love?” He’d never used that word to talk about Samaki, but he needed its weight in this argument, wanted to hit her with it as she was hitting him with her God and her motherhood.

“That is not love,” she started.

He interrupted, yelling, “Didn’t you tell me God is about love? Didn’t Father Green preach that every Sunday, and Father Joe every Sunday since then?”

“Don’t you throw the Lord into this. He is about love and this is not love.” She matched his pitch. He saw Nick standing frozen at the door of his room, his eyes like saucers.

“How do you know that?”

“Because love doesn’t make you defile my house,” she cried, and then, as if to herself, “Oh, dear Lord, I’m going to have to get the carpet cleaned now. I always hated that smell.”

“What smell? My boyfriend’s smell?” He’d been mad enough when she was only judging him, but to bring Samaki into it set his blood racing faster still. “You...you goddamned bigot.”

Her ears flattened all the way. “Don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain, you sinner,” she hissed. “And how dare you sit in judgment of me. I clothed you, fed you, raised you...”

“And somehow I turned out okay anyway.”

“You ungrateful child. You’re not even repentant.”

Kory folded his arms and shook his head, vaguely aware that part of him was shaking as badly as Nick was, but anger kept his defiance up. He looked his mother in the eye and said, “You’re the one who should be repentant.”

She breathed hard for a few heartbeats and then raised a paw and pointed at the door. “Get out of my house. Get out right now.”

Kory spun on his heels and unlocked the door. He heard her yell after him, “And don’t you come back until you’re prepared to—, ” but he never heard what he should be prepared to do, because he drowned out her last word with a loud slam that rattled the glass in the door.

He stood on his front walk, listening to the fan in the car engine. Crickets chirped nearby. Otherwise, his suburban street had settled in for the night, at the late hour of 9:32, by his cell phone. Slowly, his heartbeat eased. He was waiting, he realized, for his mother to come out and tell him to come back in, whereupon he could angrily tell her that he didn’t want to come back in, could turn his back on her pleading.

He folded his ears down against the breeze. What had just happened here was a real event, not just a fight, the culmination of the past year of Kory’s growth apart from the path his mother had so carefully laid out for him. He’d started to hide things from her, not just little things like the occasional beer or the pictures he found on the Internet, but big things like his relationship and his work at the Rainbow Center. She didn’t even really know him anymore, not the things that were most important to him. He glanced back at the house and felt in his heart that it was just his mother’s house now, no longer his home. That quickly, he’d cut himself loose.

Read Kory's whole story: how he met Samaki, realized he was gay, and how it changed his life, in “Waterways,” available for Kindle on Amazon and in print from Sofawolf Press. You can read the first and second parts online for free: “Aquifers” and “Streams,” on yiffstar.com.