“I cried and prayed for you, Von.” Ma’s voice tears the memory apart, the brown plastic film from the videotape unraveling in my mind. “I prayed you would be okay,” she continues. “But I knew this neighborhood and I knew that school was too poisonous, especially if what Jack said was true. After that, you didn’t want to talk about it, hid away in your room, and eventually, I assumed you forgot … blocked the memory.” I did forget. She wipes my face. Wipes away the tears, the snot, and whatever else sticks. “You don’t care that I’m gay?” I ask, because that’s what scared me most. I feel a little
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