Eleven Months Later
I tear at the wrapping paper of the large, lumpy gift in my lap, tugging away the festive foil until I can lift up the contents . . . a new, hideous Christmas sweater. It’s loud, aggressive and emblazoned with, ‘Don we now our GAY apparel’ in vibrant rainbow lettering, framed with matching neon detailing.
‘Oh . . . thanks mum . . . it’s . . . great’ I mumble. Beside me, Ryker is visibly vibrating with suppressed laughter that only enhances when I elbow him in the ribs, his eyes dancing as he struggles to keep his composure at the sight of my face.
‘Come on baby, put it on’ he manages to force out. I cut him a dark scowl, but it bounces right off him. His smile widening as, across the room, my mother beams from her armchair by the fireplace, her face radiating with pu
