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A Story By Benjamin H Groff© Groff Media Copyright 2024©

Returning home from basic training, John returned to a place he no longer knew. It was the same one he had left before going ‘to basic,’ but he was different. Between leaving and coming back, John had changed. Or had he accepted something about himself? He didn’t know.

From his perspective, his life was one in which he would have to live in double time: in his time for himself and when he was with his family in a perspective that fit their permissions. He had dated a girl before he left but had broken up with her before he returned. By letter. A ‘Dear Jane’ type of letter, letting her know she could date other guys and that he didn’t expect her to wait for him.

John wrote he would be in no condition as a datable companion if and when he returned. He included a few other words about how training had changed him, getting him ready for the fight, hoping it would get the message across and cause her to continue her life. He had been ranked and assigned to maintenance crews stateside for two years, which was the reality of his assignment.

When John arrived back in his hometown, he stepped off the bus, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and the familiar streets of his hometown unfolded before him. It was a hot summer afternoon, and the cicadas droned loudly, filling the heavy air with their constant hum. It should have felt like home, but it didn’t. Everything seemed smaller, almost claustrophobic. The neat houses, the familiar storefronts, even the people who waved at him with a mix of pride and curiosity—none of it felt right.

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder and started walking, the soles of his boots crunching on the gravel. Memories of his time in basic training flooded his mind. The relentless drills, the camaraderie with his fellow soldiers, and the quiet introspection late at night had been a time of transformation, of pushing his limits and discovering parts of himself he had never confronted.

One of those parts was realizing he couldn’t keep living a lie. He’d broken up with Emily in a letter, the words blunt and final. He’d told her that basic training had changed him, but he hadn’t told her how. He hadn’t told her the real reason was that he couldn’t keep pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He’d signed the letter with a shaky hand, hoping she’d understand and move on.

Standing on his childhood street, John felt the weight of his double life pressing down on him. He had come to terms with his identity, but he knew that acceptance came with a price. His family had certain expectations and beliefs, and he didn’t fit into their neat, tidy picture.
The contrast between his inner truth and their external expectations was stark, and it weighed heavily on him.

As he approached his house, he saw his mother standing on the porch, her face lighting up as she saw him. She hurried down the steps, arms outstretched, and he found himself enveloped in her warm embrace.

“Oh, it’s so good to have you home!” – she exclaimed, looking back at him.

“You’ve grown, and you look so strong!”

He forced a smile, nodding.

“It’s good to be home, Mom.”

Inside, the house smelled freshly baked bread and flowers from the garden. His father was in his usual chair, reading the newspaper. When he saw his son, he stood and nodded in approval.

“Welcome back, son,”

The dad said gruffly.

“You did us proud.”

“Thanks, Dad,”

John replied, ignoring the tight knot in his stomach.

The next few days went by in a blur of family gatherings and catching up with old friends. Everyone wanted to hear about his experiences, basic training, and future in the maintenance crew. John told them what they wanted to hear, leaving out the parts that didn’t fit into their narrative.

One evening, he found himself alone in his room, which felt more like a museum of his past than a place of comfort. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the photos on the wall and the trophies on the shelf. It all felt so distant, so disconnected from who he had become.

He pulled out his phone and stared at Emily’s number. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say a hundred times, but now that the moment was here, he felt paralyzed.

Finally, he typed out a message:

“Hey Emily, I’m back in town. Would you like to meet up sometime? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, and the response came quickly.

“Sure, I’d like that. When and where?”

They agreed to meet at the local coffee shop they used to go to in high school. As John walked there, he felt a mixture of dread and relief. He knew this conversation was necessary, but he also feared the consequences.

Emily was already there when he arrived, sitting at a corner table. She looked up and smiled when she saw him, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Hi,” she said as he sat down. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” he replied, taking a deep breath. “Emily, I need to tell you something, and it’s not easy for me.”

She looked at him, her expression softening.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He looked down at his hands, then back up at her.

“I broke up with you because I couldn’t keep lying. And I couldn’t keep lying to you. I’m gay, Emily. That’s why I ended things. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t keep pretending.”

There was a long silence, and he felt his heart pounding. Finally, Emily reached across the table and took his hand.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly.
“I wish you had told me sooner, but I understand. I’m glad you’re being true to yourself.”

As they parted ways, John felt a sense of relief wash over him. The weight of his secret had been lifted, and he felt lighter, as if their visit had released a burden from his shoulders. He was grateful for Emily’s understanding and acceptance, and he felt a renewed sense of freedom and authenticity.

Returning home, John knew there were still challenges ahead—his family, community, and the double life he would have to navigate. But he also knew that he had taken the first step towards living authentically. For the first time in a long time, he felt a glimmer of hope.