“Sorry, Meat Ball,” Lee eventually allowed. “It’s not exactly a riveting tale of scandal and drama. My mom died when I was about eight. My dad was way more interested in drinking himself to death so he could spend eternity berating her for leaving him than he ever was in raising either one of us, and when I was fourteen, he got his wish, so much for my mom resting in any kind of peace. Chuck was like nineteen, twenty; a real big man 'cuz he inherited the house and ‘all the money,’ all fifty bucks or whatever my dad mighta had left. He wasn’t gonna have no faggot living in hishouse, right? Like where else was I gonna go? That’s what he’ll never quote-unquote forgive: I left anyway, and ‘nobody makes a fool out of Chuck Neustetter.’ Like that’sso hard to do. It was his way or the highway, and I made my choice.”
“And so today...?”
“Barely cracked the door. ‘You still a faggot? You sure look like you’re still a faggot. We still got a real strict No Faggot rule ‘round here.’”