I wasn't able to sleep, and now I can hear mom and dad arguing. They're not shouting, but the air is so still that I hear them. I climb the stairs, up to the cellar door, to hear them a little better. The way it sounds, they're in the kitchen right outside. Which makes sense; it's the farthest room from any of the bedrooms. Except mine. Perhaps they think I'm asleep. Or, for some reason, maybe they want me to hear it.

That's stupid, why would they want me to hear them argue about me?

"Why would you even open a letter addressed to Timber?" Mom asks.

"It's my house, I have a right to know—"

"But he's a growing colt, he has a right to privacy." She sounds sad.

"Does he have a right to secrets that will ruin our family values?" He sounds sad, too…

"It won't ruin anything if you just accept him."

"How can I? It's unnatural. He's a smart colt, he should know where his body is supposed to go."

"Mill please," she takes a few silent steps, probably toward him. "You have five wonderful sons, your name won't die out." Is she telling him to forget me? Forget me because I'll never have foals of my own? Why not, I guess.

Dad groans, "How can you say that?" Yeah. "He's your son, too, you should want the best for him, like I do." What?

"Maybe this is what's best for him."

"How can it be? He'll never be happy with another stallion, that's impossible!" He's starting to raise his voice.

My heart is pounding. But at the same time, tears are blurring my eyes and my head is spinning. I don't know what I'm feeling.

Mom steps back again. "It's not impossible. He obviously feels happy around Churner."

"No, he's not. Churner obviously forced himself on Timber."

"Think about what you're saying," mom is whispering harshly, "Churner is not a bad pony."

"He obviously doesn't act like it."

"Stop it, Mill, your casting blame at innocent ponies."

"So who should I be mad at, June? Should I be mad at Timber?”

Yes, I think. Be mad at me, it's my fault.

Why am I thinking that?

Dad gets quieter. "I can't - I refuse to believe Timber is some kind of... dandy."

I'm not a dandy, I think. I don't act like a dandy.

"He's not a dandy," mom explains, "you know that."

"I don't know what I know," he snaps, barely whispering. "If Timber wants somepony putting their business up in him, fine, but not in my household. Not in my family."

Dawnette warned me about this, right? She told me my father was old-fashioned. I knew he was. He wasn't supposed to find out.

I had a thought then: maybe I'm not really gay? Maybe I'm just a little confused. Maybe... maybe something happened that made me think a little backward.

I realize I'm crying. Well, I wasn't crying at the door, I'm crying now. You should see me, I'm a wreck. How can I be what dad wants, and what I want? What do I want? I want this all to end. Once I'm living in Manehatten, he won't be able to control me. But I don't want him thinking he's casting me out. It was my choice to leave, not his! He doesn't control me.

...Sorry, again. I really am a wreck, I'm gonna take a break, try to stop crying. I'm getting the paper all wet.