T.M. Shannon

It’s been 3 months since I posted my first queer short, and in that time, I received one comment (preserved below, thanks again Bear Scribe), and set myself up to put out the next queer short.

I got on my phone and tapped away, had what I thought was a good story, then loaded it into Word and… 1350 words, not long enough. ADHD had its way next, and I only got it done Jan 5th, putting my blog post back a day.

Here’s the end result, 2883 words or 17 minutes read-time, and something that I’m glad to say made me cry at the end.

Enjoy!

To Their Senses

© T. M. Shannon 2026
All rights reserved.

1

Todd parked down the road from his childhood home, walked the rest of the way, and came across his dad leaning on a new red Mustang with his arms crossed.

He growled, ten years gone, the economy in a shambles, but the man still clockwork upgrading every five years. “Nice to have money, huh?” But his mom’s words in his ear, he continued to and up the driveway, each step and heartbeat heavier, his throat dry as he met the man.

The father’s face was neutral as he nodded. “Todd.”

Todd ahemmed. “John.”

John pursed his lips tight, eyes narrow, the nasal breath sharp.

Todd stared at John. “You said I’m not your son.”

“Hmm.”

Todd tisked and turned to the house, his closet-cum-prison upstairs left. He shuddered, fought his way back to his safe space, saw his mom at the lounge room window with her hand on the glass, eyes hopeful, and returned to John. “Mom said you’re ready to talk.”

John took a breath. “I am.”

“And not blast me with a, ‘Traditional values,’ tirade?”

John glanced down. “No.”

“Alright, let’s talk.”

“Not here.” John unlocked the Mustang. “C’mon, we’re driving.”

Todd swallowed, watched John get into the Mustang, and walked to the passenger side. Door open, he sank into the leather seat, pulled the door too hard, heard John’s growl, and belted up.

2

Clutch pedal in, start button pushed, the V8 roared to life then settled at a burble, Todd’s neck atingle as the air conditioning kicked in, a small smile on his lips and NASCAR road tracks in mind.

John got the stick into reverse, checked the rear-view camera, then stuck his hand behind Todd’s headrest to back out left onto the street, wincing with each clutch press.

Car on the street and in first, John urged it on, the V8 sedate at low speed in third.

John glanced right. “How, uh, have you been?”

Todd rolled his eyes. “In a lot of places.”

John rev-matched gears down for a stop sign. “Your mom says you’ve got mental problems.”

Todd looked out the window. “Bet you like calling them problems.”

John started off. “Hmm?”

“I said I’ve got a few of them.”

John withdrew from the terse tone, turned at left the next stop sign. “What, uh, are they?”

Todd kept mum, closed pleased eyes at the surge up to forty-five, and sighed. “Bipolar Type One, ADHD, underlying schizophrenia.”

John nodded. “Bipolar’s the depressed and happy one, yeah?”

“Manic. It starts exuberant and euphoric, goes to hundred mile-an-hour thoughts, the you get delusional and just about psychotic.”

“Oh.” John gulped. “The psychotic’s not violent, is it?”

Todd groaned, rolled his eyes. “It can be for some, mostly we’re dangers to ourselves.”

“Your mum said you’ve resisted.”

Todd glared at John. “Would you like to get shut down, ganged up on, and cuffed when you’re on the top of the world?”

John slowed for a red light, took a while to speak. “I wouldn’t.”

Todd looked back out the window. “They were only emergency holds, I don’t have a record.”

John ahemmed. “You’ve had three holds.”

Todd clenched his fist. “Because the fucking insurance kept kicking me off my meds when I hadn’t had an episode for six months.”

John ahemmed. “Could you not curse at me?”

“And I’d like it if you hadn’t assaulted me, burned my books, ripped my door off, smashed my phone, and forced me to use a phone with a parental lock and a tracking app on it when I was sixteen.”

John stared ahead, his red face scrunched, fingers tight on the wheel.

“‘We can’t just have whatever we want or it’d all be anarchy,’ right?” Todd turned out the window again. “To hell with your Paulism.”

John indicated left, went fast into the turning lanes onto the Eastex feeder, and slammed the brakes.

Todd jolted and snapped to John. “Do you mind?”

John growled, turned it into a sigh, and breathed slow. “Sorry.”

“Where are we going anyway?”

John spoke when the lights changed. “Denny’s.”

Todd stared out the window and wished it was to the airport.

3

John parked, got out of the car, and walked to the entry, Todd slow to follow. He asked for a table for two, and they were seated and offered coffee.

Todd glanced around, harrowed by the harsh diatribes but comforted by the familial meals. Coffee poured, he added Half and Half, two sugars, stirred, and sipped—mediocre, but he never came to Denny’s for the coffee.

John peered at his menu. “Your mom sat by the phone every night waiting to hear from you.”

Todd hmmed.

John glanced at Todd, sighed. “I stood by the window, waiting to see you come back after you’d come to your senses.”

Todd growled. “You mean, your senses.”

John glared.

“Spare me the, ‘Honour your father and your mother,’ John. Respect’s a two-way street.”

John growled, fists tight on the table.

“What, you going to beat the fag up again?”

“Would you stop this?”

“Why, so you can—”

The waitress appeared. “Have you decided what you’d like today?”

John and Todd snapped to her, faces white while she smiled.

John spoke first. “Bourbon Bacon Burger with Wavy Fries.”

“A Bacon Avocado Cheeseburger, no pickles, with fries, thanks.”

The waitress wrote the order down. “Alright, I’ll get that to the kitchen right away.”

Nervous faces turned to each other, then John had his coffee, and Todd tapped his fingers on the table.

John put his a cup down and shook his head. “Can we start over?”

Todd took ages to nod.

John deliberated, Todd turned to the right, and went to say something—groaned, shook his head, and sighed. “How are things at home?”

Todd glanced back at John. “Back to the small talk.”

John stared at the table surface. “Your mom said to keep it there at first.”

Todd took John in, hands flat on the table, the downturned face humble, Saint Charbel but without the hood and one beard to rule them all, and ahemmed. “Not good.”

John took a while to meet Todd’s eyes. “How so?”

Todd winced. “I’m stressed and scared right now, there’s everything mental and psychological to worry about, and money’s tight as hell—I maxxed my card out for the flights and hire car.” He paused. “You?”

John pursed his lips. “It’s quiet, the phone barely rings, and when it does, it’s friends, salespeople, or the doctor’s office.”

Todd’s eyebrows rose. His sisters were always talking to mom, nothing too small to chat her ear off about, and he wondered if John and mom had become doormats for them as well.

John continued. “As for today? I’m nervous and sad as hell.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”

Todd numbed out and blinked, words tumbling through his head he before he managed at last. “I’ve flown across half the country to see mom for the first time in ten years, and you got me to sit down to a meal with you. Which of those is making you sad?”

John took a breath. “The ten years.”

The server arrived with their plates balanced on her right hand and arm. “Okay, guys, we have the Bourbon Bacon and Bacon Avocado with no pickles.”

John sighed as his plate came down. “Thank you so much.”

Todd smelled his burger and fries, eyes intent on his meal. “Thank you.”

“Would y’all like more coffee?”

Todd turned to her. “Me, please.”

“Got you covered.”

Coffee renewed, creamed, and sugared, he took a sip before eating, and somehow it tasted good.

4

They ate slow in silence, food and Todd’s coffee diminishing until the plates and cup remained.

Todd sat back warmed and ready to confront anything, but the sight of John finger-patting the table, left-turned face thoughtful, sang of the quiet times, the fear of those acidic lips eased.

John turned back to Todd. “You know, I tried to make sense of it after you left, looked everywhere I knew, and if it wasn’t denying Christ, intrinsic disorder, worldly perversion it was mental illness, brainwashing, or the woke mind virus.”

Todd stared. “But not that pesky, woke as anything Jesus guy saying, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’”

John sighed. “No.” He turned sad eyes to Todd. “Father Michael pointed that out.”

Todd’s eyes went wide. “Father Michael talked sense into you? He had plenty to say against the Community back in the day.”

John smiled wry. “It’s been a while since that. Pope Francis got to him with, ‘Who am I to judge?’”

“Francis didn’t exactly say good things about, ‘Transgenderism.’”

John nodded. “One of his pallbearers was transgender.”

Todd softened. “I’d heard that.”

John phewed. “I had to get out of what I was looking at to read up on Community, the psychiatry and psychology, the phobia, the stain of colonialism, patriarchy, the threat to cishet hegemony.” He shook his head. “It was complicated—”

“It’s easy John. Accept, love, and fight for us, or hate us to death.”

John withdrew, eyes closed and teeth gritted.

Todd glowered. “Does it hurt to hear?”

John nodded.

“It should, because it’s meant to make you think of minorities done wrong, and the gloating power of those, ‘Threatened,’ by DEI, queer teachers, queer marriage, and gender-affirming care.”

John blinked at the table. “It’s been confronting.” He looked up at last. “How’s Jack with all of it?”

Todd withdrew then straightened, his chin up. “Mom told you?”

John nodded again.

Todd sighed. “He’s going through hell, as you can imagine with entire political and societal apparatuses being turned against him.” He growled. “Then his Blue-state Governor had a love-in with Charlie Kirk and turned against trans athletes.”

John pursed his lips. “I read up on Kirk.”

“From the queer perspective?”

“Yes.”

Todd peered at John. “Let me guess, you used to not agree with everything he said?”

“Yes.”

“And you realise how accepting the other things he said platformed him to say what you didn’t agree with?”

John closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Todd nodded smug then thankful. “Then thank you.”

John opened eyes that watered, and Todd sank back. “I believed it all, once, sick perverts grooming kids into bodily mutilation.”

“But a free pass to the sick perverts actually grooming kids into sexual abuse?”

John growled soft. “You know that’s not the case.”

Todd glared—“No, wait, that’s not what we’re talking about.”

John phewed again. “This is about you and me.”

“Agreed.”

John nodded, caught the server’s attention, asked for the bill, and went with Todd to the front counter to pay.

5

They got in the Mustang, John got the motor roaring and burbling, reached to the back seat, and brought a baseball cap forward. “I got you this.”

Todd took the hat with careful hands, turned the brim his way, traced his fingers over the Houston Astros logo, and checked the Official Merchandise tag before he turned to John. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” John half-smiled, put the car in gear, and eased them off. “You still watching games?”

Todd glanced out the window as they rolled back to the Eastex feeder. “As much as I can, but not enough.” He ahemmed. “It’s hard to pick the good memories up, though.”

John stopped at the feeder, waited for traffic to clear, pulled out into the middle lane, and got them above fifty-five in short order.

Todd smiled with closed eyes. “Missed that.”

“You’re still a V8 guy?”

“Always.” Todd sighed. “It’s shit driving a old, small car with a pitiful motor, but it’s all I can afford to run.”

John pursed his lips and concentrated on the road.

They left the car dealerships behind, went under the Sorters-McClellan bridge, over Spring Creek, and John got in the right lane for the Townsen Boulevard exit.

Todd frowned. “Where are we going?”

“Main Event.”

Todd gaped.

“You loved the arcade, your X-Box, especially Need for Speed and your racing games.”

Todd’s face firmed. “Because I was always imagining I was getting away from you and hateful Christian love.” He took a moment. “Whenever I got away from the cops or came first, I had a moment of freedom I held onto with all my heart.”

John got them onto Spring Creek Crossing. “Then you made it happen.”

Todd nodded. “UCSD, the queer outreach programs, and the Community saved my life.”

John blinked. “Metaphorically?”

Todd scratched his left wrist. “And literally.”

John glanced at Todd. “You…”

“I had to get rushed to hospital third time they stopped my meds.” Todd turned to John as they turned into the Main Event parking lot. “The ideation got to me, but the psychs, the meds, the outreach lines, and Jack helped so much.”

John parked and turned the motor off. “I’m glad they did.”

Todd smiled. “Thanks.”

John opened his door. “Come on, let’s have some fun.” He got out.

Todd put his hat on and followed.

They teamed up on the arcade shooters, Todd on point. They versed each other on the fighting games, and Todd showed John the special moves. They played the racing games, Todd first every time. Then they played for tickets, and left with an Angry Birds plushie for Jack.

Todd got back in the car and beamed despite the internal heat, John’s door closed and the Mustang alive once more.

“How you feeling, kid?”

Todd turned the plushie in his hands. “Like the good times.”

John smiled. “I’m glad.” He nodded. “Your mom said it’d be good for me, and she’s right.”

“Yeah.”

Car back in gear, John drove to the northbound Eastex feeder.

6

John eased the Mustang onto his driveway and turned the engine off, Todd and plushie out of the car after him.

Todd closed the door, glanced at the lounge room window, mom there with a proud smile on her face. He gave a small wave and smiled back, and returned to John.

John nodded to the house. “Your mom made a key-lime pie, whipped the cream herself, if you want to come in.”

Todd winced. “I have to make my flight, sorry.”

John’s shoulders sank. “Okay.”

Todd frowned. “You really want me to come in.”

John met Todd’s eyes and nodded. “I think it’s been long enough.”

Todd ahemmed. “It’s not quite long enough from the trauma you caused me.”

John stared intent at Todd, then his lip quivered, his eyes watered, and he broke down leaning against his car’s nose.

Todd blinked, looked everywhere but John, refocused, and wrapped the man up in his arms.

John sobbed. “I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t know what I caused. I beat you, I took away your privacy, and I know by how sharp you’ve gotten that I made your life a living hell.”

Todd squeezed tight. “Keep telling me about it.”

John nodded. “I didn’t love you, Todd, and I never showed you enough. Everything was, ‘Honour your father and mother,’ never, ‘Do not provoke your children to anger.’”

“I wasn’t angry, but it fucking hurt.”

“I know.” John shook his miserable head. “I don’t deserve a chance with you, and you’d be right to sue me.”

Todd clutched John’s right shoulder, lifted John’s face with the left, and gazed at the man through his own tears. “I’m not here to wreck you.”

“But I wrecked you.”

“I don’t want your money, I want you to be my dad.”

John managed something of a smile in his mess. “And I really miss my son.”

Todd cried all the more, and hugged his dad again.

They held onto each other for ages as the tears fell, snuffled and gulped them away, and stepped from the embrace at last.

John ahemmed. “I already talked to our advisor. It’s better for your taxes that you get your inheritance over time, not in a lump sum.”

“Dad, no.”

“No, Todd. I shouldn’t have cut you off, but learn more about you and how you are. You’re getting your full inheritance, and that’s it.” John gulped again, chortled, and smiled. “And you’re gonna get a call from us every weekend, and you and Jack are coming home for the holidays.”

Todd laughed and wiped new tears from his eyes. “Dad, stop trying to turn me into a blubbering wreck.”

“If that’s the last wreck I turn you into, I’ll take it. But just tell me whenever the rest gets too much for you, and we’ll talk about it.”

Todd shook his head. “That’s what the therapy and meds are for, but thanks.”

John smiled, and patted his Mustang. “I’m gonna keep this around a lot longer than five years, too. Just… Get yourself a new car, but don’t go all out. Keep your running costs down, the economy is well, yeah.”

Todd nodded. “Great advice, dad.”

John phewed and looked around. “Well, you’ve got to make your flight, yeah?”

Todd bit his lip and looked at the house. “I think I can squeeze a slice of pie in.”

John stopped dead, blinked his wide eyes, grinned at last, and threw his arm around his son’s shoulders to bring the kid back home.

So How Did I Go?

Well, would you look at that, the Aussie code-shifted to American in a story set in Texas—yes, those are real roads I’ve driven on, places I’ve been, and I double-checked the Denny’s menu.

As for turning to something deeper and heavy-hitting, it was great to break away from Chosen Men’s cute romance—while still loveable—to reach a poignant, deserved ending.

Most of all, it comes a week and a half from making peace with my own dad, though that turned out far simpler than this.

So, if you liked this, drop your comment below and subscribe for the blog posts and scant Three Ways updates—see that link below. And don’t forget I’m on Bluesky, Facebook and Insta had to go bye-bye.

Take care all, and I’ll hopefully have my 2026 Q2 short story ready to go and not rushed through last minute,
T. M.