Every Hidden Truth (Far From Ruined #2)

17. Girls, Boys, or… Trees

17

Girls, Boys, or… Trees

Peering through the curtains, I watched as Ben backed out of my driveway and drove away. Unable to procrastinate any longer, I heaved a deep breath and prepared for an inevitably uncomfortable conversation with my dad.

Straightening my shirt, I buttoned it closed and attempted to tame my hair. With my hands in my pockets, I approached the doorway to the kitchen, steeling myself. Dad wasn’t a shouter, but he’d also never caught me messing around with a boy in his living room before.

My orientation wasn’t something we talked about. He’d never acted like it was a bad thing, but the few moments it had come up, he’d changed the subject as quickly as possible. I knew he loved me, but I couldn’t help wondering if he loved me despite my sexuality, not including it.

As I shuffled into the kitchen, I watched Dad as he washed the dirty dishes from yesterday. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or not, so I propped my hip on the counter and chewed the inside of my cheek, searching for something to say.

He tensed when I eventually broke the silence. “You don’t need to wash those. I was gonna do it later.”

Pausing in his scrubbing, he shrugged. “Cleaning can be therapeutic.”

I winced, dread settling heavily in my gut at his words. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he spoke again before I could.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s still kind of new,” I said like it explained anything at all.

“How long have you two been dating?” He rinsed a pan and set it in the drying rack beside the sink.

“Almost a month.”

Dad nodded as he dried his hands, and I crossed my arms over my chest as he faced me. I didn’t know what I expected—anger, disappointment, disgust maybe, but I found none of it in his face. He seemed curious more than anything.

“I don’t recognize him. Is he in theater with you?”

I shook my head and stared down at my socked feet. “No, he’s a diver.”

His tone filled with genuine surprise. “You’re dating a jock?”

“He isn’t a jock, Dad. He’s actually kind of a nerd. He studies computer codes for fun and is, like, crazy smart and shit.”

He nodded, his expression indecipherable. “Well, he seems nice.”

“He is nice, too nice if you ask me. He’s way nicer than I am; I don’t even know why he likes me.” I bit my tongue to stop my rambling.

An odd smile played at the corners of Dad’s mouth. “You must like him a lot to speak so highly of him.”

“He’s alright.” I shrugged noncommittally, and his knowing smile widened.

“Sure.” He crossed his arms over his thick chest, the fabric of his dress shirt stretching over his belly. “You, uh, look fancy. Date night?”

For some reason, admitting to the dance was almost as embarrassing as Dad catching us doing the dirty. “Um, we went to the winter dance. At school.”

The words jumbled together, and Dad leaned forward to catch them. “A school dance? Wow, you must really like this boy.”

“It was just a dance,” I said defensively.

“Sure,” he repeated.

Another awkward silence filled the space between us, and I fingered the rainbow suspenders dangling from the waistband of my jeans. Neither Dad nor I had ever been good at this, the whole talking thing. My stomach twisted tighter with every uncomfortable second that passed.

“Uh, listen, Silas—”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I interrupted in a rush. “I wasn’t expecting you home tonight. We would never have—I mean, on the couch… Shit, I didn’t mean—”

“Silas.” His somber stare weighed on my shoulders, and I curled in on myself, guilty even if I didn’t know exactly what I was guilty of. “Son, I’ve never needed to worry about you being home on your own; I know I can trust you.”

My throat felt tight. Disappointing him was abundantly worse than pissing him off. I would rather he yelled at me than explain his misplaced trust.

“You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders and been mature for your age. I trust you to make decisions that are right for you.” He cleared his throat as the skin beneath his five o’clock shadow darkened. “Of course, I don’t enjoy walking in on my sons, but, uh, as long as you’re being smart and safe, using protection—”

As the direction of his statement became clear, I physically recoiled, fresh humiliation smothering me. “Oh my God, Dad! We’re not sleeping together.”

He cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at me. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m aware of what I interrupted.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I accepted the horrifying circumstances with resignation. “Dad, we aren’t sleeping together like that . And if we were, you’re off the hook anyway, because we totally had the sex talk already, and I’ve been through sex ed.”

“I’m not going to be one of those parents who sticks their head in the sand and believes their children aren’t sexually active.” I gagged at his choice of words, but he ignored me. “And I wasn’t walking in on you and your boyfriend when we first had the talk. You’re minutes away from being an adult, and you need to be prepared.”

“Please, stop.”

He ignored my pleas. “Trust me, this is just as awkward for me—”

“I really don’t think it is, though.”

“ Besides ,” he continued valiantly as I hid my face in my hands and prayed for death. “When you’re young and your emotions get involved, it’s difficult to keep a level head. But it’s important for you and your partner to always use a condom.”

“This is the worst moment of my life,” I moaned, praying for the apocalypse to hit. I waited hopefully for fire and brimstone to rain down from heaven. Nothing but soft snow fluttered past the window.

“Dad, for the love of God, please stop,” I interrupted his blushed stammering. “Listen, I’ve never had unprotected sex, and I don’t plan to, okay? Ben and I aren’t sleeping together, and if we ever do, I’m wrapping it up. Or he’s wrapping it up—we’re both wrapping it up!”

“Oh, sweet Lord.” Dad covered his face with his hand, and a pathetic squeaking sound escaped my throat.

My eyes bored holes into the kitchen floor as I gritted my teeth. “So, like, we’re all good. There’s no need to ever speak of this again. So, for the sake of my sanity, can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

“Well, I suppose.” Neither of us raised our mortified stares from the floor. “Good, uh, good talk, son.”

“No! Not good talk. Terrible talk. Worst talk in the history of all talks ever!” My voice cracked like a prepubescent tween, and Dad met my horrified gaze, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

The embarrassment was too much, and a hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat and burst through my lips. Once it started, I couldn’t stop it. After a split second of astonishment, Dad joined me. He bent at the waist, hands on his knees, as I used the counter as a crutch, roaring with laughter.

As the uncomfortable atmosphere dissipated, we wiped humored tears from our eyes and straightened. “Oh, shit, worst birthday ever.” I snickered as the edges of Dad’s eyes crinkled.

“Don’t be dramatic. You think I never caught Will with one of his girls?” He rubbed his neck with a chuckle.

I covered my ears. “La, la, la, I don’t wanna know!”

“Like you never tried to cover for him.”

I shrugged sheepishly. “That’s what brothers do, right?”

Sighing, Dad scrubbed a hand through his thinning hair. “You always did team up against me.”

“We’re your children. It’s in the job description.” I grinned as the last of my blush faded, and he laughed, clapping my shoulder hard enough to rattle my bones.

“That it is, that it is.” With a glance at the ever-present watch on his wrist, a gift from my grandfather when my dad had turned eighteen, he squeezed my shoulder. “Well, would you look at that. Looks like congratulations is in order. Happy birthday, Silas.”

Sure enough, it was midnight, and I scuffed the linoleum as my smile stretched until my cheeks ached. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I have something for you, but I forgot it in the car. Hold on.” He lumbered from the room, and the front door opened and shut a minute later.

Hopping onto the counter, I checked my phone and warmth overflowed my veins and flooded my extremities as Ben’s name flashed on the screen.

Ben: Made it home.

One minute ago, he’d sent another.

Ben: It’s midnight! Happy Birthday, Si.

Before I could respond, my dad re-entered the house, and I tucked my phone away as he walked into the kitchen with a large cardboard box in his hands. I recognized the logo immediately.

“Mrs. Kolkowski picked it up for me.”

I clapped my hands and accepted the box, setting it on the counter next to me and lifting the lid. A blue moon ice cream cake stared up at me, orange writing scrawled across it, reading, Happy Birthday, Silas.

“Awesome. Thanks, Dad.” I accepted the fork he’d preemptively retrieved for me. “Want some?”

Brandishing his own fork, he nodded. “Well, I didn’t think you’d eat all of it.”

“Oh, I could.” I dug into the edge, moaning in delight at the delicious flavor mixing with the cookie crust.

After five minutes of stuffing our faces quietly, Dad broke the stillness. “You should invite Ben over tomorrow for your birthday. We can go out for dinner or eat here, whatever you want.”

I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth, eyes narrowing warily. “It can just be us two.”

“It’s your birthday, so it’s up to you.” He shrugged, scrutinizing his fork as I licked at my bite of ice cream. “But I’d like to get to know him.”

Unable to meet his gaze, I feigned interest in the cake. “Really?”

Coughing throatily, he took another bite. “Of course. I mean, he’s important to you, isn’t he?”

When my eyes jumped to his, his head tilted in question, and my word vomit spewed from my lips. “But he’s a boy.”

Dad stiffened momentarily, studying his fork as he mulled over his bite. He swallowed, then said, “I know. I thought that was kind of a requirement for you.”

“Well, yeah.” I dropped my eyes timidly, my neck heating for the millionth time tonight. “I just thought—I mean, you never said, but—I guess, I just assumed…”

What was I trying to say? Even I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter because his warm calloused hand on my wrist stopped my stutters.

“Silas, you’re my son, and who you love doesn’t change that.” His voice thickened with emotion, and my eyes stung as I tentatively reinstated eye contact. Sadness aged his face, deepening the wrinkles on his brow and around his eyes. “I’m sorry I never told you that. I thought you knew.”

“Of course I know that, Dad.”

His fingers tightened on my wrist as he forced his eyes not to waver from mine. “I love you, Silas, regardless of whether you like girls, boys, or… trees.”

Snorting, I rolled my eyes and fought the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “What a relief. There’s a nice dogwood down the street I’ve been wanting you to meet.”

With a grunt, he cuffed the side of my head before I could dodge. “You always were a smartass.”

“Will taught me well.”

“Sure, sure. Lord knows you didn’t get it from me.” He opened his briefcase and sifted through the contents. Pulling out a rectangle wrapped in newspaper, he offered it to me. “I, uh, have this for you too.”

“Ooh, presents!” I cheered, clapping my hands at the gift and the escape from our emotional exchange. “Gimme, gimme!”

Inspecting the wrapped gift, I rolled it over in my hands before shaking it lightly, earning me an impatient grunt from my dad. I unwrapped the newspaper to reveal a plain black box. A jewelry box?

Inside, nestled in black velvet cushioning, was a watch. It had a plain black leather band and a white face with black lines marking the hours instead of numbers. The sapphire glass reflected my awed expression, and the silver-plated back was engraved with my name. It was simple, yet it was utter perfection; I loved it.

Dad gave Will a watch for his eighteenth birthday, a tradition for the men in the Brigs family, and now I had mine. It was a small, humble gesture, and my eyes burned. Not that I hadn’t expected Dad to get me one, but it somehow managed to surprise me. The small, insecure boy I pretended not to be wanted to cry in delight.

“Will said I should get you one with all the bells and whistles, but I thought you’d like this better.” Dad shifted his weight, unsure. “But if you don’t like it, we can trade it for something else.”

“I love it, Dad.” I set the box on the counter, ensuring it was secure, before hopping down and throwing my arms around his waist. “It’s perfect.”

At first, he didn’t respond to the unexpected embrace, but I didn’t let him go. I wanted him to hold me like he used to when I was a kid, and I sighed in contentment when he finally did.

He brought his arms around my shoulders and placed a fleeting kiss to the top of my head. “Happy Birthday, Silas.”

As I fought the instinct to bawl like a baby, I hid my face in his chest and inhaled his Old Spice deodorant. “Thanks, Dad. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

We hugged for another minute before I pulled away, rubbing at my eyes with a manly grunt. “Something in my eye.”

Dad nodded, staring at the melting ice cream cake as he blinked rapidly. “Yes, well…” He clapped my shoulder, harrumphing. “Let me help you with this.” Taking the watch gently from its holder, he strapped it to my wrist and secured it snugly.

“I really like it, Dad. Thanks.” I smiled shyly, spinning my wrist as the light overhead gleamed off the shiny face.

“It suits you.”

I admired the watch as Dad packed up the remaining cake and finagled it into the freezer.

“Well, I’m probably gonna head to bed,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay, sleep well.”

“Thanks.” I paused in the doorway and gathered my courage for one last mushy display. “Hey, Dad?” He glanced over his shoulder, and I forced my fidgeting fingers away from my piercing. “I, uh, I love you.”

His cheeks flushed red under his stubble, but he returned the sentiment readily. “I love you too, Silas.”

Nodding, I wiggled my fingers in a wave. “Okay, erm, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

By the time I’d showered and crawled into bed, I had three unread text messages. The first was from Will, wishing me a happy birthday, and I replied with a thanks and a picture of my watch. The second was from Ben.

Ben: I’m heading to bed. Hope you survived. Talk to you tomorrow.

Silas: I’m alive, thanks for your concern. P.S. Dad wants you to come over for my birthday, so just stop in whenever, I guess.

I waited for a response, but he must have been asleep already.

Opening the third and final text, my cloud-nine high sobered to irritation as Unknown sat in my inbox. Seriously? When was the phone company going to stop these random alerts?

Unknown: Happy Birthday.

Hmm, that was weird. Unknown had never actually spoken to me before. I’d assumed it was a strange phone test system gone wonky, but now…

Silas: Who is this?

Again, I waited for a reply that never came.

Annoyed, I plugged in my phone and snuggled into my blankets. Maybe one of my friends had a new number and forgot to tell me. Or it was a prank. It wouldn’t be the first time my phone number was found and distributed through the school grapevine. Since freshman year, I’d changed my number twice to escape the annoying, sometimes insulting messages.

Whatever. I was over it. Whoever it was could suck a tailpipe.

With that pleasant thought, I buried myself in my bedding and grinned when the stubborn moonlight fighting through my closed blinds glinted off my watch. I caressed the smooth glass, giddy joy bubbling in my stomach as I drifted off to sleep.