A Coffee Away

A Real Date

Robbie

My whole world shifted. Something stirred within me, something I’d kept hidden for so many years. Something deep, digging its way out.

I punched in the code, and the gate to my parents’ mansion opened.

My father was a well-known cardiothoracic surgeon.

My mom studied law but stayed at home after I was born.

Her whole life was devoted to us both. We lived in an exclusive part of Condado, a wall keeping our property in a bubble inside the lively town.

A conservative home right in the middle of one of the gayest friendly towns of Puerto Rico. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

I leaned against the white gate. The onslaught from my parents was unavoidable. I missed my own birthday dinner.

I lifted my hand to block the glare of the porch lights.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I walked ahead.

Give me strength.

“Robbie? Is that you?” Mom called from the front door.

The red stood out against the pristine white walls and the blue tiled roof.

She wore her favorite pj’s, black with tiny red wine glasses.

I put on a smile and went to her, then hugged her tight. She was small compared to me, and her hair smelled like almonds. The scent of wine hit me when she kissed my cheek. She’d probably been drinking with Dad.

She cupped my cheek. “I was worried sick. You missed dinner.” Her long, brown hair cascaded in waves down her right shoulder.

I brushed it and remembered the last time I’d seen her this worried.

Three years ago, the day I turned eighteen, I snuck out of the house and went to a gay bar.

I wanted to be free. To meet other men. To be myself.

But I just sat at the bar, watching them writhe on the dance floor.

A pang of envy rooted inside me at being unable to get in there and let go.

The guilt from what my church and parents had taught me deeply burned within me.

My body responded as the men grabbed each other’s asses, grinding together in the middle of the dance floor.

No shame. No guilt.

Their kisses were open and real.

I wanted that. I needed that.

My phone wouldn’t stop vibrating, and when I decided it was time to go home, Dad was waiting in the car out front.

I froze.

My father, Dr. Roberto Fernández, rolled down the window and fixed his gold-rimmed glasses. His lips tightened into a grimace. “Get in.” He unlocked the door.

“How did you…?” My chest squeezed to the point of pain. I couldn’t breathe. Fuck. He knows.

He huffed. “Find you? I tracked you.” His stern tone, one I’d never witnessed before, made me go still. “You got your fill of depravity. Now it’s time to go home.”

I entered the car. The silence was unbearable.

“Papi?” My voice was but a whisper.

He raised his hand, the car already in motion. “I don’t want to hear a word. Your mother is worried sick, and I don’t want you upsetting her with this. We’ll tell her you were out with some friends.”

We stopped at a red light.

He gave me a menacing look. “You will never step foot in there again. Got it?” He faced the road. “We will never speak of this. You slipped. You’re confused. Remember what we taught you. Temptation will come. Just find your way back.”

“But…” I wanted to scream. This is me, Papi. This is who I am.

“But nothing, Roberto.”

I swallowed dryly and looked out the window. Club lights made the city come alive. Music called people to dance and let go. I stared at a laughing gay couple. The two men unapologetically held each other’s hands.

On the other side, two women kissed against a wall.

My father tsked. “Never again.” He jerked the car into the residential areas of Condado.

In no time, we entered our garage.

He turned off his Jaguar, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. “Sin calls to us, but you’re not like that. Don’t let yourself fall prey to this.” He left the car, leaving me broken and confused.

We never spoke about it again.

Mom cradled my face in her delicate hands, pulling me from the memory of that night. “Are you all right, hijo?”

Jazz music reached me from inside. The beat from the double bass calmed my nerves. There was something about how it was in the background, barely audible but as important as the other instruments. Its rhythm called to my soul in the deepest sense.

“Vivi, is that Roberto?” Dad’s voice filtered outside before he stood by the door in a black V-neck shirt and gray sweatpants.

He crossed his arms. His sandy-blond hair, the same color as mine, was elegantly cropped, and his close shave left a shadow of stubble. He fixed his glasses, a tic he had whenever he was annoyed. “Where were you?”

Mom sighed and put her palm against his muscled chest. “Love, let him explain.”

Dad exhaled, snaking his arm around her waist. “Okay, mi amor.”

They watched me.

I didn’t share their views on life, but I still loved them. If only they could feel the same way.

I had to come clean. I had to!

“I was with a guy.”

Mom smiled. “Oh. You met a friend.”

“No.” My voice cracked. My heart hammered so hard it hurt. “We have a date tomorrow.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “I think I misheard you. You must have meant a girl.”

I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and steadied myself. “No, Dad. You heard me right.”

My heart slammed against my ribcage. The ability to speak left me for a moment, but I gathered all the courage I could and willed my body to calm down.

It was now or never. “I’m gay.”

They froze, eyes wide.

Dad’s face twisted. He grabbed my arm, his grip hard. “You’re joking.” Not a question. A warning.

“Hijo?” Mom covered her mouth and stepped back, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

Dad scowled. “You…” His voice cracked.

A weight crushed my chest.

I yanked my arm free, breathing rapidly, vision blurring. I didn’t wait for them to speak. I couldn’t. I sprinted up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door behind me.

My hands trembled, and I sank to the floor. I couldn’t breathe, and my stomach dropped.

I did it.

I clutched my arms to my chest and took a shaky breath.

I fucking told them.

Downstairs, the music cut off mid?beat. The house turned into a tomb.

Will they come?

Minutes passed. No footsteps. No knock. Nothing.

And I sat there, sobbing until my throat burned. Things would never be the same.

Someone pounded on the door.

The first rays of the sun shone through the window, painting my room into a calm canvas of mellow yellows and whites. The canvas Mom had set for me stood next to the glass windowpane, half a sunset painted on it. My four-poster bed lay unused.

I stretched. I was curled on the floor. I must have fallen asleep.

Another knock.

“Your mother made breakfast. We’ll be waiting for you at the dining table. Be ready for church.” His commanding voice sent shivers down my spine.

I held my breath until his footsteps receded. “Fuck!”

My stomach roiled, and nausea churned at what I was about to face.

I covered my face with both hands. What the fuck came over me? Why did I do it like that? Was it Esteban, or the fact that I was living a lie while my life passed before my eyes? Whatever it was, it was done.

I reined in my emotions. I had to be strong when I faced them. There was no escape from it.

I followed my daily routine of push-ups and pull-ups, then took a shower. I dressed in khaki dress pants and a cream knitted top. I brushed my hair, letting it fall to my shoulders, and put on my black spectacles. I wanted to look good for Esteban.

Last night’s encounter was surreal. I’d never had a man talk to me the way Esteban had. Such security in himself. Such a no-bullshit attitude. He was a man, and I wouldn’t let my insecurities rule me.

Never again.

I caught my reflection in the mirror. I was lean but fit. As for Esteban… Warmth spread throughout my body. Fuck, he was big and strong. I shook my head and fixed my pants. It was no time for fantasies.

I checked my phone. It was 10:00 a.m. I needed to hurry if I wanted to get to Miramar in time.

My parents’ voices were hushed as I walked down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the dining room. They looked me up and down.

“It’s about time. Sit. We’ll be late,” Dad said.

I sat next to Mom. Our table was for six in case we had visitors, especially my parents’ friends.

I grabbed my turkey sandwich and munched on it.

“Son.” Mom’s voice was mellow. “Remember to pull your hair up for church.”

Fuck. I was through with this shit. I hated the hypocrisy. How could you say you loved God and refuse to accept your own son? I closed my eyes and sipped my coffee. “I’m not going.”

Mom gasped.

Dad slammed his mug down so hard the table shook. “What do you mean you’re not going? We have everything set. Our family and friends are waiting.”

I rubbed my temple. “You know what, Dad? I don’t care. This is all for you, and I’m fucking done with it.” I straightened and raised an eyebrow, looking into his green eyes. “I mean exactly what I said.” I shrugged. “I have a date, so I’m not going.”

There it was. The punch.

My heart thundered beneath my strong countenance.

My courage was just a front. Inside, I was a mess.

God help me.

Dad tilted his head. “A date? She can come with us if she wants. After brunch, you can take her out on your own.”

I stilled, my jaw clenched as I studied him.

Didn’t they hear me yesterday?

Did my father see it as another slipup? A mistake? A sin I would redeem by going to church?

But God knew me for who I was. He accepted me. He loved me. Not like my parents.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. Slowly. Letting the clean air calm my senses.

I gripped my coquí mug and faced my father. “What did you just say?”

“That she can come with us. Have your date later.” Dad continued eating his oatmeal.

I dropped my sandwich and stood, the chair screeching behind me. “What about last night?”

Dad rubbed his brow. “What about it?”

I looked at Mom. She watched Dad as if I was not there.

A knife stabbed my heart. “Mom?”

She didn’t look at me.

A thousand stones fell on my stomach. My own mother was taking Dad’s side. I mean, I didn’t expect her to accept it immediately. Her beliefs were strong, and she’d need time. But her love was unconditional. She’d always defend me.

When I was a teenager, even though she didn’t ask, she’d come to me if I was sad and tell me I could always talk to her.

When I refused to study medicine like Dad wanted me to, she took my side and convinced him I should study what made me happy.

I was almost sure she knew about my true feelings, but she never said anything to hurt me.

I expected her to at least give me a chance. To listen.

But this…

They both heard me last night, but they decided to ignore it.

Dad ate nonchalantly, finishing his meal as if nothing had happened.

No.

If he thought I’d fall for his tactics and back down, he was wrong.

I breathed in and out, letting the oxygen flow through me, then put my palms on the table. “Yesterday it took everything in me to tell you. To say out loud what I’ve been keeping inside for years.” I fisted my hands and darted my eyes between them.

Mom still wouldn’t look at me.

“I’m gay, Mom. Dad’s known for years. He kept it from you and told me it was just a phase.”

Mom shifted in her seat and eyed Dad, who stared at his empty plate.

“I’m gay. I like men. It’s who I am, and I’m done feeling ashamed. I’m done feeling guilty. It’s okay to be gay. I’m not a sinner, and God loves me for who I am.”

Dad dropped his spoon. “Get out.”

My breath hitched.

I stepped back. “But… Mom?”

She looked down as Dad stood, his glare set on me. He gritted his teeth, and his muscles bunched beneath his shirt. “Get out of my house!”

Mom didn’t say a thing as a tear rolled down my cheek. Then another.

Dad’s gaze was resolute.

My soul shattered. My heart pumped wildly as I ran upstairs. I cried as I filled my suitcase. I took my wallet, my phone, and my charger. I wanted to call Esteban. But I didn’t have his number, just the card.

I dialed.

“A Coffee Away. How can I help you?”

His deep voice was just what I needed to hear.

“Hello?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Esteban?”

There was music in the background. Chatter from customers.

“Robbie? Is that you?”

I couldn’t hold back a sob. It was pure agony.

“What happened? Are you all right? Do you need me to get you?” His voice turned soft.

“I told my parents.” I sobbed, the air thick around me. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll be right back.” His voice was almost muted.

A moment passed, then the people and music quieted.

“Robbie. Breathe for me. What do you mean? What did you tell them?”

“That I’m gay.” I wiped my eyes with my arm. “They threw me out. I…I have nowhere to go.”

Silence.

“Gaby, can you take over my shift? Something came up. I have to go somewhere.”

“Sure,” a sweet voice answered in the background.

An engine roared on the other end.

“I’m coming to get you.” Esteban’s voice was desperate. Raw.

“But…” I paused.

What the hell was I thinking? I just met the guy.

“But nothing. I’m picking you up, and that’s it. I’ll be there in ten.”

There was a silence.

“Pack your stuff. Get out of there. Meet me at the beach. Same spot as last night.”

I nodded, then figured he needed an answer. “Okay.”

My heart was about to pop out of my chest. I was about to leave my parents and the place that had been my home for twenty-one years. Why? Why couldn’t they love me for who I was?

“Robbie?”

I thought he’d hung up.

“Robbie, are you there?”

“I’m here.” I closed the suitcase, then crammed my books and laptop into my backpack.

“Everything will be fine. Wait for me. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Roberto. I need your words.”

Something stirred inside me. His worry. His tone. His words.

“Yes, Esteban. I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

The line went dead, and my world fell silent, so much so that it was deafening. My throat burned as I closed the backpack, then ran downstairs.

Mom was there. “Robbie, please. Let’s talk this through. You’re just…confused.”

“I expected this from Dad. But you?” I shook my head.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, her face was pure agony. Glazed eyes. Smothered sobs.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Sorry for not being the son you wanted me to be.” I choked back my tears. “Adiós, Mami. I love you.”

With one last look at what was no longer my home, I turned to the door and left.