Chapter 16
RAFE
I can tell that Brent needs to hide away for a minute.
He’s feeling very overwhelmed. When I pull him to me once everyone begins getting up to stretch their legs and use the bathroom, he immediately buries his face in my chest to hide.
I keep him close, running my fingers through his hair and giving him all the time he needs.
Mom catches my eye, and she’s looking very concerned. I shake my head, giving her a soft smile, hoping she understands. He’s okay. He’s overwhelmed in a good way. At least, I think it’s a good way. On her way by, Mom covers him with a blanket and gently touches his shoulder before leaving the room.
Brent doesn’t move. I feel the way he’s breathing, inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly.
Having known Brent for quite some time, I would never have guessed about his home life. In hindsight, it’s easy to recognize that he’s always exited the conversation when it comes to family. Coming from a family like mine, it’s hard to fathom that there are some who are the complete opposite.
Like physics. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Like fairy tales, there’s always good and evil. The world is about balance, so I know that my family is the epitome of good, wholesome, and loving.
There are some hiccups, of course. As is the case everywhere. But overall, I stick to what I claim.
I suppose in my mind I never imagined that I’d meet someone with a family the opposite of mine.
Especially not someone I’m close to. It’s like people who live in the belief that ‘those things happen to other people; that doesn’t affect me, so I don’t need to care or get involved; it’s not my problem, so I don’t have to care’.
I was one of those people when it came to family life. No one I knew had a bad family. No one that I knew suffered at home. Those are the kinds of things that happen to people far away. People I don’t know.
Of course, Brent is overwhelmed. I don’t know what his family life consisted of before they kicked him out, but I can’t imagine that his home was like this, and then suddenly turned their back on him.
That alone is proof enough that his family couldn’t be anything like mine.
Fuck’s sake, members of my family tricked their son into marrying a man!
You can’t get more opposite to Brent’s family than that.
After a few minutes, Brent sits up and wipes his face. He doesn’t look blotchy or anything. He looks… tired.
“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t expecting… this.”
“I know.” I rest my hand on his thigh again, and his eyes drop to it. Brent sighs. His eyes slowly come up to meet mine. “What do you need?”
“Nothing.” His voice sounds a bit breathless. “Thank you for this. For everything. I can’t tell you… I don’t know how to tell you how much it means to me.”
I pull him close so I can kiss him. Maybe a little more thoroughly than appropriate for this setting, but I take my time to claim his mouth thoroughly until his shiver is for a reason other than being overwhelmed with emotion.
I like this kind of breathlessness on him.
“I’m sure the moment we walked in the door, Mom was sending out smoke signals that I had a boyfriend joining us for Christmas.
My family’s form of love is spoiling the fuck out of everyone new.
Making sure that you’re included in every single teeny tiny tradition that we have.
The goal is that you never feel like you’re watching from the outside looking in, but are deeply enshrined in everything that we do. ”
He nods. “I definitely feel that, but I was expecting the former. Which is fine. I’d still have been happy to be here, Rafe.”
“Yep, I know. But that was never going to happen. My family doesn’t do anything by halves.
You fight the contract system, you get stuck with a husband instead of a wife,” I note just as Enfield and Xavi walk by.
My comment is met with snickers and laughter.
Enfield tosses a pillow across the room at us.
Brent grins, looking at my cousin. I can’t get over how different he appears.
A single kiss changed everything about Brent for me.
I don’t know how to look at him any other way than with awe.
He’s… stunning. With him so close, I can see the brown ring around his pupils before they bleed into the green of his irises. They’re so beautiful.
My family begins piling back in. The quiet voices are overridden by the excited energy of the kids as they retake their spots in their pools. My sister comes around with glasses of eggnog to sip on while we wait for everyone.
Round two begins, this time with my grandparents handing out presents.
Brent and I end up with half a dozen more before we break for lunch.
This time, we leave our chair and head for the kitchen, making a pit stop to piss first. It’s been a long morning filled with delicious things to drink and no bathroom breaks.
My mother and grandmother are already in the kitchen, pulling vegetables from the fridge and pantry.
“Salads,” I tell Brent, and together we wash our hands at the sink, even though we just washed our hands in the bathroom.
“Breakfast was filled with sugar, and we’ll continue the sugary drinks throughout the day.
Dinner is also all kinds of indulgences, so we break up the unhealthy with something healthy. ”
“Though we do offer unhealthy salad dressings,” Grandma says as she has more than a dozen bottles of dressings on the tray ready to go.
I pull out two cutting boards and choose a couple of kitchen knives from the magnetic strip to set us up at the chopping station. I hand all the tomatoes to Brent, taking the carrots for myself. My mom and grandmother get to chopping the different greens and putting them into bowls.
“Your family isn’t missing you today, Brent?” Mom asks.
My knife stops at the same moment Brent’s does. A beat passes before Brent answers, “No.”
Mom looks at me as Brent’s knife moves again. I press my lips together, trying to convey that she shouldn’t ask anymore. My mother receives the message but doesn’t listen to the suggestion.
“Are there any family traditions you’d like to do today?”
Brent’s knife doesn’t stop this time as he shakes his head. “No, thank you.”
“Have you already spoken to your parents?”
“Mom,” I say, getting irritated with her ignoring his disinterest in this subject.
“I haven’t spoken to my parents in six years. They don’t approve of my sexuality,” Brent says. I can hear the practiced response in his even tone.
My mother stares at him, and I see his cheeks flush. I’m about ready to say something—anything—to chastise my mother when she comes around the counter and places her hand over Brent’s on his knife, stopping his chops.
She pulls the knife from his hand and sets it down. He’s stiff. Afraid. Shocked when my mother pulls him into a tight hug. I see the way his body shudders as he tries to fight a new onslaught of emotion.
As I watch my mom hug him fiercely like only a mother can, I realize something that I’d only been skimming the surface of.
Brent has shut up any emotion he has toward his family for a very long time.
Part of the reason he’s so overwhelmed is likely that he’s now being forced to face those emotions, even if not directly.
“You’re part of our family now, Brent,” Mom says. She gives me a disapproving look for not telling her. I shrug. It wasn’t my information to tell. “Even if my son wasn’t smitten with you, you’d always have a home here. But since he is…” She smirks, and I roll my eyes.
My heart races at her words. Am I smitten with him?
That seems… preposterous. I don’t get smitten.
Yes, Brent is one of the most important people in my life, but that’s because he’s my best friend.
That goes with the territory. Even if I hadn’t convinced him to be my fake boyfriend, he’d still be right up there in importance.
I wonder if I’d just brought him home as my best friend if my mother would still think I’m smitten with him. Is there something I’m doing that gives that impression? Is it in the way I’m looking at him?
I blame the mistletoe. Of course, I’m looking at him in a way I haven’t before.
I’ve kissed him. I’ve now experienced kissing Brent Mitchell, and it seriously turned my life inside out.
Not in a bad way. Actually, I’m not sure in what way yet.
That’s still up for debate. I’ve crossed a very dark line with someone incredibly important to me, and we can’t go back.
I don’t know what our future looks like now.
Mom kisses Brent’s cheek. “I’m sorry I pushed. I wasn’t expecting that answer.”
Brent gives her a smile. The kind that isn’t entirely genuine and not very big. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” Grandma says. “You deserve the apology.”
Brent inclines his head. “Thanks.”
Mom rests her hand on my arm on her way by, and we continue preparing lunch in silence.
I think that put a damper on the holiday spirit.
Maybe Brent feels responsible for it because he adds, “I have an old aunt that I’ll call later tonight.
She took me in after my parents kicked me out.
And I have an uncle… or ex-uncle, technically, that I talk to a couple times a year. I’m sure I’ll talk to him today.”
“I’m inclined to say family is important, but I feel like that now has a caveat,” Mom says. “As much as I’m sure it hurts, I’m glad you remained true to who you are. There’s a better family for you than the one you were born into, who will treat you with love and respect.”
“This family,” I say, and gently nudge my shoulder into his.
Brent’s smile is genuine this time, though still small.
His eyes flicker to mine. “I used to be upset about it, but I’m not anymore, though I think that’s coming across a little convoluted since I’ve been a little…
overwhelmed with your hospitality and inclusion.
I guess… I’d written off the importance of family.
When Rafe and I became friends and we were surrounded by a lot of guys who proved that not everyone will judge me because I’m gay, I thought that I didn’t need family, I just needed really good friends. ”
“We’re still family,” I say. “Our friends and I are just a different kind of family.”
“A chosen family,” Grandma says, nodding.
Brent nods too. “Since I got here, today especially, I’ve been struggling with memories of my family. And now, seeing your family, and the things I know from experience, the things I’m watching around me and taking part in are in direct conflict. The bad versus the good. It’s overwhelming.”
“Found family,” Grandma says, smiling.
Brent looks up and returns her smile. “The idea of family has evolved a lot in my life from the time I was young, when I first told my parents I liked boys at twelve and they told me I was too young to make that decision.” I wince at his words and try to hide my scowl.
“I watched my family change right before my eyes. How they treated me. How they talked to me. How they had the entire congregation pray for my confusion and sin. How they had me in Christian counseling.”
I set my knife down as Brent unloads. Fucking hell. The way my stomach churns threatens to upturn its contents.
“I reinforced it when I was fourteen, after two years of that crap, that I liked guys, and no matter what counseling they put me in, no matter what the Pastor said or how God viewed my sexuality, or how many people they had praying for me, it wasn’t changing.
But I was still too young to make that decision, and it got a little colder in the house.
At seventeen, when I came out for the third time, I was apparently old enough to decide to live in sin, and if that was my final choice, then I wasn’t their son, and I needed to leave. So I left.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” Mom says.
Brent nods. “I didn’t mean to lay all that out.
I’m sorry. I was only trying to illustrate that I haven’t viewed the idea of family as a positive thing in a long time.
While I know that not everyone has the same family I had, my story isn’t singular.
I’ve met a lot of queer kids who have similar stories.
I’ve met a lot that have only slightly different stories where they’re grudgingly accepted under the moniker, ‘love the sinner but hate the sin.’”
“Bullshit,” Grandma mutters.
I smirk.
Brent grins. “Rafe has always talked about you guys as if you’re the greatest thing in the world, but I don’t know. I guess I kind of thought that he was exaggerating.” He looks at me. “I was wrong. I don’t think you sing their praises enough.”
Because I can’t seem to help myself, I lean in and kiss him again.
“I have always felt like I rub in how great my family is,” I admit.
“Like you, I’ve heard enough to know that not everyone has the kind of family I have.
I’ve always known how fortunate I am. Not just monetarily, but in the family I was born into.
The world would be a much better place if all families were actually built around love like mine is. ”
He nods. I’m surprised when he kisses me again, his lips lingering on mine.
“Thank you for sharing them with me,” he whispers.
“Being here has healed something inside me that I never thought would heal. I’m not going to go all out and say that it’s restored my faith in humanity because, as great as your family is, I know for certain that there are lots of nasty families still populating the world, but it has reminded me that there are good families out there.
Not out there, far away for other people to see and experience, but right here. Close by. For real.”
“I’m happy to share them with you, and I will always,” I promise, hoping he hears that my promise extends far after the holiday. No matter what happens between us, that promise endures. No matter where life takes us, he will always have a place in my family.
But maybe my mom is right. I might be a little smitten with this man because there’s a whisper of a voice in my head that’s saying, ‘We’ll have this family together.’