28. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TRAVIS
“Excuse me, could I please have some extra napkins?”
I fight not to roll my eyes as I stalk over to the counter to grab a stack for the woman who asked.
When I toss them on her table, a couple flutter to the floor, but I don’t pick them up.
People are being extra annoying today.
They’ve been extra annoying all week, actually.
Mina and Arnold, a retired couple, are sitting at a corner table and can’t make up their mind on what to order.
They’ve already been there for fifteen fucking minutes with the menus open in front of them.
When I glance over yet again to see if they’re ready, the old man points at his coffee mug in a silent request for a refill.
Jesus Christ.
Some coffee splashes over the edge of the mug when I pour it.
“Know what you want yet?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, no,” Mina says.
“We’re not quite ready.”
This time I do roll my eyes.
“You’ve been coming here for years. The menu hasn’t changed.”
She looks taken aback, but I turn and walk off.
I slam the coffee pot onto the burner a little harder than necessary, then survey the diner.
I hate everyone here.
Okay, maybe that’s not true.
Maybe I’m just really fucking sick of this life.
I could sell the diner and go back to Boston, get a job behind a computer so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.
Even as I think this, though, I know it’s not what I want.
I almost had what I wanted, but then I lost it.
That’s the truth of why I’m in such a shitty mood.
I’m being a miserable asshole to everyone because I fucking miss Brenden.
It hasn’t even been a week, and all I want to do is go crawling to him on my knees and beg him to forgive me.
But I can’t.
He deserves so much better than someone who refuses to claim him in public.
What makes things worse is that I don’t know if my lame attempt to save face in front of my dad even worked.
We haven’t really talked much since he’s been back—mostly because I’m avoiding him—but it feels like he didn’t believe me when I told him that me and Brenden were nothing.
Fuck.
I can’t believe I said that.
What is wrong with me?
I’m a grown ass man, and I acted like a scared teenager.
Yeah, Brenden definitely deserves better.
After a busy lunch rush where I snap at so many people that I almost start to feel bad, I’m behind the counter restocking, when the bell on the door chimes.
Looking up, I see May’s unmistakable purple hair, and an immense wave of guilt crashes over me.
I grip the counter, resisting the urge to bolt into the back.
Because I broke my promise to her.
I hurt her dad.
She has her backpack over her shoulders and a frighteningly determined look on her face as she marches over to me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out nervously.
“I know how badly I messed up, and I understand if the two of you never want to see me again. I’ll leave Brenden alone. I’ll—”
“How dare you,” she cuts me off sharply.
“You think I want you to leave him alone ?”
Now I’m confused.
“Well, don’t you?”
She gives me a look like I’m being dense.
“I want my dad to be happy, you dumbass.”
I’m taken aback, because I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear.
Certainly never at me.
“I want him to be happy too. That’s why I’ll stay away. He probably hates me.”
“Are you serious? He doesn’t hate you.”
“But I—”
Rolling her eyes, she cuts me off again.
“You acted like a jackass. Yes, I know. But that didn’t change how he feels about you.”
I glance around the diner at the remaining customers, cataloguing who’s here to witness me getting told off by a thirteen-year-old.
The old couple I was a dick to earlier is still here, no surprise.
They’re staring into their empty coffee mugs, pretending not to listen, but I’m sure they’ve caught every word.
Returning my focus to May, I tell her truthfully, “I don’t understand what you want me to do. Your dad and I didn’t exactly discuss what was going on with us. I thought I’d made it clear how I felt about him, but...”
“But you’re not the best at communicating,” she fills in for me.
“And Dad can be a ball of anxiety. I think he doubts his own worth sometimes.” Her face softens as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You make him happy though. He’s always smiling, even if he’s not always happy. But when he’s around you, his smiles are different. It’s like he lights up inside whenever you look at him.”
A little ball of hope begins forming in my chest.
That’s what happens to me whenever Brenden looks at me.
And I want to be that for him too.
I want to be the one who makes him the happiest, who gets to see his most genuine smiles.
But I still think he could do better than me.
“Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do.” May slaps both hands on the counter and fixes me with a very intense stare.
“Remember that fake story I told my grandparents about how you and my dad got together?”
How could I forget?
She said she basically tricked me into asking him out by telling me she was going to find someone else to do it.
“Well, consider this another version of that, only for real this time,” she says.
“I know you love him. I’m pretty sure you’ve loved him for years, even if you didn’t realize it.”
“I—”
She holds up a small hand to silence me.
Which is more intimidating than it has any right to be, but probably also for the best, since I have no idea what I was going to say.
“It’s time for you to pull your head out of your ass. Excuse my language.”
That almost makes me laugh, because she’s been swearing since she walked in here.
“If you can be brave enough to really be what he needs, then I’ll help you get him back.”
“What?” I ask dumbly.
The look she gives me has me thinking I should keep any sharp objects out of her reach.
“But if you’re not ready, if you can’t do it... then I promise I’m going to make sure he gets over you. I’ll find him someone else who will love him like he deserves.”
Just like that, the tiny ball of hope she gave me evaporates.
The thought of Brenden with someone else makes me sick.
I might not think I’m good enough for him, but apparently, I’m selfish enough not to want him with anyone else.
“I... I don’t know,” I tell her, though I’m not even sure what I mean by that.
Because I do know what I want.
I want Brenden.
I want me and him, together, every day.
I want to love him, and take care of him, and listen to him babble about drag queen competitions on TV, and fuck him so well that he whimpers and trembles for me.
But I don’t know if I should go for it.
Don’t know if he’ll forgive me.
I don’t know how to make the right choice.
“Hurry up and decide,” May says.
“I won’t wait much longer.”
With that, she spins around and walks out, leaving me standing here dumbfounded.
And shit .
I might not know what the correct choice is, but she’s right.
I need to do something .
I start with my dad.
Because regardless of what I decide about Brenden, my dad should know the truth about me.
It’s way past time.
I think he knows I’ve been avoiding him, because when I show up on his front step and knock on his door, he looks surprised as he opens it.
It might be strange that I knock on the door of my childhood home instead of using my key to let myself in, but we don’t have that kind of relationship.
And I’m not sure who’s fault that is anymore.
Probably mine.
“Hey,” I say.
“Are you busy?”
He shakes his head.
“Nah, just double-checking the books from when I was gone. Marty isn’t the most organized, but it looks like he did a good job.”
“Can I come in?”
When he steps aside for me, I walk past him and into the living room.
It’s cleaner than it usually is, probably because he wasn’t living here for the last month.
But there is a thick ledger spread open on the coffee table with a bottle of beer and bag of chips beside it.
I take a seat on the couch, and he plops down in his recliner.
The silence stretches between us while I figure out how to start.
Maybe I should have figured that out before I came, but honestly, once I got up the nerve to do this, I just needed to get over here before I lost it.
“I need to tell you something,” I say uneasily, scratching my jaw.
“Uh huh,” he says, already sounding unhappy.
“And I’m guessing this has something to do with whatever shit was going on with you and Brenden and his family the other day, right?”
That catches me off guard, even if it shouldn’t, and anything else I might have said next flies out of my head.
Grabbing his beer off the table, he takes a long pull from the bottle, eyeing me critically the entire time.
My skin feels clammy, like I’m coming down with something.
Except I know that’s not what it is.
It’s just me being a chicken, cowering under my dad’s stare.
This man raised me.
Practically on his own.
I know he loves me, just like I love him.
Even if neither of us says it too often.
There’s no good reason I should be so afraid of telling him I’m gay.
I may have my reasons, yeah, but they’re not good enough.
Not anymore.
Do I really think he’ll stop loving me when he finds out?
I’m honestly not sure.
But I do know that if he does, then that’s on him, not me.
I can’t let how he feels stop me from living my life the way I want to.
All these years, I wasn’t interested in dating, so I didn’t think it mattered if I was out.
Now things are different though.
Because now there’s Brenden.
Now there’s someone I want to be with.
Not just in private, but in public too, without having to hide.
And if there’s any chance that he might still want to be with me too after I screwed everything up so badly, then I need to do this.
So I sit up straighter and meet my dad’s stare head-on.
“It does have something to do with Brenden. But it’s also about me.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath.
Here goes.
.
.
something.
“I’m gay.”
“Right,” he says shortly.
That makes me pause, because what the hell?
Was that supposed to be sarcasm?
Does he think I’m playing a freaking joke on him?
“Uh.” I quickly gather myself again.
I don’t want to back out of this.
I need to make him understand me.
“So when I told you there was nothing going on with me and Brenden, that was a lie. The truth is, there was something going on. It’s kind of complicated, because at first, I was only doing him a favor. We were pretending to be in a relationship for May’s grandparents because he thought...” Shaking my head, I try to keep this simple.
“Well, it doesn’t matter why he wanted to do that. The thing I need you to know is that it turned into something more.”
“Okay,” he says again, taking another sip of his beer.
“I have feelings for him,” I admit.
And as soon as I say those words out loud, I feel lighter.
So I keep going, putting it all out there, ignoring the inscrutable way my dad’s looking at me.
“I want to be with him. If he wants that too. Honestly, I don’t know if he does anymore, because I really fucked up.”
I pause for a second, realizing I don’t actually know if Brenden ever wanted to be with me at all.
I thought we were on the same page, but.
.
.
“But either way, you should know this about me,” I continue, dealing with one issue at a time.
“I’m gay, and I want to be with a man. With Brenden.”
“Okay,” my dad says yet again.
Growing frustrated, I ask sharply, “Is that all you’re going to say to me?”
He frowns, setting his bottle between his thighs.
“Well, no. I was waiting for you to finish what you wanted to tell me.”
“I’m gay!” I practically shout at him.
I shouldn’t have to keep repeating myself.
“That’s what I’m telling you. It’s a simple concept to understand.”
“Okay...” he says, and when I open my mouth to shout again, he holds up his hands.
“But I thought you were going to tell me more about you and Brenden.”
My anger deflates, replaced by confusion.
“Don’t you understand what I’m saying? We were... with each other.”
He snorts out a laugh.
“Yup, got that. I know I haven’t been in a relationship in just short of forever, but I remember how they work. So I’m not sure why you keep trying to explain it to me like I’m a kindergartener.”
I’m all jumbled up now.
It’s like we’re speaking two different languages and something’s gotten lost in translation.
“Uh. I thought you’d... have questions.” At the very least.
“Look, what kind of questions do you expect me to have?” He grimaces.
“I don’t need to know about who sticks what where.”
I grip the edge of the couch cushion, grounding myself.
That was crude, but he doesn’t sound as disgusted as I feared he might be.
“You’re not upset?”
“That you didn’t tell me you were dating Brenden before I came home? We don’t talk about feelings much, so whatever. If you wanted to wait to do it in person, that’s fine. I’m just confused why you acted so strange the other day and lied about it.”
This conversation isn’t making any sense.
I should be relieved that he’s not going on some kind of gross, homophobic rant.
And I am.
But how does he not understand why I lied?
How is he not more shocked about this?
He squints his eyes, scrutinizing me, then shakes his head.
“Wait a minute. Did you just come out to me?”
“Well.” What the fuck?
“Yeah.”
Is he so in shock that it’s taken him this long to process that?
Suddenly, he starts laughing.
Deep, belly laughs.
I flinch at the outburst, and my legs itch to stand up and bolt.
Here it comes.
I don’t need to take this.
As his laughter dies down, he looks at me and frowns.
“Ah, crap. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to laugh. But was I not supposed to know you were gay?”
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Um. No?”
“You lived with your boyfriend in Boston, didn’t you?”
Okay, I don’t know which way is up anymore.
He knew Christian was my boyfriend?
I never told him, and I assumed he was clueless about it.
I assumed that he assumed I was straight.
With a long sigh, he gets out of his chair, sets his beer on the coffee table, and comes over to sit beside me, looking serious now.
“I think I ruined your big coming out moment, huh? But I swear, I didn’t know that’s what this was. I only thought you were trying to tell me that you finally got your head out of your ass and realized you were tired of being alone.”
“That’s... Yeah, that’s part of what I was saying, I guess. But how did you know I was gay?”
Slapping me roughly on the back, he says, “I’m your fucking dad, aren’t I? Jeez.” Like it’s that fucking simple.
I just sit here stunned.
He knew this whole time?
And he’s acting like it’s not a big deal to him.
I didn’t entirely expect him to react awfully, but the fear was still there.
So for him to have no problem with me being gay, but to also not even be surprised by it.
.
.
I wasn’t at all prepared for this.
Now I’m mentally recalibrating everything I thought I knew about my dad and my relationship with him.
“I don’t understand,” I finally say.
Because I really fucking don’t.
“You’ve always hounded me about when I’m gonna settle down and get married.”
“Yeah. So?” He gives me a few more quick pats on the back before he gets up and goes back to his chair.
“Forgive me if I didn’t want you to spend most of your life alone like me. You’re a good guy. You’d do anything for people you care about, and you’d make a great husband. I think you deserve to have someone who’d do anything for you too. I never said it had to be a woman.”
Well, fucking hell.
I guess he didn’t.
I just assumed that was what he pictured for me when he mentioned marriage.
Have I been underestimating this man my whole damn life?
As I stare at him, I try to come to grips with this reality.
One where my dad is completely accepting, just wants me to be happy, and doesn’t care if I marry a guy.
I want to believe it, but something is still nagging at me, making me doubt it.
And while I never intended to bring this up with him, I think I have to.
Averting my gaze, I scratch at some gunk on my jeans, probably a bit of food I dropped on myself at the diner.
“But uh, when I was younger, you used to say things. Pretty shitty things.”
“What the heck are you talking about?”
I still can’t look at him when I explain.
“I used to watch sports with you. I only stopped because when you got mad, you’d yell slurs at the TV. Homophobic slurs. So I assumed you didn’t like queer people. Or at least, you wouldn’t want your son to be one.”
The silence that follows my words feels as loud as a million people screaming in my ears.
The couch becomes fascinating to me as I stare at it.
It’s old as hell, the cushions marred with stains and rips from my childhood.
Why hasn’t he ever gotten a new one?
My stomach ties itself in knots while I wait for him to say something.
But he doesn’t.
Finally, I risk looking up at him.
His eyes are pained and— Is he tearing up?
He rakes his fingers through the graying hair at his temples before dropping his head into his hands.
And all I can do is watch as his body shakes and I hear him choke back a sob.
When he looks up again, he swipes harshly at his wet eyes, then holds my stare.
“Fuck, Travis, I’m so goddamn sorry. If that’s how you thought of me... that’s what you assumed I thought of you , my own kid...”
He shakes his head.
“I had no idea. I don’t even remember that. But it kills me that my words affected you that way. I don’t wanna make excuses for myself. I just need you to know that whatever stupid shit I said was just that. Stupid shit. Guys like me talked that way all the time back then. And that doesn’t make it okay, but I’d like to think I’ve changed with the times, and I swear I’d never use any slurs like that now.”
“I mean, yeah, I haven’t heard you say anything like that in a very long time,” I tell him.
“Maybe I should’ve brought it up so much sooner and not held on to it for all these years.”
“No, don’t blame yourself,” he says, leaning forward in his chair.
“I’m just sorry I ever made you question how I felt about you. You’re my fucking son, and I love you. I don’t give a crap if you’re straight, gay, bi, or any other letters of the goddamn rainbow. People should be able to love whoever they love without being judged for it. I’ve never felt any differently, but I regret that my actions didn’t make that clear.”
His eyes are watering again, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen my dad cry.
He hasn’t seen me cry since I was a little kid either.
Hell, I don’t even know the last time I cried.
But alarmingly, I’m starting to do it now.
Because my dad just told me he loved me.
While it’s not the first time, it is the first time I’ve heard him say it after knowing that he fully understands who I am.
Maybe if either of us were any better at communicating, it wouldn’t have taken us this much time to get here.
I swipe at my eyes the same way he did, as if the tears offend me.
It kills me to think my relationship with him could’ve been different all this time if only we’d been more open with each other sooner.
We still have more time though.
This conversation doesn’t have to be the last time we’re honest with each other.
But as long as we’re being honest right now—
“I love you too, Dad.”
“You want a beer?” he asks, standing abruptly.
I laugh.
“Sure.”
When he comes back with a bottle for me and a new one for himself, he turns on the TV, but we don’t really watch it.
We just talk.
About random stuff, nothing important.
It occurs to me that this could be a good time to address his habit of using gender stereotypical language, and how that can also be harmful, even if he doesn’t realize it.
But honestly, I’d rather deal with that issue another day.
Right now, I’m enjoying that the two of us can still be like this, how we’ve always been with each other.
Only it’s even better somehow, now that everything’s out in the open.
He surprises me when he smirks and says, “So Brenden, huh?”
My face heats.
“Yeah, but I fucked it up.”
“But you love him?” he questions.
“Yeah. I do.”
He takes a pull from his beer, then asks, “Did you tell him?” And I don’t even have to answer.
After a few seconds of my silence, he huffs.
“Dumbass.”
For a moment, I gape at him, but then I can’t help chuckling.
Because he’s not wrong.
And also, it’s so strange that I’m sitting here talking to my dad about a guy I love.
Strange, but not bad.
It feels like there’s so much more I could tell him.
About me.
About me and Brenden and how I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him.
I might not be great at talking about this kind of stuff, but being with Brenden has helped me become better at it.
Truthfully, I think just knowing him has made me better in a bunch of different ways.
And damn.
That’s one of the many reasons I need him back in my life, isn’t it?
As I sit here, drinking a beer with my dad, I realize I have my answer for May.
I’m ready to be the man Brenden Sanderson deserves.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to him.