35. Roderick
RODERICK
The whole time Kieran and Griffin are outside, I’m a wreck. First, I pace the living room, hoping to somehow develop X-ray vision so I can see them through the oak front door. When that proves fruitless, I clean up the kitchen instead.
Finally, when I’m back to pacing again, they reappear in the driveway. I see Griffin grab Kieran into a hard hug and pat him on the back several times before releasing him.
Only then can I breathe again. I would never wish a sudden, unplanned outing on anyone. But hugging is a good sign.
I hide in my room when they come inside with the dresser. When Griffin finally leaves, I come bursting out of there. “Are you okay? That was… I’m sorry.” I babble. “Do you feel any better after speaking with him?”
“Fuck no,” he says, trudging into the living room to flop down on the couch. “What a mess. Griffin isn’t going to tell anyone. But he’s, like, Mr. Honesty. So I’m basically forcing him to lie to his wife and our entire extended family on my behalf. It’s a disaster.”
“So don’t force him?” The words slip out, even though I know it’s the wrong time to make this point. Kieran is in shock right now. He’s not ready to hear that staying in the closet is a choice.
The horrified look on his face is proof of that. “Roddy, I’m not you.”
“I know you’re not,” I quickly agree. “We’re walking different parts of the path.”
“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he says. “It doesn’t matter how nice Griffin was to me just now. The timing is terrible.”
A very familiar panic begins to percolate inside me. “You feel this way right now because you had a scare. But once you have a little while to get used to the idea, you might realize that it’s not so terrifying to show people who you really are.”
“Not happening,” Kieran snaps. “That is not how it works for me.”
His sudden anger is so shocking that I spend a long beat trying to figure out how I made him so mad. And I’ve got nothing. “Look, I know your family is important to you.”
“You don’t know the first thing about it,” he says icily. “Griffin isn’t the problem.”
“Then tell me what is,” I fire back. He only scowls. “I’m not trying to paint some rosy picture for you. I promise you that. But your cousins love you. One of them is bisexual, for fuck’s sake. Your dad is kind of a dick already. Is he really going to get any worse if he knows you like men?”
I take a badly needed breath into the silence that follows.
I don’t know how we got here, arguing about whether or not Kieran can come out.
This whole thing is probably my fault. I should have locked the door after I got his Christmas present out of the car.
And I shouldn’t pressure him. Especially on Christmas , for fuck’s sake.
“Rod,” he says tiredly. “It’s almost time to go. I have to go find a nice shirt to wear.”
“Make sure it’s a really straight-looking one.” It’s a cruel thing to say, and I know it. So cruel that his eyes widen in shock. He waits for me to explain myself, or at least laugh it off somehow.
But I don’t. I just sit back against the couch cushions and close my eyes. “You should go, so you’re not late.” That’s as conciliatory as I can manage to be.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.”
He gets up and climbs the stairs, while I sit on the couch feeling like a complete shit.
Kieran had a stressful moment with his cousin, and instead of listening, I threw a tantrum.
I pushed him away, because I’m terrified that he’s going to end up like Brian—trapped in the closet, with me in there with him.
It’s not an idle fear. Kieran clearly isn’t ready. This is all new to him.
But not to me, unfortunately. Nothing about this is new at all. And I promised myself I wouldn’t end up here again. I promised .
Kieran comes back down the stairs a few minutes later, wearing a nice blue button-down shirt that I cannot even compliment because I was already an ass about shirt choices. “We’re going together, right?” he asks. “Driving two cars is a waste of gas. And everybody likes to save gas.”
I listen to this rambling bit of logic, and it hurts my heart. If I’m going to be in a relationship, it has to be with someone who doesn’t need a solid alibi for sharing a ride with me.
And while I know that Kieran isn’t ready to come out on Christmas, I can easily picture myself sitting on this same couch next Christmas, with the same fancy cake waiting in the kitchen, asking myself how another year has gone by in our secret relationship.
I take a deep breath and do the difficult thing.
“Kieran,” I say quietly. “I’m not in the right head space to go with you today.
Can you take the cake I made and just tell anyone who asks that I need to catch up on my sleep?
Or that I have a headache?” It’s not even a lie.
I can feel a headache blooming behind my eyes.
“What? You said you were coming. Everyone will be there.”
That’s the problem, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to make a life for myself in Vermont. But every single person I know in this town is related to Kieran, either by blood or through my job. I’ve done it again. I’ve painted myself into a corner by falling for a man who requires me to hide how I feel.
This is all my fault. But it’s still going to hurt both of us.
“I shouldn’t have agreed to go,” I say as gently as possible. “I don’t want to spend the day pretending that you and I are just roomies who split the heating bill. Not on Christmas.”
“Oh,” he says, and then frowns. “But this morning you said you were excited to go.”
“Yeah,” I admit.
“What did I do wrong?”
I try on several answers to that question, and they all sound petty.
You won’t hold my hand under the dinner table .
After two whole months of exploring your sexuality, you’re not ready to change your life .
“It’s not you, it’s me,” is what I come up with.
“I’ve faked my way through many social gatherings before. I just can’t do it today.”
His forehead wrinkles, and I’m sure he wants to argue the point. But in the end, he says, “Okay.” And then he turns around and walks toward the backdoor, where his coat is waiting on a hook.
I follow him with the cake I made, so he won’t forget it.
“If you change your mind…”
I nod quickly as I hand over the cake. We blink at each other for a second. It’s the first awkward moment between us in a really long time.
Then he goes. I stand there in the back hall, listening to the sound of his truck’s engine warming up.
After a minute he backs down the driveway and leaves.
Still, I don’t move. I wait until the engine sound has completely died away.
I don’t know what I was waiting for, anyway.
I was definitely not waiting for Kieran to stop the truck, walk back into this house, and grab me into a hug.
I was not waiting for him to say, I’m sorry you’re sad , and I love you . It’s definitely too soon for that second thing, if not the first.
But now that he’s really gone, I’m faced with a whole empty day. I’m probably going to spend part of it binging TV shows on Kieran’s computer.
First, I need to give myself a task to feel good about. I start cleaning. The bathrooms are first. Then I vacuum the living room and clean out the refrigerator. I turn on some music.
My dining options are pretty limited, given the fact that I thought I’d be eating Audrey’s cooking today. So that’s a little depressing. But I pour myself a mug of coffee and decide I’ll worry about food later.
The house smells like cleaning products and determination a few hours later when I see a man walk up the driveway.
He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.
He approaches the backdoor, and I spot his collar.
He’s the same priest whom I briefly met at the Shipleys’ party back in the fall.
The one who said that my parents were his parishioners.
I feel a sudden, soul-deep chill. Did something happen today? To the Shipleys? Or—wait—to my parents? I yank open the door.
When the priest smiles at me, I feel a powerful wave of relief. “Roderick?” he says cheerfully. He’s carrying a covered dish in his hands. “Sorry to drop by unannounced. But I brought you something, and I wondered if we could have a quick chat.”
“Well…sure?” I’m still a little confused, but I gesture him inside. “I have coffee, if you want a cup. But that’s about it. It’s been a busy month of seasonal baking, and I took the day off from that.”
“I would love a cup of coffee!” He wipes his shoes on the mat that I bought at Goodwill for three dollars.
“And I know just what you mean. Christmas Day is peak season for me. I give more than one service, and then I drive around visiting a lot of people. In the evening, we throw a communal dinner.”
“Right. I heard about that.” The damned dinner is the reason Griffin showed up at our door today, starting all the trouble. See? Church is dangerous. I knew it all along.
And isn’t it weird that the priest is paying me a friendly visit? Is he here to proselytize? Or could he be, like, a creepy priest?
“I swung by the Shipleys’ an hour ago,” he says, tossing his coat onto Kieran’s empty hook.
“You really do get around.” I lead him toward the kitchen and take a clean coffee cup out of the cabinet.
“Well, Audrey’s cooking is pretty spectacular.
A man’s got to eat, even on the busiest day of the year.
And then I heard that you were feeling a little under the weather, so I brought you a plate on my way back into town.
” He lifts the lid on the dish he’s holding, and I see a thick slice of spiced ham, a wedge of potato and cheese gratin, a selection of vegetables and a polenta-looking dish that I might need to taste to properly identify.
“Wow.” What an incredible kindness. The scent of a home-cooked meal rushes up at me. And—this is mortifying—my eyes get hot. “Thank you.” I take the dish from his hands and look away.