Chapter 19
I go home for a few days before Thanksgiving.
Since I don’t plan to come back for a few days after, I need to swap out my clothes.
When I walk inside, I’m surprised to see my father in the kitchen filling a glass with water at the sink.
He looks up at me and gives me a small wave before he brings the cup to his lips.
I wave back and start to head to my room.
It's really weird to see him. I used to want to see my father all the time when he got off work. Now, I don’t know how to feel about him. I’m torn about if I should try to talk to him again or just stick to my plan of writing him off when I head off to college.
“Jakoby,” he calls before I can take more than a few steps down the hall. I pause and turn around to look at him, sure surprise is evident on my face.
Dad takes a few steps towards me and leans against the wall. “How you doin’, kid?”
My eyes almost bug out. I can’t remember the last time either of my parents asked how I was.
While my mother looks older and her skin is very ashen and gray-looking, my dad still looks the same.
We look a lot alike, except he may have about twenty pounds on me.
Same weirdly- spaced eyes, thin nose, and plain lips.
He used to beam when people told him how much we looked alike.
Like most men, he was excited to have a son to carry on his name.
Let my mother tell it, I’ll never have kids to pass the name down to.
Although I’m sure he doesn’t like it either, my dad didn’t come down on me for being gay.
He just said he didn’t understand it and that’s pretty much it.
I guess he left everything else up to my mother.
I remember thinking it wasn’t for him to understand, since it wasn’t his life.
But I was twelve and didn’t know how to stand up for myself.
I still don’t.
Shaking myself from those melancholy thoughts, I mumble, “I’m good, Dad. You?”
“I’m good. Haven’t seen you around here. Down at Crystal’s?”
I shake my head, still surprised by this conversation. It’s just really out of left field.
“No, Dad. I made a new friend. Ethan.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his tired eyes.
I’m not sure if it’s because Ethan is the new friend I mentioned and he knows I’m gay, or he wants to be happy that I have a new friend but can’t muster the excitement because he’s working his fingers to the bone and needs to rest. “That’s great, kid.
You going over for Thanksgiving? Not sure if there’s going to be much cooking going on here. ”
I nod. Neither of us mention that there’s probably no food here for a meal, and the stay-at-home parent that used to cook probably won’t be sober enough to cook anything that passes for a Thanksgiving dinner.
“You want me to bring you back a plate?” I ask him, surprising myself.
My dad isn’t really a bad guy, he’s just absent. He works himself so hard and I understand.
But I shouldn’t be surprised my father spoke to me. I should be used to talking to my dad, not wondering if this may be the last conversation I have with him for another few months.
He smiles softly but shakes his head. “Nah. The plant will still be open, so I’m picking up a shift. Get paid time-and-a-half for holidays. They’re going to have some food there for us.”
Should have known he was going to be working. I’m sure he doesn’t know how to do anything else.
I sigh, realizing that I wanted him to say he wanted me to bring him a plate so I could come home and see him. If he’d asked, I would have come home with a spread so we could sit and talk like we used to. It would have been nice.
“Okay. I have homework,” I say, making an excuse to end the conversation.
“Okay, kid.” He pushes off the wall, then goes back into the kitchen, and I go into my room.
That wasn’t the worst conversation, but I wish I knew how to talk to my father and not feel like he’s a stranger.
Flopping onto my bed, I pull my phone out and text Ethan.
Me: Just talked to my father.
He texts me back almost immediately, which makes me wonder why he has his phone on him at practice.
Ethan: You okay? Did he say something? You need me to come pick you up?
I smile down at the phone, loving how he cares about me. It’s making me fall for him even more.
It’s scary, to be honest. It’s like I woke up one day and saw him in a new light, and I can’t unsee it. To me, he’s perfect. The perfect friend, perfect boyfriend, perfect protector. I’m not sure there’s anything he can do wrong in my eyes.
Me: No, it was nice, I think. Just weird. I haven’t spoken to him in a while. I shouldn’t feel weird about talking to my dad, right?
Ethan: No. I’m really sorry, creep. You need me?
Me: I’m fine. Thank you though. Why do you have your phone? Water break?
Ethan: Coach let us go early. If you want me to come pick you up, I will.
Me: I’m okay. I have homework to do before the break.
I toss my phone onto my pillow and pull my school books out.
We have one more day of school, and I want to have all my assignments in before the break.
My grades won’t suffer if I don’t, but I don’t want to start slipping up now.
I’m almost out of here. I don’t want anything holding me up or any reason for USC to revoke my scholarship.
I don’t know what I would do if I had to stay here, away from Crystal, Ethan, Mitch, and Elle while they go to the West Coast and live their best lives.
Thanksgiving morning rolls around quickly. Thank God. It’s weird and a little freaky how much I missed Ethan. We’ve been apart two days and I feel like it’s been two years.
He texts me that he’s outside and I have to stop myself from racing out the door. I don’t want to wake my mother.
I walk softly instead, bag over my shoulder, and step out into the morning light.
It’s chilly outside, getting cooler with each passing day.
I breathe in the cool air and hop down the steps of my porch, jogging over to Ethan’s car.
When I slide in and put my seatbelt on, I’m enveloped in his arms, a kiss landing on my lips before I can say hello.
Ethan runs a thumb over my cheek and gives me one more kiss. “Good morning, creep. Sleep good?”
Nodding, I loop my arms around his neck and bring him in for another kiss. Going by the sound he makes in the back of his throat, I surprised him. Join the club. I didn’t plan to do it, but I really missed him.
Ethan takes over, deepening the kiss, his tongue moving languidly over mine. I relax in his arms, my fingers rubbing the back of his neck lightly.
When he breaks the kiss, he chuckles and moves back over to sit more squarely in the driver’s seat. He puts the car in drive and pulls away from my house. “Did you miss me?” he teases. Instead of answering, I stick my tongue out at him, making him snicker.
Walking into his house is like coming home. It’s only been a couple days, but I feel more at ease here than the house I grew up in.
Hearing us walk in, Grace rounds the corner of the kitchen and smiles at me. “Koby. Good to see you, son.”
A lump forms in my throat as I look at her.
Son.
It’s been so long since someone has called me that. Even talking to my dad the other day, he called me ‘kid’. I mean, he’s always called me that, but still. It’s nice that someone is acknowledging me as such, even if she doesn’t mean it like I want her to.
After clearing my throat, I say, “You too. Smells good.”
“Thank you.” She comes over and grabs my hand while kissing Ethan on the cheek. “Come. You two can help me, then I can get you something for breakfast.”
I give Ethan a frightened look and he laughs at me. I can’t cook. I can cook enough so I don’t starve and get all my vitamins, but that’s about it. Anything else and I’m sure it will be burnt or inedible.
“Don’t worry, creep. You’re not cooking anything.”
Thankfully, he’s right. Grace has us cutting carrots, potatoes, celery, sweet potatoes, and shredding cheese.
Then she has us setting the table, cleaning the kitchen and getting out dishes to transfer food into.
As soon as we’re done, she kicks us out of the kitchen, and we go to the theater room to hang out.
Frank comes out from their wing about twenty minutes later, and he and Ethan sit and talk about the football game that’s on.
I sit back, legs tucked under me, and watch how animated the two of them are, since they’re not rooting for the same team.
It’s all in good fun because they keep smiling at each other when they’re supposed to be trash-talking.
It makes my heart squeeze, but I push it away.
My father and I don’t like football, so this isn’t something I wish I had with him.
We liked wrestling, something I haven’t watched in years.
After another hour or so, Grace calls us in for a small breakfast to hold us over until dinner.
Thank God, because I’m starving. It’s around eleven, and she said dinner would be ready by two.
We all sit in the living room, Ethan and Frank still talking shit to each other, while Grace and I give them long-suffering looks.
Dinner is ready at exactly two o’clock. We all gather in the dining room I’m not sure they use often and dig in.
Grace is an excellent cook. Besides the turkey and ham, there’s sweet potatoes, turnip greens, fresh green beans, baked chicken with all the fixings, homemade cranberry sauce, and cherry pie.
I’m not ashamed to say that I have a little of everything…
twice. No one says anything about it because I’m not the only one going back for seconds.