Rhys
I PULLED UP to Kendall’s childhood home, where his parents still lived.
It was in an older neighborhood where most of the houses were kind of run down.
Many of them, despite the obvious lack of money, had clearly put a lot of effort into making their homes a cheery place to live with blooms in the flower bed, and cute decor placed around the porch or yard.
The Austin place had an American flag mounted off the porch rail, and an ornately detailed metal cross staked into the garden soil.
Once I’d parked, I glanced over at Kendall, who was eyeing the house with obvious trepidation. I was pretty sure that once he’d left to stay with my parents, he had never come back here. I’d already gone away to college by that point, and we’d only talked about it a handful of times.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. “We don’t have to. We can just leave.”
He let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his other arm as he stared down into the dashboard.
It was getting later into the evening, and the warm glow of the setting sun was pooling in through his window, washing over his rosy hair and casting shadows onto his face from his long lashes.
He’d put on an oversized, slouchy t-shirt after our shower, and those tended to drift to the side on his slim shoulders to let his collarbone peek out.
He was so pretty and delicate, like a living doll.
“You probably think I’m such a psycho,” he said, looking amused and a bit wistful.
“Why would I think that?”
“I cried over you last night,” he reminded me, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “Just because I was so relieved that you came home to me. And now I can’t even manage to muster up a single tear for my sick mom.”
“You don’t have to feel bad about that,” I said, my chest aching for this sweet and selfless person who’d been treated so badly by his own parents that all the empathy he might have had for them was just gone, leaves in the wind. “No one blames you for cutting them out.”
“I know I probably seem callous, but… I already did all the grieving I can do over this,” he said. “And now I’m just numb to it.”
I reached out for him, because some part of me was just aching to touch him and try to make things better, brushing my knuckles over his smooth cheek before tucking a loose strand of his silky hair behind his ear.
I loved the way he felt under my fingertips, always so soft and warm.
And there was just something about the adorable ponytail he almost always had his hair pulled back into.
It was so cute, and so him, and I loved pulling the tie out myself to watch it tumble down to his shoulders in those beautiful waves.
I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, and realized Hayward had come around the side of the house, presumably to see who had pulled up.
My hand dropped from Kendall’s hair out of habit, but I realized in that moment I really didn’t care if he suspected anything about us.
His opinion was worthless to me. No one who would treat their own kid like that, regardless of bullshit reasons like religion, deserved an ounce of my respect.
Hell, no one who treated anyone like that deserved anyone’s respect.
The fact wasn’t lost on me that his hatred of queer people would extend beyond Kendall.
And despite it being a pretty new discovery about myself, that included me, too.
He might have perceived me as a typically masculine all-American guy, which I supposed I was, but his feelings about me were going to totally change once he realized I was no different than the glittery, pink-haired, strawberry-scented doll next to me.
Noticing Kendall’s worried face, I gave his thigh a comforting squeeze, the way he’d done to me so many times. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever,” I promised him.
He nodded a little, rewarding me with all that adoration he was so good at radiating from his eyes. It made my whole body feel like I was rising up into the air like a balloon. We got out, and I hurried around the car to be by his side.
“Kensington?” Hayward said my name with all the shock that was already clear in his voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Just don’t want any issues,” I responded neutrally. “Making sure everyone is comfortable.”
He scoffed, looking unimpressed. “Your dad send you or something?”
“I’m here for Kendall. My dad has nothing to do with this.”
Hayward’s mouth was a harsh, thin line, his eyes briefly locking onto his son. I wondered if he was disappointed that he couldn’t bully or punish him for the whole fiasco at the picnic. It made me even more glad that I’d insisted on coming along.
“Is Mom okay?” Kendall asked, practically clinging to my side. “Has she been to the hospital?”
In lieu of an answer, Hayward mumbled something under his breath and waved us toward the front door before turning on his heel and stalking back around the house.
It was a totally confusing response, but I could feel the tension in Kendall’s form ebb out a bit once he was out of our immediate line of sight.
I followed him up the steps, and he knocked on the front door. After a few moments, his mom answered.
I didn’t know what to think about Vivian Austin.
I didn’t know much about her, really. She wasn’t as outwardly or vocally terrible as Hayward was, but I knew Kendall’s feelings toward her were complicated.
After all, she’d let Hayward knock him around and verbally torment him for his entire childhood.
“M-mom?” He asked. “Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be resting or something?”
I hung back a bit, since he didn’t seem to be afraid of her like he was of Hayward, but followed him in when she stepped aside.
“I’m alright,” she answered vaguely, gesturing for us to sit on the couch. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
My stomach sank as I imagined the possibilities. Could it be the big C? Would it be something long and dragged out that would make Kendall miserable for who knew how long? I would be there for him no matter what, but the idea of his prolonged sadness made me feel like smashing things.
“What is it?” He asked the moment his butt hit the sofa cushion. “Just tell me.”
Because nerves were making my guts feel like they were being crunched up in a garbage compactor, I tried to subtly glance around the room.
I’d never been in this house before, despite picking Kendall up and dropping him off for sleepovers and trips and stuff.
It was relatively clean and seemed normal, despite an overabundance of religious and boomer-coded tchotchkes.
If I hadn’t known any better, I’d never have guessed the sweetest person in the entire fucking world had spent all his formative years suffering here.
“Well,” she started, and if I was reading her right, then it seemed like she was a bit apprehensive as well. Like she knew what she had to say wasn’t going to be received well. “It’s not that I’m sick, exactly… But no one knows how much time any of us have left on the Earth. No one but God.”
“You’re not sick?” He repeated, disbelief dripping from his voice.
“I was at church the other day,” she went on, like she hadn’t even heard him. “And I was thinking about you during this sermon, about how we don’t talk. I asked my pastor for advice about you, and… He said I should keep trying. So, here I am.”
“Keep trying what?” Kendall asked sharply. I didn’t know whether to be relieved that she wasn’t really sick, or horrified that she’d basically had Hayward lie to his face to get him over here.
“Don’t snap at me,” she commanded him, though there wasn’t much heat in her voice. “You know my faith is one of the most important parts of my life. I’d be failing myself as a good Christian woman and as a mother if I didn’t try to make you understand all the mistakes you’re making.”
“Mistakes?” He repeated. He didn’t sound as worked up as I expected, but he had told me he’d become sort of numb to this whole insane situation. Seemed like that part was definitely accurate. “You mean the fact that I’m gay,” he tacked on, like it wasn’t even a question.
“My pastor told me it’s my responsibility as a Christian to help the people like you, who’ve gone down a misguided path.”
“Pastor David said that?” Kendall asked incredulously.
We had one church in Cherryvale. My parents weren’t particularly religious, but they’d dragged the two of us to church on a few holidays here and there, probably mostly because the sermons had always been focused on acceptance and tolerance, and completely devoid of homophobia and misogyny.
The pastor we’d had growing up was Lyman, and David was his son.
“We don’t go to Cherryvale Community Church anymore,” she informed him, with a haughty sniff. “We go to Westport Methodist now.”
“Great,” he responded flatly. “We’re leaving.”
I rose as soon as he did, following him quickly to the door, which he yanked open to storm through.
“Wait!” She said, chasing us out onto the porch. “How can you do this to our family!? You’re so twisted up in your sinful lifestyle you won’t even hear me out?”
“I don’t owe you anything!” He retorted, his voice finally raising a bit with his anger.
“If you want to live by the rules of some old fucking book, then have at it. I don’t need a book to tell me how to be a good person.
I’m a good person every fucking day, and I won’t let you try to make me think I’m not! ”
“Do not raise your voice at your mother,” Hayward snarled, popping up from the side of the porch and moving toward us with a speed that surprised me. Kendall flinched away from him, and I shifted to put my body between them.
“Don’t take another fucking step,” I warned him lowly. “I mean it. If you try to put one finger on him, I’m scattering your teeth all over the driveway.”
He froze, but the shock and trepidation in his eyes made it obvious he didn’t think I was joking.
“You and your family just love coddling this little brat, don’t you?”