Chapter Twenty-Two
Everett Young
Finals are over, and graduation is the week after next. In less than two weeks, I will be a college grad, ready to move on with my life.
And though that is extremely exciting, it also means I have about two weeks before I come clean to Ash and Felicita. Before I lose my family.
I’m not too worried about money; I’ve been saving what little I get and plan to work a random gig after the fallout to save money for Sky and I’s move. But the emotional damage? The potential physical pain?
I am not ready.
But Skylar’s voice rings in my ears every time I think of my adoptive parents, and the expression of pity and sorrow I saw on his sweet face makes me feel… anger.
It makes a large part of me want to confess now. To stand up for myself and make Skylar proud of me. But I’ve waited this long, haven’t I? A couple of weeks won’t truly make a difference.
Plus, I have no idea what I’m walking into right now. Dad called me this morning, asking me to come by after classes. When I offered to bring Ashley, he declined.
I’m terrified that he’s going to push me; that he’ll give me some crazy family heirloom to propose to her with or something.
But whatever it is he has planned, I’m sure I can lie my way through it. And though it doesn’t feel good, and it feeds into that alter ego of mine that makes me crazy when someone else speaks to Skylar, it is necessary.
For just a bit longer, I will not be kind. I will be far from the good boy they have raised.
I pull into the driveway of my childhood home and park, taking a deep breath to center myself. Ash does not come to the front door as I walk up the steps, so I knock lightly and walk in, heading toward the sound of clinking dishes.
I find Ash at the dining room table, which leads me to assume it’s Felicita in the kitchen. He sits with his back straight, staring at the entryway with dead eyes.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” I greet him, stopping before the table.
I’ve grown accustomed to his kind smile and his gentle way of speaking to me, so as his eyes lift to meet mine with that cold glint, I nearly flinch.
And suddenly I’m back at Skylar’s apartment, and he’s telling me that these people are not my family. That if they were, I wouldn’t be scared of them; I wouldn’t have to earn their love.
“Sit, Everett,” Ash commands.
It feels as if Skylar is in the room with me, flashing warning signs with enthusiasm. He’s warning me that whatever is about to happen will not bode well for me, and that I don’t have to take it.
I’m positive this vision of him is my own self-consciousness, but it’s smart to imagine these thoughts as his. I’ll listen better this way.
‘Sure. Is everything alright?” I ask, sitting across from him.
I want to tell them. I want to call Felicita into this room and tell them that, even though I’m not too fond of all men, there is one that I love, that I want for the rest of my life, and they cannot stop me.
Maybe it was confessing the plan to Skylar, or maybe it was him agreeing to run away with me, but either way, I’m tired of holding this secret. I’m tired of hiding us when I’m so proud to be his.
“We know, Everett,” Ash explains calmly.
His calm is frightening, and for a moment, I don’t understand. And then a moment passes, and all I can feel is terror.
He knows? What does he think he knows? Should I just confess now, since I was already considering it?
“Sorry?” I mumble. Nothing else will leave me.
“I saw you. I had a meeting by the school the other day, and I drove out there. I saw you outside of that shitty little diner with your tongue down Skylar’s throat.” He’s not screaming the words, nearly stating them, and that in and of itself is almost worse.
I say nothing. I can’t force a single word to leave my mouth in the face of his discovery and my own stupidity. Why that day, of all days?
“Nothing to say for yourself?” he pushes.
Do I? Do I have anything I can say for myself? I have no idea which decision will be less painful, and I’m so tired of getting hurt.
But I think of Skylar, of his sassy comments and his beautiful cries, and I realize it doesn’t matter how much it hurts now, because forever is going to feel so good.
“I lied,” I say, my own tone confident despite my fear. “Ashley is not my girlfriend; we’ve been pretending. I’m actually dating Skylar, and I love him.”
Ash considers me for a moment, still incredibly calm. “So you deceived me.”
“I did. I just wanted you to be proud of me.”
He takes my whispered response and sneers, spitting out, “Proud of you? If you wanted me to be proud, you wouldn’t act like a homo.”
My hand slams down against the table, anger blooming inside of me. He’s not just dissing me, but Skylar as well.
“Enough,” I demand. “I will not sit here and let you berate me. I graduate in less than two weeks, and then I’m leaving. You won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
Ash leans back in his chair, once again the picture of someone completely unbothered. “So you’ve finally grown a backbone, huh? I ought to give you the back of my hand for that outburst.”
I may now be strong enough to say my piece, but on the inside, I’m still the scared little boy he’s raised, so I flinch at the comment.
“And you will be leaving, Everett,” he adds. “Somewhere far, far away.”
“What… What does that mean?”
“It means that you will not embarrass me. I will not have an openly gay son running around this town, this state, ruining the Carmichael name.”
“Wait,” I interject, my back straightening. “What are you saying? You can’t force me out of Florida. I’m a grown man.”
“Like hell I can’t!” he shouts, and it takes everything in me not to shrink into my seat and disappear altogether. I can feel the phantom brush of his knuckles against bruised skin. “You will leave, or you will regret it.”
I don’t understand him. Is he threatening to beat me up every time he sees me in town? He couldn’t—he has an image to uphold.
And it’s at this moment that I notice the manila envelope laid out before him. He slides it toward me before placing his intertwined fingers on the table.
“What is this?” I ask him, staring down at the envelope.
“This is why you will leave. This is how I win.”
An ominous feeling overcomes me. I fear that in this singular moment the trajectory of my entire life is going to change.
What is in this envelope? I don’t want to open it. I don’t want to see whatever threat or leverage Ash has shoved inside in an attempt to push me out of this state.
I try to catalog every horrible thing I’ve ever done, or anything embarrassing enough to scare me so badly, but come up short. To appease him, I’ve never truly stepped out of line.
“Go on,” Ash urges. “Open it.”
I guess I don’t have much of a choice. Whatever is inside could affect my future.
With shaky hands, I pick up the envelope and undo the clasp, pulling a packet of documents about an inch thick from the sleeve.
The first words my brain can comprehend are Skylar Parish, written in bold letters on the line titled Respondent.
“What the fuck is this?” I sneer.
“Legal documents, revealing your boyfriend as a convict,” he explains smugly.
“C-convict?”
“Just read the damn papers, Everett.”
But I can’t. They’re impossible to understand with all of the legal jargon, and my eyes are beginning to water.
I wipe at them quickly, flipping to a page with words that make more sense. Under Allegations, there is a typed paragraph:
On or about Wednesday, August 17th, at approximately 3:58 p.m., Respondent [Skylar Parish] and Victim [Jerome Tailor] were located on the premises of Sinclair Public High School, 3574 Sinclair Ave.
Without consent or provocation, Respondent repeatedly struck Victim in the face, stomach, and skull with closed fists, causing the Victim to fall unconscious.
While Victim was unconscious, Respondent continued to strike Victim, despite his inability to retaliate or retreat.
As a direct result of the Respondent’s unlawful conduct, Victim suffered severe injuries, including but not limited to a broken nose, two fractured ribs, and severe brain trauma.
I flip back to the first page, finally bothering to read more than just Skylar’s name. It’s a petition to have a juvenile appear in court, accused of aggravated assault. His parents’ full names and even his address are listed.
“Read the back page,” Ash suggests. “It’s the best part.”
My heart is beating so loudly that I barely hear him, flipping to the back page as a cold sweat trails down my spine.
It appears to be the resolution to the charge, in which the Parishs covered all medical charges, a fee for emotional damage, and Skylar was required to complete mandatory counseling for the case to be dismissed.
I set the paperwork down, my head reeling in a way that is making me nauseous.
“Do you know what it means?” Ash asks.
“N-no. I don’t.” I refuse to.
“It means that Skylar nearly killed a kid on school property and then was forced into anger management. It means that, though this case was dismissed, it wasn’t sealed. If it gets sent to his future employer, they will likely release him from his duty.”
My eyes snap up to meet his, and I nearly choke on the words as I shout, “What are you implying?!”
“I’m not implying. I’m telling you that if you do not leave, I will make sure this charge follows him for the rest of his life,” Ash replies simply.
“What is your problem? You’d ruin someone’s life because I like a guy?” I’m panting, having jumped from my chair to confront him.
Ash remains composed, giving me an annoyed look. “I would ruin his life for ruining yours, yes.”
“But he hasn’t—”
“I did not raise you to like men. When I adopted you, I set expectations that you were meant to follow. Then you met that boy, and suddenly you’re someone else.
I will not be known as the father of a queer, and I will not support this.
This town is too small for you to remain here, for your sinful deeds not to affect me.
If you will not listen and settle down as you’re meant to, then you will leave. ”
I can feel the tears rising as I whisper, “You’re kicking me out of this entire state, blackmailing me, and disowning me?”
Ash nods. “I am. You will leave tonight, and you will not come back. Leave your cellphone—it’s on my plan, anyway.”
“But he was just a kid,” I manage to say. “He was just angry after being bullied so much, and I know him. He would never—”
“The boy he beat up was in a coma for days. He almost died, Everett.”
“No,” I breathe out, stumbling back a step. “You’re lying. I… No.”
I know Skylar. He may be a vicious little snake when he wants to be, but he wouldn’t try to kill someone. He’s a good man—trustworthy and reliable. If he were truly evil, I’d know.
After all these years, after all the time I’ve spent with him coiled so tightly around my neck, I would know if he intended to squeeze.
“People are complex,” Ash tells me. “It’s not your fault that you couldn’t see him for what he truly is until now. But it is your fault for falling for him. For going down this path.”
We’re staring at each other; the sounds of dishes clanking in the kitchen have long since been silenced.
I never could have guessed this would happen. I figured my father might disown me, but removing me from Florida altogether? That’s… I’m reeling.
And Skylar… What is all of this new information? I’m being force-fed a million horrible details about the man I love, and I’m suffering for it.
For loving him, for defending him, for wanting him.
It suddenly becomes apparent to me that I do not have every version of Skylar stuffed in that never-ending folder dedicated just to him. There is, in fact, an entire side to him that I have been blind to—that he never bothered to show me.
“Dad…” I call out, my voice shaky and full of the fear I’ve been repressing.
“Not anymore,” Ash replies. “I’m nothing to you now. All of my time and money have been wasted. Go upstairs and grab your things; I will drive you to the bus station. Leave anything that is not a necessity.”
“But graduation is—”
“They can mail your diploma,” he interrupts. “You will not attend.”
His expression tells me that there will be no more arguing. He is done with me, completely and thoroughly. And as much as I’ve tried to prepare myself for losing my family, I never anticipated it would hurt this badly. That it would feel like being sliced into and dissected.
I didn’t prepare myself for the hole in my chest, the one where the love of a family is supposed to sit, to grow wider, becoming a black hole and sucking me into it.
Turning to head toward the stairs with my head hung low and the manila envelope in hand, I cannot hold back the tears.
“Oh, and Everett?” Ash calls after me, and I turn to face him. “If I find out that you see him before you leave, if you contact him and I hear about it, I will send this document to every hospital on this side of the country.”
My heart sinks. I can’t even say goodbye? Have I lost him despite my best attempts at keeping him? What will he think once I disappear forever? Will he know that I love him? That I now know the dirtiest parts of him, and I think… I think I still love him?
I guess I will never find out. It’s his happiness or mine, after all.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Ash studies me for a moment before, with the least amount of emotion possible, he says, “I regret adopting you that day. I regret bothering to give you a life worth living. It was wasted. You were a waste.”
I think he might be right.