Chapter 30 Harlan #2
Christmas Eve is a quiet affair. My mum gets us all matching Christmas pajamas and makes a small meal while she prepares food for the much larger Christmas dinner.
Tomorrow, the house will be full with aunts, uncles, and cousins.
For today, Millie and I spend the day lounging around, watching Christmas movies.
We occasionally offer help to Mum, who declines every time.
She’s convinced that we’ll make a mess of her kitchen, so we let her do her thing.
Dare and I exchange several texts to check in and send pictures of random things, like our food, what we’re watching, and in his case, pictures of Craig with a Santa hat.
Christmas Eve is a much bigger deal for his family, and they’ll be heading to midnight mass.
I’m lounging on the sofa with my feet in Amelia’s lap while we scroll our phones and only half pay attention to Elf on the television.
My father walks in and snorts at the movie before turning his attention to us.
I eye him warily, because it’s always uncertain what he’s going to say.
I tend to draw his ire when my career comes into the conversation, so I won’t bring it up first, but he has no qualms with reminding me what he thinks.
He swears he’s doing it out of concern, but everyone knows it’s because he’s embarrassed.
Noah Bishop is an imposing man who takes everything far too seriously.
At over six feet tall and sporting a permanent scowl, he’s what most would consider intimidating.
I’ve long stopped being cowed by my father.
He’s a corporate barrister, and the expectation was that I would follow in his footsteps.
Amelia has chosen to study law, but it was never on my radar.
I’ve always been intrigued by the arts. Drawing, designing, creating. I take after my mum that way.
“I hope you don’t intend to dress like that with family here tomorrow, Harlan.
Be serious. You look ridiculous,” he scolds.
I look down at my neon green jumper, with L&L’s logo and a silhouette of a man in lace, and under it, it says “Real men wear lace.” I inhale deeply, ready for the argument.
Amelia goes tense, because she knows how this plays out.
“Surely there’s nothing wrong with a jumper and joggers, Father,” I challenge him, sarcasm dripping in my tone. I know my insolence is going to set him off. Amelia pinching my toe says that she knows it, too. Fuck this, though.
“You know very well what I’m talking about, Harlan. Don’t be obstinate.” He gestures to my jumper, and I follow his movement to the garment in question, as though I don’t understand. “Will you ever grow up?”
“Last I checked, I’ve been on my own for years, with no financial support from you after I graduated uni.
You make it crystal clear, every single time I step through the door here, that you hate my job.
I’m terribly sorry that I am not living up to your impossible expectations as your son,” I bite out.
“Just tell me that you don’t want your friends and family to see my arse in advertisements.
It’s perhaps a bit too gay for you, yeah? ”
“For fuck’s sake, you know I don’t care that you’re gay.
We have done nothing but love and support you.
Before you went and ruined things with Darío, we welcomed him as part of this family, without hesitation and without condition.
It’s not too much to ask that you consider your future.
” His face is crimson as his voice continues to rise.
I get to my feet, so I’m closer to eye level with my father.
I try hard to control my temper with him, because it upsets my mum, but I’m done.
“What you said, specifically, is that you don’t want me to wear anything that may give away where I work.
I worked my arse off to build the career that I have, and all you ever do is shit on it.
Of course you love Dare. He plays baseball, so he’s your ‘ideal’ son.
This, right here, is exactly why I don’t come home more often.
I ask for nothing from you. I moved to another continent, and you’ll still find a way to make me feel bad.
” The yelling has drawn my mother to the sitting room, and she looks horrified.
“Noah, I asked you not to do this. Why must you? We so rarely have both kids home together. Harlan, you know your father supports you,” she starts, but I cut her off. Her defending him is getting old for me, too.
“No, Mum. He doesn’t support me. He barely disguises his disgust for my work, and the attempt to say that it’s out of concern for my future is quite offensive.
I love you both, but I can’t keep doing this.
” I’m so tempted to rebook my flights and go back to New York tomorrow.
I storm out of the room, leaving my parents to fight.
I hear Amelia start to interject, but I can’t be arsed to stick around and listen.
In the quiet of my bedroom, I pull up the train schedule and buy my ticket to Kings Cross Station.
Once I’ve done that, I schedule an Uber to get me there.
I’m not convinced I’ll be able to find a flight for tonight, but I’ll stay in a hotel if necessary.
There’s a knock on my door before my mum opens it, and her face crumples when she notices me packing.
“Lan, please don’t go,” she cries. “I’m sorry your father did that. He just doesn’t understand…” she trails off. He doesn’t understand me, is what she wants to say. I shake my head.
“Mum, I’m sorry. I can’t stay here. The constant judgment and sideways comments are exhausting.
He’ll never change. The only time he didn’t do that was when Dare was here to talk about sport with him.
I’m sorry I can’t be that person for him,” I apologize.
“I wish I could be what he wants me to be, but I’m simply not. ”
“I hate the thought of you traveling through the holiday, Harlan,” she pleads.
I take her hand and pull her to sit next to me on the bed.
Wrapping my arms around her, I squeeze her tight.
I know I’m making the right decision. If I stay, tensions will get worse, and I can’t continue to allow him to do this to me.
I promise my mum that I’ll meet her in London after the New Year, and she relents.
“I love you exactly as you are, Harlan James. I’m proud of you, and I hope you know that. ”
I rebook my flight back to New York for first thing tomorrow morning.
I guess it’s a Christmas miracle that I was able to get a flight at all, so I ignore the price and the fact that I will be sitting in a middle seat on an otherwise full plane.
I consider telling Dare that I’m coming home early, but stop short of sending the message.
He’s with his family, and I don’t want him to worry about me.
With quick emotional goodbyes to my sister and mother, I leave them with their gifts and load my luggage into the Uber.
On a whim, I check for tattoo shops in London that are open on Christmas Eve, and find one taking walk-ins.
I smile, because maybe my holiday isn’t ruined after all.
After sending a quick text to Antonella with my plan, I turn my phone on silent and ignore it until I check into my hotel for the night.