CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO DEAN
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DEAN
Dad and I sit across from each other at the dining table, his hands linked together by rigid fingers.
I'm not going to be the one to speak up, so I stay silent.
Dad also stays silent.
I pour two cups of water from the boiler on the table and pass him one.
Dad takes a sip and clears his throat.
My heart skips.
“So,” Dad starts, “remind me how you and Nick met?”
Cutting my drink of water short, I swallow it, along with my nerves. “He took a Chinese class and needed a tutor.” Maybe I can still deny everything to keep the peace. “Then we became friends.”
“Look, kid. I’m not blind—there’s no way the air mattress stayed inflated for four days. I thought about putting the pump in the room, but it’s bulky, and then you guys never asked to use it, and yeah…”
Oh, god. There’s no putting the cat back in the bag.
“And also…I saw you holding hands with your best friend from high school more than once.”
Fuck. I run a hand through my hair, and by some miracle, I manage to stay focused on Dad. His expression is unreadable. He doesn’t look mad. Maybe disappointed? But it’s too neutral.
“I’m sorry,” I say automatically.
Dad’s face firms right up. “Don’t say that.”
What?
“There’s nothing—” Dad rubs his temple and grits his teeth. “I don’t care. If you like men. It, ah, I thought I made it clear when we’d talk about the news or whatever.”
I can’t stop the garbled scoff rising from my throat, because I remember the exact moment he's referring to. “You pointed at a news segment about a gay couple that was arrested in Hong Kong for running a drug ring, and you asked me what I thought about ‘this stuff.’ And I was sixteen.”
“Did I really do that?”
I nod.
“Okay, maybe I could have chosen a better example. Anyway, I really don’t care. I doubt your mother does, either.” He shifts in his chair at the same time I do, and it's painfully obvious neither of us are comfortable with this discussion.
Neither of us admit it.
“Thanks for…not caring,” I manage. “It's still hard to talk about this kind of, like, identity stuff.”
“Then let's not,” Dad says quickly. “You like men, Nick's your boyfriend, and your parents won't really care.”
“Nick isn't my boyfriend,” I correct.
“He isn't?” Dad rubs the bridge of his nose. “But he came all the way to China with you.”
“That doesn't mean anything. He didn't want to be alone for two weeks,” I reiterate.
Hold up—Dad’s smiling.
Now I'm confused.
“So Nick's solution to being lonely was…to come to China,” he says. “Has he even left the US before?”
“He has.” I pause after my fast, firm response. “I think he’s visited Canada.” The second part comes out a lot quieter, and then Dad fucking laughs.
“Hangzhou is a lot farther than Canada.” Dad clears his throat again, and I have no idea why he’s pressing on with this conversation. “I think he might like you. Just a little bit.”
“Dad,” I groan. “That’s so inconvenient. You know I’m moving back in four months. We can’t go anywhere.”
“So you don’t like Nick back?”
My reply flies out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “I never said that.” When Dad doesn’t say anything, I have no choice but to keep talking. “I like him. I really like him.”
“Ah, so you’re admitting it.” Dad smiles and rubs my shoulder. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Besides, you’re my boy. There’s no getting something like that past me, at least not easily.”
And come to think of it, I didn’t exactly try, beyond making sure my parents couldn’t hear us doing certain things.
“That’s it? The way we look at each other?” I keep my fingers crossed for Dad to deflect and talk about something else, but he doesn’t.
“You seem happier. I mean, you weren’t sad the last few times you came home, it’s just this time, it’s different. You haven’t complained once about your high school friends not being in town.”
Sheesh, he’s right.
“And honestly, if you’re happy, that’s what matters,” he continues. “It’s important to—”
I groan. “Weren't you uncomfortable with the conversation five minutes ago?”
“Maybe, but now I'm giving you hell for liking someone. That's an easy dad topic, no matter who you like.”
“I thought I escaped.” I fiddle with my empty cup, resigned to talking about myself for the next while. “Does Mom know?”
Dad glances off to the side, thinking. “Not exactly. She’s wondered why Nick would come all this way, and she doesn’t know about you and your high school…situation.”
Jesus. “Am I really so obvious?”
“Probably only to people who think two guys being together is a valid option. I’m not saying you should have to hide, but things here are still changing even if Mom and I support you. If you bring Nick back after graduating, I think things will work out fine.”
“He wants to play professional baseball,” I remind him, “and I’m not sure if he’ll want to follow me to China less than a year after meeting me.”
Dad shrugs. “Well, he’s already done it once, hasn’t he?”
Why is Dad suddenly becoming some kind of hopeless romantic on my behalf?
“Is he even going to want to date me?” I counter. “The odds are kind of stacked against us.”
“I think he will. The guy takes good care of you. I've seen you try to cook before, and the pans in the sink are notably free of burnt remnants.”
That gets a scoffed laugh out of me. “Yeah, he’s pretty great. He should be okay on his own, right?”
Dad nods. “He’ll be fine. Probably just needs to think things through.”
It’s like Nick reads our minds—my phone buzzes with a text from him.
Nick
sorry for running out earlier
i’ve walked around and cleared my head
That’s fine. Are you ok?
yeah I’m good. made it to the broken bridge at west lake
meet me here?
Sure, I’ll be there asap
“He’s at the Broken Bridge, and he wants to talk,” I tell Dad.
Dad raises his eyebrows. “Wow, he chose a good spot for lovers to make confessions. Don’t wait any longer. Go get him.”
I grab my jacket and rush out the door, deciding not to comment on Dad calling the two of us lovers.
What’s the fastest way to get there?
Bike. I’ll rent a bike.
With my fingers shaking, I pull my phone out, dart over to a stray blue bicycle, and scan the unlock code. The thing beeps at me, and I don’t waste any time in yanking it back and mounting it, pushing the pedals and speeding along the road leading to the lake, and to Nick.
Hopefully, his random-yet-symbolic choice of a meetup location bodes well for the conversation that’s a little long overdue.