Chapter Thirteen

Nick

June

 

The brown, alien-like form crawls over the tomato leaf, finally settling far too comfortably on the silvery stem. I stare at the insect for a long moment, trying to think of some benefits stink bugs may offer the ecosystem. The gross, rotten cilantro scent it emits prevents it from being a popular food source for birds. In the looks department it’s no great shakes, mottled brown and vaguely creepy. And they are an invasive species. So it’s nothing but a pest. An awful pest that, along with its friends, is invading my fragile, newly transplanted tomato seedlings. I pluck the bug from the stem and stomp on it, maybe too aggressively, with the toe of my boot. I’ll have to ask Hector what he thinks about applying some Kaolin clay to this bed. And the adjacent squash and herb beds too. Damn bugs.

Out in the orchard Jenna and Hector chat away, their voices distorted by the distance and breeze. Jenna has been in an uncommonly chipper mood over the past few weeks since she and Anna started hanging out. Jenna doesn’t let on much, only says Anna is cool, and funny, and other positive generic traits. But every time I see her she’s smiling and kind of spacing out, which seems like a good sign. When I mentioned the potential double date, she was pretty excited about the idea of going kayaking. But with late spring comes the height of planting and the start of weeding and the influx of pests, meaning Hector, Jenna, and I finish each day so exhausted we can barely haul ourselves up onto the porch for a beer or glass of lemonade. We really should hire someone else.

The nights David has come over I’ve been so exhausted I’ve made lousy company, spacing out during dinner and dozing off right after sex. I’m pissed at myself for being such a terrible boyfriend. After the night Dan and Johnnie saw us outside the restaurant in Kingston we sort of defaulted to spending time at my place again. I know I should bring it up, talk the whole thing over with David. Honestly I should come out, once and for all, so I don’t have to worry. But anytime I think about sitting down with my parents and telling them the truth, I want to scrunch up from the tight discomfort blooming in my gut.

I have to remind myself that I did do at least one good boyfriend thing over the last month. David mentioned his dad was griping about feeling trapped around the house, so I’d invited them over for dinner. I even made a vegetarian, low-salt meal that managed to satisfy all Dr. Webster’s new and old dietary restrictions. David told me his dad was doing much better, that he was becoming more self-sufficient for daily tasks, and that his strength and outlook had improved a lot from being able to take short walks outside.

But Dr. Webster was so different from the man I’d known that I could barely believe it was him. The Dr. Webster I knew was, well, kind of kooky. He was taller than David, but they had the same willowy frame and animated way of talking. They made the same wild gestures when they were excited about a topic and the same stony face when they seemed irritated. The Dr. Webster I knew would go on long tangents about politics, pulling facts and statistics seemingly out of thin air to support his claims. He would tug on his salt and pepper hair as he talked, making it stand on end.

I never told David this, but I always thought the hairstyles he spent so much time on, all tousled and pushed back, looked a lot like his dad’s hair after a particularly heated tirade. Dr. Webster was undeniably sharp. I knew without a doubt, for example, that the man was totally aware of what had been going on between his son and me throughout high school and David’s time at college. He didn’t like to pry and didn’t care what David did in his personal life. A far cry from my own parents.

But now Dr. Webster is frail with brittle-looking hair. He spoke with effort and spent most of the meal chewing intently and listening to David and I make small talk. But then he’d surprised me at the end of dinner when he’d looked between the two of us, nodding with a trace of one of his old knowing smiles on his lips. David immediately seemed to panic on my behalf, shooting his father a death glare then an apologetic look my way.

David’s willingness to keep our relationship a secret caused a weird mix of emotions to well up inside me. On one hand, I was thankful that he was so patient with my need to come out slowly, but on the other hand I was getting frustrated with myself. David, a man who’d been comfortably out since he was thirteen, did not need to be sneaking around as a fully fledged adult.

So, I’d blurted it out, telling Dr. Webster in a convoluted jumble that I was gay and that David and I were trying out a relationship. David’s face went an adorable shade of pink, but he’d grinned at me and pressed his leg against mine under the table. And Dr. Webster nodded again, blinked a few times, and said he hoped I made his son happy. So there it was. I was out to another person.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts and bringing a smile to my face. David and I usually text throughout the day, sending stupid jokes back and forth and sometimes exchanging the kinds of messages that make me grateful I can steal away to have some privacy. When he sent me an unprompted but very welcome naked selfie last week, I’d been so immediately turned on that I’d escaped to the abandoned hayloft in the barn to call David, both of us jerking off and whispering what we wanted to do to each other into the phone. It’s been a strange, delightful comfort having David in my life again.

When we were kids I could never seem to get enough of David. Any time I spent at football practice or hanging out with other friends was time I wanted to be with David, talking or watching him do his homework. He’s still the first thing on my mind when I wake up, on the edges of all my thoughts throughout the day. I even dream about him.

But when I pull my phone out of my pocket, Jason’s name on the screen has my heart beating too fast for an entirely different reason. Jason and I don’t exactly have a friendly relationship, especially since I moved out to the farm. Any messages we exchange are about family stuff, or the occasional nonsense drunken text Jason fires off when he’s out partying. When I saw Jason at my parents’ for Sunday dinner, the past three weeks he acted like his normal obnoxious self, getting too tipsy on beer before we ate and following in my father’s footsteps with muttered comments that Lexi could stand to lose a few pounds. For a few days after my date with David, I’d been freaking out that Dan and Johnnie would tell my brother about what they’d seen. But nothing changed so I finally let myself relax into the assumption that the guys had been too drunk to relay what they saw.

Reading Jason’s text, though, my worst fear comes true. His message is a screenshot of a conversation with Dan, stupidly nicknamed Dan “Tha Man” Rubinsky in Jason’s contacts. I double-tap the image to bring it up large so I can read it. The conversation dates from a few weeks ago.

Dan: So your bro dumps Christi and now he’s gay, huh?

Jason: Dude, wtf ru talking about?

Dan: Lol yeah. I saw him w a guy uptown Kingston last weekend.

Jason: No way. Stop fucking around man. U were prob trashed.

Dan: Lol yup. I was pretty faded. But it was DEF Nick and that weirdo he was friends with in hs. Your bro tried to confront me and shit.

Jason: Shut the fuck up.

I read the conversation over and over. I’m shockingly calm as I try to think of a reasonable reply. Before I can say anything, though, the little gray bubble pops up showing that Jason is typing something else. So I wait, gripping my phone almost hard enough to break it.

Jason: Something u wanna tell me bro?

My mind reels for a minute, frantically hoping Jason just wants to know the truth, that he might be supportive. I think about texting him back, even calling him and telling him that David and I are together and that I’m happy for the first time in years. Then my phone buzzes one more time.

Jason: U shouldn’t hang around with guys like that. Pops was right that ppl will get the wrong idea. Or maybe yr into that shit?

The only emotion I allow in is anger. But even that is short-lived, burning through me hot and fast, extinguishing as quickly as it began. Heaving a sigh I type out a quick response, telling Jason we can talk about it on Sunday. Then I turn my phone off.

 

I UNBUCKLE THE passenger seat belt protecting the foil-wrapped strawberry rhubarb pound cake. I made it in the middle of the night once I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was not going to be getting any sleep. Thankfully the cake survived the bumpy car ride intact, not that anyone other than Cassie and Lexi will eat any. My mother acts like I’m insulting her cooking anytime I bring over food and Yiayia constantly claims to be on a diet. Dad and Jason can’t be bothered to leave the wood-paneled den most of the time.

I glance across the street at David’s house, wishing I could forget this whole afternoon and go sit in the backyard with my boyfriend. I grin like a little kid at the word. But the thought of David pushes me out of the car and toward my parents’ house. I have to do this. I have to tell the truth. I have no idea if Jason said anything to my dad but at this point I don’t even care. After spending the last two days trying to calm down my breathing and putting away a few too many beers before bed in an effort to knock myself out, I’m done. No part of me has any misconceptions that today is going to go well. Weirdly, though, I still feel light and excited as I push open the faux stained glass front door.

“Nico, is that you?” My mother’s voice mingles with the sound of sizzling food, the roar of the vent fan over the stove, and the too-loud baseball game playing in the den.

“Hey, Mom,” I call back, bending to take off my boots. The house smells the same as always, the scents of garlic, nutmeg and baked cheese mixing with the overpowering scent of “clean linen” air fresheners my mother seems to cram into every other outlet. The walls are crowded with gold-leafed reproductions of dour Greek Orthodox saints, unsmiling photos of our relatives in Corfu, and ornate needlepoint projects completed by my mom.

My sister-in-law Lexi pops her head around the kitchen archway and waves down the hall to me with a bright smile. She always seems so cheerful, easily deflecting my mom’s guilt trips and somehow laughing at every stupid joke Jason makes. I wonder how she can handle living in this crowded house with her in-laws, not to mention how she puts up with my idiot brother. Since I last saw her, she’s cut and dyed her hair. Jason has a weird obsession with women keeping their hair long and he loves blondes, so I wonder how much grief he’s been giving her about her choice to dye her now shoulder-length hair back to its original deep brown.

“Your hair looks beautiful, Lex,” I compliment her honestly as I walk into the kitchen. My mother is at the stove, stirring ground lamb and onions in an industrial-sized pan. I bend to kiss her head, then I turn to Yiayia who’s sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and working on an elaborate jigsaw puzzle of wolves. She plants a light, violet-scented kiss on my cheek before refocusing on finding the middle piece she needs.

“Thank you!” Lexi chirps. “You’re the only one who seems to like it. Jason freaked out when I came back from the salon. And Cole started crying when he saw me.” I roll my eyes at her in sympathy.

Cassie bustles into the kitchen from the basement, lugging a huge metal container of olive oil. “Nick!” She beams at me and wraps me in a tight hug. I lift her off the ground a few inches, taking comfort in her familiar cigarette and Clinique perfume smell.

“I brought a cake.” My sister takes it from my hands with a wink in the direction of our mom.

As expected, my mother wheels around from the stove and glares at the cake, like I brought a live grenade into her kitchen. She shakes her head at the baked good as Cassie unwraps the foil and slides it onto a blue and white china plate.

“Nico, I made koulourakia. You didn’t need to bring anything.” My mother sighs and returns her attention to the stove.

I’ve always wondered if my interest in baking and cooking bothers my mother more because she sees it as feminine or if it’s because she worries my food might be better than hers. Cassie makes an exasperated gesture behind our mother’s back like a teenager.

Thinking of teenagers, I wonder where my younger sister is. “Where’s Doria?” I ask, popping one of the braided cookies neatly arranged on a clear plastic platter into my mouth. It’s a little dry but still delicious. Absentmindedly I consider tinkering with the recipe I found online for these.

“She’s out with that weird friend of hers,” Yiayia pipes up, not looking up from her puzzle.

My mother interjects. “That Esther girl. I don’t like all that makeup and purple hair. She looks like a witch.”

“Ma, she’s just goth.” Cassie laughs. “And Doria texted me. She’ll be back for supper.”

I drift down the hall, following the smell of beer and drone of sports commentary. Jason and Theo, Cassie’s husband, slump on the dingy tan microfiber sectional. One glance at their glassy eyes and zoned-out expressions tells me they’re both stoned. Well, at least if Jason’s mellowed out he might not get confrontational about me basically blowing off his gay text panic. Jason flicks his eyes over to me as I walk down the two steps into the sunken den but Theo keeps staring at the gigantic TV.

My father, practically lying down in his recliner, grunts at me as I put my hand on his shoulder in greeting. When I stand in front of him for a beat too long all he says is, “Move it, Nick. You’re blocking the game.”

Immediately I wish I could go back in the kitchen, or better yet escape with Cassie to the backyard to get her advice on this whole coming out thing. Instead though, I sink down onto the rocking chair in the corner that my mother sometimes sits in when she watches her soaps. The worn basket next to the chair overflows with her celebrity gossip magazines and needlepoint supplies. I wonder if this is the last time I’ll be forced to sit in this dingy room, pretending to care about baseball, the only sport I can almost guarantee will make me drowsy, and not talking to the men in my family. After I tell them the truth, will my parents still expect me to come over every Sunday for supper? Will I even be welcome in this house anymore?

“Daddy!” My nephew Cole barrels into the room, clutching a Nerf football in one hand and a pair of ratty Velcro shoes in the other. “Mom says you’ll play football with me. Can you?” Cole glances over at me and grins. “Oh hey, Uncle Nick!”

“Hey, bud.” I return his enthusiastic smile, even though his presence immediately makes me falter in my whole living-your-truth coming out plan. If Jason and my dad decide I’m some kind of monster for being gay, I probably won’t be able to see Cole anymore. No more picking him up from school a few times a month to go hiking or play basketball. No more taking him to the movies with Lexi and Cassie or bringing Archie over here so Cole can play fetch with him in the backyard for hours on end.

Jason’s eyes stay glued to his phone screen and for a long moment he doesn’t even seem to register his son’s question. “Nah, kid. I’m watchin’ the game. Go see if that Vinnie kid next door wants to play.”

Cole’s face falls for a fraction of a second, but I can tell he doesn’t want Jason to see his disappointment. He shrugs, jams his feet into his shoes, and dashes out through the back door. The prospect of sitting in this room with my miserable dad, and Jason and Theo too stoned and absorbed in screens to even register anything is so intensely depressing I push up out of my chair and follow Cole into the yard.

“Here,” I say, splaying my hands and grinning at my nephew. He throws the football to me and it wobbles through the air, sort of in my direction, landing with a soft thud on the patchy lawn between us. He kicks at the ground, muttering, but I grab the ball and call him over. For the next half hour I work with him on correct grip and form for throwing a spiral. We start with snapping the ball back and forth short distances, gradually increasing as he gains confidence and improves his form.

It’s nice to see Cole so proud of himself. Jason spends so much time ignoring him, and although Lexi is a great mom, she tends to baby him and praises him for every little thing without allowing him to work through problems. Not that I’m in any place to judge her as a parent. I know she’s doing her best and she’s raising an awesome kid. When Cole gets in a few good, clean throws he starts celebrating like an NFL player, prompting the neighbor kid Vinnie to come out and ask to play. The two of them scamper off to Vinnie’s yard, leaving me alone to sink down into one of the lawn chairs clustered around the tempered glass patio table.

I laugh to myself as I remember trying to teach David how to throw a football when we were in second grade. Every time I’d thrown the ball in his direction he’d deftly scooted away from it, shooting me a dirty look like I was torturing him. After a few failed attempts he rolled his eyes and admitted he found the whole thing boring and pointless. It was nice, though, having someone I could simply exist with. With all my other friends it was all sports and rough play and teasing and trying to one-up each other to do increasingly stupid shit. David and I could sit on the stoop and talk or lay in the grass to watch the clouds. David would make up silly stories sometimes and I loved getting lost in his imagination. I’d craved his simultaneously calm and lighthearted presence.

Shaking myself out of my memories, I glance over at the small raised bed garden I put in when I was living at home. I’d installed the beds right after high school, not long after I’d started working as a line cook at the diner. I wanted to grow a few fresh herbs, but soon my passion for gardening ignited and I was saving seeds and driving all over the state to check out specialty nurseries. It was nice to see that Lexi and Yiayia were keeping up the garden, even if my herb bed had been replaced with my grandmother’s tangle of grocery store cucumber starts, and Lexi had swapped out the asparagus for Big Boy tomatoes.

“Thanks for playing with Cole.” Lexi’s voice sounds over the creak of the back door. She and Cassie drop into chairs next to me, both of them bearing glasses of the sweet white wine they love. Cassie glances around guiltily before lighting a cigarette.

“Don’t tell Theo.” Cassie rolls her eyes. “He wants me to get pregnant, so he thinks I should quit.”

“You should quit,” I say in a nagging tone, not meaning it but enjoying teasing her. She’s been sneaking around about smoking since she was a teenager, always saying she’s on the verge of quitting for good.

“Oh sure, says the guy who used to smoke weed every day.” Cassie snorts.

“You try being the oldest son in this family. And being in the closet.” Damn. I did not mean to let that slip in front of my sister-in-law. I guess my sexuality taking up so much mental space today loosened my lips too much.

Cassie shoots me a what the fuck look. Lexi looks baffled, her heavily filled-in eyebrows pulling together in confusion. She claps a hand over her mouth.

“I fuckin’ knew it!” Lexi laughs, doubling over. Neither Cassie or I react at all. “You always notice my hair and clothes and stuff!”

Cassie glances at our sister-in-law out of the corner of her eye. “Um, look at Nick’s sorry-ass outfit. He does not have that whole ‘queer eye’ thing going. No offense, Nick. I’m pretty sure he’s just one of the only nice, observant people in our whole family.”

Shrugging, I glance down at my T-shirt and shorts. They’re not that bad. It’s plain on Lexi’s face that she wants to start interrogating me. Her lips quirk up in a smile. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem bothered by my accidental confession. She’s clearly hungry for information but I don’t know what to say. I turn to Cassie, hoping she’ll be ready with some of her self-help book advice. Since the conversation began she’s pulled her wavy brown hair into a loose bun, and her big, caramel eyes are locked on my face.

“I’m telling them today.” My effort not to let any of my emotion into my voice fails completely. Even I can hear the stress in my words. “I’m dating someone. Jason found out. But that’s not why, I guess. I need to tell them.” Saying the words out loud solidifies my conviction. Honestly I don’t get why I spent so much time hiding the truth. My family will accept me or they won’t. There isn’t a whole lot I can do about it.

Cassie nods slowly, taking a long drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out in the overfull ashtray. “Who are you seeing?” she asks softly.

“Who do you think?” I laugh. Cassie knows about my past with David—the result of her grilling me incessantly and trying to solve all my problems once she found out I was gay.

She claps her hands together. “Yay! I knew you guys were, like, soul mates!”

“Wait…who? I’m so confused.” Lexi looks back and forth between me and my sister.

“His friend David. The guy who lives across the street you were, like, positive was a model? That dude. He and Nick have been besties since they were in kindergarten. David’s always been, I don’t know, just super gay. Like, he told everyone in middle school, had the whole artsy drama kid thing going. It pissed our dad off big time. But he and Nick stayed friends and they started messing around toward the end of high school.”

“Thank you. That will be all,” I cut in, shooting my blabbermouth sister a sharp glare.

Cassie is unfazed. “So why do you think Jason knows? I haven’t heard anything. And you know if he’d mentioned anything, Mom would not let me hear the end of it.”

I pull out my phone and show Cassie the text exchange. Lexi cranes to look at the screen, and when she reads over the texts, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. My husband is a moron.”

As much as I want to commiserate I simply shrug like the whole thing hadn’t left me on the razor’s edge of a panic attack for the past forty-eight hours. The soft brush of Cassie’s hand over mine brings my focus back to the present conversation.

“You know they’re not gonna be happy though, right?” My sister’s expression is pained, and she tightens her grip around my fingers. “Mom might be okay about it. But since the election, Dad has been…” She cuts her eyes to Lexi as if searching for a way to explain the situation.

“He listens to that stupid radio show all the time. And that psycho host is not exactly positive about the whole gay thing. I hate when he talks that way in front of Cole. There’re kids in his class with gay parents.” Lexi downs the rest of her wine like a shot.

My father basically eats, breathes, and dreams conservative media. He’s never hidden his open disgust with homosexuality. But over the past few years, since the passage of marriage equality and with the increased presence of a gay community in town, his hatred has deepened and become more vocal.

My whole body flinches as Yiayia raps on the glass panel of the crookedly hung porch door. She gestures for us to come inside for dinner. I plant my feet on the ground and breathe. The air feels thin. Hot dread lodges in my throat as I follow Lexi and Cassie into the house.

Supper is the same as always. My mother and Yiayia barely sit, clomping up and down the stairs to the basement “beer fridge” to get refills for Theo, Jason, and my dad. Doria slinks in at the last minute, her choppy bob all mussed, giant flannel hanging down to her knees, reeking of mouthwash and perfume to mask the smell of weed. Once everyone settles in with heaping plates of salad, pasticcio and the weird mix of steam-in-the-bag veggies my mother insists on serving, Yiayia says grace. Cole starts eating his food before she finishes the endless stream of Greek prayer. My leg won’t stop bouncing under the table. Even though my mom’s pasticcio is one of my favorites, with savory layers of noodles, ground lamb, and spiced béchamel, I have to force each bite down with a gulp of water.

When I hazard a glance at Cassie, she’s pushing her food around on her plate. She’s clearly as nervous as I am. My dad and Theo heatedly discuss goings-on at the diner, which grabs my attention. Theo recently started putting in kitchen shifts and it kind of seems like he’s blowing it. I gather something fell through with the contractor he worked for, but I can’t follow their conversation.

Doria’s so preoccupied with her phone I haven’t even had the chance to say hi. I push down another twinge of regret. Now that my little sister is a junior in high school she has understandably zero interest in spending time with me. If I stop coming by for dinner, I probably won’t see her much. When she was still in middle school, when Christi and I first got married, Doria loved spending the night at our apartment. She and Christi would always make me watch horror movies, a genre I hated, but still it was nice. I would make us popcorn and hot chocolate and Christi and Doria would tease me for trying to leave the room anytime something gross or terrifying happened on screen. One of the few highlights from my disastrous sham of a marriage.

Cassie’s knee bumping mine under the table jars me from my thoughts and I realize she’s glancing between me and our mother. My mom’s eyebrows arch to where her fingers knot into her black curls.

“Sorry, Mom, I was spacing out. What?”

She heaves an exasperated sigh. I don’t blame her. Half the time she talks, my dad and Jason ignore her completely. “I said Katie told me this morning at church that you never called her. I thought you’d want to ask her out on a date.”

And there it is. My opening for the big gay reveal, offered up on a silver platter. Drawing in a deep breath I go over all the things I’d planned to say. I’d hoped to drop the topic in casually, although I hadn’t been able to figure out the particulars for that part. I would calmly, clearly tell them I’m gay. I would explain that it had been a struggle for me to come to grips with it but I was happy now that I was in a relationship. I would ask, but not plead for their support.

I glance at Jason. He’s eyeing me with a mix of disgust and confusion. Cassie has become fascinated with the lace embroidery of Greek keys on the tablecloth.

“Oh yeah, Mom, I don’t think so. Katie’s nice but I’m kinda seeing someone.”

Jason scoffs, his face now radiating full disgust as he mutters something under his breath. My mother looks so utterly thrilled that my old wish that I could just be straight slams into me with shocking intensity. It’s a ferocious desire to be the person she wants, to be a son she can be proud of, to be a whole different person. The same desire that led me to marry Christi and push David away.

“Who is she, Nico?” My mom and Yiayia have both perked up considerably. Theo and my dad remain, thankfully, oblivious to our conversation. Maybe I can slip this whole confession in super quickly and wait for my dad to figure it out later.

My breathing thing is back in full force. Even though I know it’ll make it worse, I compel myself to draw in deep, even breaths. They come in as tiny sips of air.

“Goddamn it, Nick. Tell her the damn truth. Tell our mother who you’re fuckin’ with.” Jason almost seems to be enjoying this. Like he’s been waiting for years for me to mess up and he’s savoring the moment.

Lexi and my mother both rush to chastise him for his language. Lexi glances at Cole and my mother eyes my Yiayia. I am motionless. Sometimes in books I’d read descriptions of characters being stunned into silence and I always thought it seemed like an exaggeration. But clearly it’s real, because I am. Rationally, I know my heart is beating, that I’m drawing in oxygen, that blood is moving through my veins. But it’s like every cell in my body has powered down. I do notice that Jason’s agitation has pulled our father out of his conversation with Theo.

“You should tell them, Nick.” Cassie’s voice is soft.

But I can’t get it out. My dad’s eyes narrow. Even Doria has looked up from her phone. Is everyone at the table staring at me?

“He’s messing around with that fucker across the street. David.” Jason spits his name out like bile at the end of throwing up.

“Watch your mouth,” Lexi snaps. The command seems to infuriate my father and Lexi withers under his glare.

“Is this true, Nickolas?” My father looks incredulous, desperate for this whole thing to be one of Jason’s stupid jokes.

I clear my throat. “Yes.” Saying the word, there is nothing. No burst of relief. No swell of fear. Nothing. I look at my father and watch as his features rearrange into a stormy expression.

“I knew him hanging out with that guy was going to fuck him up,” Jason mutters to Theo, who nods but looks weirdly bored by the conversation.

“Um, that’s so not how it works,” Doria drawls.

Finally I manage to string words together, but they’re not the ones I’d planned. “I’ve always been gay. I tried not to be. That’s why I got with Christi, but we all know that didn’t work.” I don’t know why I think bringing up my divorce is going to help the situation.

Tears well in my mother’s eyes, smearing her mascara and streaking down her tan cheeks. “Nickolakis mou. Are you sure? Maybe Christi wasn’t the right girl. You need a family, a good wife. Someone to care for you.” Her voice breaks but she looks hopeful, like the thought never occurred to me.

“Mom, I was miserable married to Christi, but it wasn’t her fault. She did care for me. And it was wrong for me to lie to her. I was losing it, drinking and trying to escape everything.”

I glance at Cole. He looks confused and stressed out by the sudden tension in the room.

I try to calm things down and mollify my mother, sharing a truth I haven’t even thought about broaching with David yet. “I do want a family. I want to get married someday and I want kids. I want all of that, just with a husband.”

My father stands up, his chair scraping back then clattering against the peeling linoleum. “Enough.” He glares at me.

I guess my husband comment probably put him over the edge. The rage etched into his face is so familiar, I’m almost comforted by it. I know what’s coming.

His words are slow, deliberate when he speaks. “Do not come back to this house. I don’t want to see you. No son of mine will choose this…lifestyle. Look what you’ve done to your mother. How could you be so selfish?” He shakes his head. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” With that he picks up his chair and sits back down, gesturing to my mother to get him more food.

I turn to my mom, apologizing to her for ruining dinner, wanting to apologize for so much more. She says nothing. Then I press a kiss to the top of Cassie’s head and pad quietly to the cramped foyer. The silence in the house is heavy as I pull on my boots and close the door behind me, maybe for the last time.