You know how the rest of the day seem to blur by when you have fun? Before I knew it, I was home. Then again, someone was expecting me. Someone who wanted the deets of my recent…Dorian escapade.
“Then what did he say?”
“I’m glad you like it…”
“‘I’m glad you like it’?” Lissie screeched as she rubbed her hands over her face. “’I’m glad you like it’?! Of all things you could say, you only said ‘I’m glad you like it’? Dmitri seriously we need to work on your smooth talk. Jacques makes women swoon better than you and he doesn’t have to bake anything!”
Lisette Roux. First daughter. My younger sister. Has more balls than me and she’s a girl. Makes me wonder what would have happened if we switched genders.
I brushed away that fleeting thought and gave my sister a pat on the head. It was a gesture we both unconsciously developed over the years. “Well, I’m not Jacques.”
“Well, duh. You’re not a hot red-head.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I’m not. Or else we’ll look like an incestous bunch.”
That made Roux laugh. “Still, you should step up your game. How long are you going to keep it all n?”
Right on cue, our father peeked in after three quick raps on the door. “Anyone home?”
“Daddy!” Roux bounces to her feet and toddles to our father. What a daddy’s girl.
“Hey…” Our father smiled at us. “Everything alright here?”
“Yep.” I found myself answering. “Peachy keen.”
I wanted to tell him, to ask him about these stuff but how could I? I don’t want to disappoint my parents, my father in particular.
I’m the only son. His first born. I don’t want to let my father down.
I want to ask him how it felt to fall in love, how he dealt with the butterflies in his stomach, how he managed to conquer highschool with grace (if ever he did it like that) and many other things. But I’m scared. Scared that my own parents will reject me because I’m gay. I’ve read and seen stories about parents turning their back on their children because of what they are whether they were born deformed, mentally challenged, or homosexual. As much as I want to be honest with myself and follow my heart, I’m scared to come out to a world that is unforgiving to a truth that used to be accepted.
Dinner was unusual. Maybe it was the lack of potatoes and an abundance of dinner rolls. Was it possible to run out of potatoes?
“Oh now I know what I forgot,” my mother clapped her hands together in the middle of the meal. “The potatoes!”
Well, there was my answer.
“It’s alright, love…” My father chuckled as he plucked another dinner roll from the basket with a wink (my sister and I groaned). “Dinner’s still great.” That made my mother blush.
Dad looks strict but when it came to my mother, he’s a total softie. It’s like watching two teenagers flirting. It can get a cringey but don’t get me wrong, I think I’m blessed to have parents who are head over heels with each other – especially when they’re almost a decade apart. My dad was 16 when he worked for my grandmother as a part-timer. My mom was ten. It was my mom who had the girl crush with him and carried it as she grew up. I’m not sure at what point did they realized that they fell in love, but they had me while my mom was taking her undergraduate degree. Surprisingly, the family was supportive despite the scandal.
And now here we are.
My mom’s working for our Aunt Anna as her assistant in her psychiatry clinic and my dad is a respected journalist. I’m amazed they managed to find time for us.
“So, how was school?” Dad asked, his laugh lines showing.
“Same old. Same old.” I said, spearing a bit of ham from the plate in front of me. “Math still hates me.”
“Same here,” Lissie pouted with a mouthful of beef and bread. “Math shucks.”
“Lissette, don’t cuss when your mouth is full.” Dad reprimanded my sister although I noticed a twitch of a smile at the corner of his lip.
“Now, now….if we have extra money we’ll get a tutor.” Mom said as she poured out a glass of water for herself.
“What about Uncle Sve?” I asked, a piece of buttered dinner roll in my hand. “Can’t we have him tutor us?”
“Your Uncle Sve is busy with work. It’s a bit embarrassing to ask him.”
“Well it’s worth a try?” Dad smiled inquisitively at Mom. On cue, Mom smiled back.
The family then started to talk about random things, about our pets and other things. I suddenly had this feeling that I need to tell them something….at least to get a bit of weight off of my chest.
“What do you think of the Tizonas?”
I could feel Lissie staring at me. I chose to ignore her stares.
“The Tizonas are good friends of the family. I respect them as people as much as I respect them as much as your mother adores them. Why?”
“What about Dorian? What’s your opinion of him?”
I watch my father’s face turn to something I can’t define. Surprise? Wonder? Disapproval? I’m none too sure. After a heartbeat, he only managed to answer this:
“Dorian’s a good kid…”
I’m not sure if that’s the whole answer, or an abridged version of his thoughts. Nonetheless, the sound of silence that followed made me want to bury my secret deeper. My father must never know his son is gay.