“What escapades? There are no escapades! You just made a bunch of shit up, because you don’t like the fact I’m gay. You’re a damn bigot, and now you’ve the audience you’ve always wanted.” Stepping away from her, I put a hand over my face and try to calm down. I hate yelling. I hate the fact that I have to have this conversation at all.
“I did no such thing.” She sniffs, infusing the noise with a great deal of disdain. “I merely brought some things to the attention of the courts that may help in determining a fit parent for Parker. I want what’s best for him.”
“Like the fact that I had an eating disorder growing up?” I drop my hand just in time to see disgust in the pinch of her mouth.
“Bulimia in a teenage boy. Ridiculous.” She scoffs. “You always were desperate for attention—running away and throwing up your dinner and…andcoming out.”
She somehow manages to make “coming out” sound more like “committing murder.” I shake my head in mute disbelief. Has she always been this bad, or am I justmisremembering my childhood after so many years trying my hardest to forget it?
“You are not mentally stable enough to parent a child. It’s my job to make sure they know that. It’s only right. Parker deserves a better life than anything you could provide, and you know that’s true,” she continues.
“You know what Parker deserves, Mum? He deserves to not worry about how his food is being paid for. He deserves to know that he’ll be loved and accepted no matter what. Hedeservesto be a kid, and not a goddamn pawn in whatever game you’re playing.”
“I love him,” she argues, voice hard.
“Sure you do,” I agree. “Right up until the moment he acts or believes in something you don’t agree with. You love him right now, because he’s young enough for you to control. Couldn’t manage it with me and Vic, could you?”
“Get out,” she says, pointing toward the door. “This is inappropriate. I won’t stand here and listen to this in my own house.”
“Don’t bother coming by to pick up Parker next weekend, he won’t be coming back here. I’ll see you in mediation, Mum.”
With that, I turn and leave out the front door, letting it go and hearing it slam behind me. I’m halfway across the lawn when my dad’s car pulls up, parking next to mine on the driveway. He gets out, and waves at me.
“Hello, son,” he says.
“Just shut up, Dad, fucking hell.” He looks so offended by the words, I very nearly laugh.
“Come for a visit?” he asks, as though I stopped by for tea and not a shouting match in the entryway.
“Nope. I came to find out exactly how repulsive a personneeds to be to hate their own kid.” I reach for my car door just as Dad rounds the hood, looking as forlorn and confused as a kicked puppy.Limp noodle, Vic reminds me.
“Well, now, son, that’s not true and you know it. Your mother is simply concerned that?—”
“You know what would be nice, Dad?” I cut him off, one foot in my car and the other on the driveway. “It would be nice if you could act like you have a spineoncein your life. It would be nice if you protected your grandson the way you never did your own kids.”
Without waiting for a reply, I drop into my seat and slam the car door.Fuck yes,Victoria’s voice cheers me on as I reverse down the drive.
“Fuck yes,” I repeat, fingers clenched tightly around the steering wheel as I point the car toward the nearest supermarket. I need ginger ale unless I want to be re-introduced to the burrito I had for lunch.
It’s there, in the soda aisle of the Publix, that Victoria catches up with me once more. I’m debating the merits between sugar-free or regular when it hits me, like a neat little dagger slid between my ribs.My sister is dead, I think, and wipe a hand across my face, surprised when it comes away damp.
13
Jack
Nate
Have fun on your date, Micky Mouse!
Jack
Ugh, I don’t know. I think I should cancel.
I just want to stay home and watch your game.
Nate
Nooooo, come on. You watch hockey all the time, but you NEVER go out. It’ll be fun!
