This morning’s hour-long drive out to Canyon Lake consisted mostly of my growing increasingly more bored as I watched Walker and Ozzie put their hands on each other like they couldn’t stand to go more than three seconds without contact.
The universe had made it clear that Ozzie and Walker were meant for each other, and I was meant to get used by our very talented, very discreet friend. It was hard to argue her logic.
When we arrived, I followed the two lovebirds to the deck out back, where a gorgeous spread was laid out on the table.
I was surprised when my parents showed up a few moments later. Dad was escorting Mom, his hand on the back of her waist. They sat down next to each other across from me, smiling.
Aunt Kiyana and Uncle Preston were still flitting about, putting the final touches on brunch, and Ozzie and Walker had gone off to walk the property, no doubt to trade sweet, meaningful blowjobs.
“So,” I said. “Are we going to talk about what’s happening between you two? Or do y’all want me to keep ignoring it?”
Mom’s cheeks flushed, and she reached both hands across the table. I took them in mine. “Sorry,” she said with a guilty grimace. “We wanted the focus to be on you, not with what was happening between us.”
“Which is…?”
“We’ve been worried about you, son,” my father began. “I don’t think we’ve made a secret of that. Being let back into your life has meant the world to me, and I’m—we’re—so glad to see you finally taking care of yourself. But while a relationship with you has always been my end goal, I’ve never stopped loving your mother. Ever.”
“And I’ve never stopped loving your father,” Mom said, glancing away from me to smile at him.
She and I had always been able to admit to each other how angry we were. How fucked up it was that Dad had been so awful. That was easy, even if I’d never told her how guilty I’d felt for my part in the way things had gone down. When he’d started reaching out, I’d taken delight in sharing with her how I’d been capricious with our communication. Texts only, no calls. Taking days to respond. Opening FaceTime with a shirtless guy on my lap.
She’d laughed along with me, but the reality was, it’d been impossible to talk about how much it all still hurt. How I was still this fucked up combination of angry and ashamed. But now, after all these years, maybe neither of us was willing to hold back our love and forgiveness from a guy who’d been trying his damnedest to make up for his mistakes.
I ducked my head. “I hadn’t considered that you would miss him as much as I had.”
My dad placed his hand over his heart. Maybe he’d needed to hear that more than I realized. Maybe he didn’t know how much a son could miss his father.
“These last several years have been hard,” Mom said, wiping away the tear that tracked down my father’s cheek. “We’ve let our anger overshadow our broken hearts, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I think it’s time to rebuild.”
I met my father’s reddened eyes, and any remaining resentment I might’ve had vanished in the face of his hopeful expression.
“I’d like that,” I said, knowing I had to acknowledge my own shitty behavior if we were ever going to make things right. “I’m just sorry that the way I came out fucked everything up.”
My father shook his head. “Absolutely not.Absolutely not.My reaction is on me.”
“Fine, but the way I sprang it on you?—”
He held up his hand. “Deep down, I wasn’t surprised. If I get real honest with myself, I’d tried to push aside that part of you for a long time. I basically blocked every avenue for you to come out and feel supported.” He paused as another tear tracked down his cheek. “I’m so ashamed about how I responded.”
“Dad, you’ve already apologized for that. Multiple times.”
“Well, it hasn’t been enough. Because you still seem to think you’re responsible for the end of our marriage. I clearly have a ways to go to convince you that’s not true.”
“Hendrix,” my mother said, squeezing my hands, “I may have left to protect you, but that doesn’t mean that my leaving was your fault.”
Dad nodded. “Our divorce was all on me, and that’s a truth I’m gonna take to my grave,” he said, his voice cracking. “That you’ve let me back into your life is a blessing I could’ve never demanded of you. That you’re open to building a new relationship with me means more than you could possibly know, son.”
I took his hand and kissed it. “I always looked up to you, and I’m glad we get to start over.” Glancing at my mom, I asked, “How did this happen? Assuming that you’re officially back together.”
She beamed, nearly wriggling in her seat with happiness. “We started talking again when we realized that it might take the both of us to address the fact that you were not doing well. Those conversations allowed me to see how sincere your dad was about making things right. He wasn’t doing it to save face, nor for his reputation. He was doing it because he loved you. Always has.”
“Always will,” my dad said, his tone serious. “I promise, none of this was about trying to get back into your mother’s good graces. I think we were always meant to be together, but I needed this time to grow as a person and realize how I’d let my family’s bigotry infiltrate my beliefs. I have a lot to make up for, but I love your mom more now than I ever have. And I hope that you can accept?—”
I cut him off. “Dad? Do you see Mom’s smile?”
His eyes went to her face, and he spent a long moment taking it in. “Yes. She has the world’s most beautiful smile.”
I made a gagging noise, then reached out to hold their hands again. “You keep her looking like that, and that’s all I’ll ever ask for. I hate that me being queer interrupted your love story.”
