Mac’s jeans tightened.Please don’t do that again.
“I am just enjoying life,” Gideon said. He shrugged his shoulders over and over, like saying “what’s the big deal” on infinite repeat. It was freaking adorable.
“I’m glad. Don’t let your family shit drag you down. Your mom and brother need to work that out themselves.”
“They’re family. I can’t just abundant them.”
“Abandon?”
Gideon did his classic double-point. Mac caught Henry looking at them. He turned red.
“My dad, my dad he passed away eight years ago this week. He did.” Gideon raised his glass to him. Mac’s heart went out to him. He wanted to give Gideon a hug, but a bro pat on the back seemed more appropriate. “He was a real gentleman. Real class act. Like fothermucking Cary Grant or something.”
“I’m sure he was.” Mac tried to take Gideon’s cup away gently. “Do you want a glass of water?”
Gideon yanked his hand back. “What happened with your parents, Big Mac?”
Mac’s insides went cold. “We can talk about that later.”
“Did the mom-and-pop shop kick you out for being gay?” Gideon asked it so innocently, like a child not realizing what he just said aloud. Heads turned to them. Mac wanted to strangle him, if his own memories didn’t strangle himself first.
“Shut the hell up, Gideon. You’re way too drunk for this party.”
“If your parents are still alive, you shouldn’t ignore them. They’re the only parents you got. And they may be gone soon.”
Mac grabbed Gideon by the shoulders and shoved him against a bookcase. Picture frames smacked down. His head burned with anger and hurt. Once the memories started, they wouldn’t stop.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
Delia approached them, concern ringing her eyes. Mac released Gideon and left the party.
Φ
Mac lay in bed, unable to shut his eyes. He heard Gideon creak open the front door. Mac turned toward the wall, hoping to block out the noise.
And then he heard a knock on his room divider.
“Mac?”
“What do you want?”
“I’m sorry. I was an asshole.”
“Yep. You sure were.” Mac rolled around to face him. He made out his eyes and pouting lips in the soft light from the kitchen.
“You want some mac n’ cheese?”
The most frustrating thing about Gideon was how hard it was to stay mad at him. Mac wondered if he was the only person to have this problem. He ripped his blankets off. “Sure.”
A few minutes later, there they were, sitting on the couch, eating mac n’ cheese. Mac wasn’t even hungry, but he was going to finish his bowl.
“I’m sorry. I’m just still stressed about my family. It was like somebody threw a grenade on the dinner table, and I couldn’t save anyone.”
“Maybe that’s not your job right now,” Mac said. “You want to be the good son and the good brother, but sometimes it’s best not to take a side. This isn’t your battle.”
“But it’s my family. I didn’t even say goodbye to my brother when he left.”
There was something about the late night and the mac n’ cheese that made the flood gates open in Mac.
