“She was right about me being a shit father, too. Things between Colton and I started falling apart. He used to be my best buddy when he was younger, but about three years ago, he started pulling away. Favoring Miranda more. Even he was telling me I wouldn’t ever understand him, but it feels like he never even gave me a chance! After Miranda passed, he totally gave me the cold shoulder.”
Every part of me wants to console Evan by telling him what I believereallycaused the rift wasn’t because he's carrying on bitterness from his mother. No, the catalyst was likely that Colton discovered his sexuality and doesn’t feel like his dad would understand. I get why he would feel like that, given the way Evan just lashed out—denying his own sexuality.
But the two—father and son—aren’t so dissimilar. I can’t even tell Evan that, though, because of patient privilege. Waters that I have now muddied so terribly, by having a weak moment hours ago. Waters that, despite knowing I shouldn’t, I can’t help but want to muck up even more, because I just want to help Evan too. He needs it just as badly as Colton.
Instead, I try a different route, urging him to sit back down again. Surprisingly, he does, so I sit back down across from him and lean in. “When was the last time you considered yourself truly happy, Evan?”
“I don’t even know…” he replies, voice gravelly. “Probably the day Colt said he wanted to learn how to ride my Harley, so he could be just like me someday. We were having an awesome time. He wanted to go to the batting cages for once; said he wanted to learn how to hit grand slams like his dad used to,” he adds, with a hint of wistfulness in his expression.
Oh boy, you havenoidea how alike youboth are…
Then his expression sours again, when he continues, “I had always played in high school, and he seemed like he wanted to as well, before his grandfather and his uncle convinced himfootballwas the superior sport, becausetheyplayed that instead. Apparently, liking a sport that didn’t involve fucking hurling yourself into another player wasn’t ‘manly’ enough. Christ, they acted as if I were acheerleaderor something equally girly, just for playing baseball. You ever get hit in the cup with a fastball? It’ll test your manhood… real quick.”
I can feel my cheeks feeling flush again. “No, I never got hit with a fastball. I was a cheerleader in high school, though. Pretty sure I’m still a man, last time I checked.” I look down at my lap. “Yep. The parts are all still there.”
His eyes go wide. “I’m so sorry I blurted that out. Fuuuuck, Brooks, I didn’t mean to offend—”
I place my hand over his, cutting him off, and I feel him tense below me, but he doesn’t shrug me off. “Evan, it’s nothing I haven’t encountered before. I may not have much of a spine, but I do have thick skin. I’ve heard it all. My mothers being lesbians turned me gay. I’m queer, so of course I enjoysissysports like cheerleading. Which, by the way, those stunts arenotfor sissies, just sayin…”
That gets his lips to tip up a little bit.
“But it does get better, I swear. The more real to yourself you are, the more you accept yourself, and the better it becomes. You start not to give a rat’s behind about what others think. And what do you think would happen if you were to explore your sexuality, so that you could be a more authentic you? How do you think Colton would feel about that?”
“He’d be pissed at me. He’d be embarrassed.”
“Do youreallythink your son would be mad at you for being attracted to other men—something you can’t help? He’d despise you for something biologically woven into you?”
“Healreadyhates me,” Evan replies.
“I don’t think that’s true. It seems to me an awful lot like he seeks your attention, with the vandalism and stuff. When teenagers like him seek attention, they do whatever it takes, even if it’s negative. What they’re truly looking for is approval, which also means you matter to them. I don’t truly think he’d want you to spend the rest of your days alone and miserable. I think he’d want you to be happy.”
He scoffs. “You don’t know that. You barely know either of us.”
“Idoknow what it’s like to be the single parent of a teenager who’s lost another parent, though. You don’t think Morgan doesn't go through rebellious phases? She totally does. Yearly, as a matter of fact. I’ve learned they tend to happen right around Mother’s Day, Ryann’s birthday, and on the anniversary of her mother’s death. Those are the times when I forgo having my own pity-party over the events where I miss my sister the most, and shower Morgs with even more love and attention. I show her that I’ll be there for her, even when she’s being a total numb-nugget.
“Deep down, though, I know she still wants what’s best for me. She reminds me all the time that she’s annoyed with me for not putting myself first and going out more. She’s actively trying to save up enough to get a car so she can go out and be more independent, so I can make that time for myself. I know the root cause of my daily doldrums; I’m too busy to go do all that. I know I’ll get there someday though, and then I’ll be wishing I had her back again—so I won’t be a lonely cat-dad.” I chuckle wryly.
“You deserve more than that,” Evan tells me.
“What makes you think I deserve happiness more than you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly. There isn’t a reason in the world why I deserve to be happy and fulfilled, and you don’t,” I say, sitting back and crossing my legs, like a lawyer who’s just slammed shut their case.
Only, I think I just opened up a new file by saying that, because now I see how I can help here. I have a spur-of-the-moment idea. It would mean that I’d have to bend some rules though, but at this juncture, I really can’t see any other way to do it.
I could totally get him to accept his sexuality by letting him explore a little. He can hopefully go back home feeling brave enough to admit that he’s attracted to men. He’s helped me out so much already, it’s time I return the favor. Perhaps being a tool he can use to be more open will give me a sense of personal purpose, unrelated to my current obligations.
I can help him feel comfortable being seen, and the next man who he finds himself lusting after won’t be burdened with helping him through his awakening. Like a sexuality coach or something. Maybe just someone who can help be the catalyst to get him back into the dating world more authentically.
Would I prefer it be with me? Absolutely. But I’m nothing if not a realist. His tenure here has a time limit. He has a home to get back to and a life to live once this summer is over. I’m far too busy to even entertain a relationship, much less anything long-distance, but I can at least get Evan primed and ready for one.
Cripes, I think I just likened myself to a butt-plug.
I lean forward again. “Internalized homophobia,” I say bluntly.
Evan cocks an eyebrow up at me.
