The late Julyafternoon was sweltering, the kind where the air seemed to stick to your skin. I was sitting in a small, stuffy room at Harmony House with James and his parents. The tension in the room was thicker than the humidity outside. James, a lanky sixteen-year-old with hair dyed a bright shade of blue, was on the verge of tears, his body rigid with anxiety. His parents were the epitome of stern, unyielding gazes and crossed arms.
I’d worked with families in crisis before, but there was something about James’s desperate gaze that struck a chord in me. It wasn’t myself I saw, but Danny. He’d always been the tender heart in the family, the one who wore his emotions on his sleeve. If our parents had done to him like the Davises had to James, it would have crushed him.
A week had passed since we’d called Mrs. Fisher, a local grandmotherly type who fostered kids short-term, to see if James could stay there for a night or two. At that point, we’d assumed Mr. Davis would cool down and realize what a flaming back of dicks he was being. Unfortunately, he was so high on himself he had no clue the damage he’d inflicted.
“I won’t allow this… this perversion to infect our entire family,” Mr. Davis’s voice boomed through the room. “We have two impressionable children at home who count on us to protect them.”
I clenched my jaw, fighting to keep my cool. “Mr. Davis, your son is the same person he’s always been. Understanding and accepting his sexuality is important for his well-being. Who’s supposed to protect him?”
“He has two options,” Mr. Davis spat, his face red. “Either he straightens his ways, or he finds someplace else to live. I won’t allow him to corrupt Sarah and Luke.”
My fists tightened in my lap. I glanced at Mrs. Davis, hoping for some sign of compassion, but her gaze was fixed on the floor, ever the obedient, submissive wife. Ugh. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost, because there were people who would help her if she worked up the courage to stand up to her husband the way a mother should.
“You don’t want to do this,” I found myself saying, my voice straining to remain calm. “Kicking your son out of his home for being who he is… that’s not something you come back from.”
“No one cares about a teenager getting kicked out for being gay when there are so many more worthy kids who need help,” Mr. Davis sneered.
That was the breaking point. I could feel the heat of my anger rising, but I fought it back, reminding myself this wasn’t about me, it was about James. I had to be strong for him.
“Every child deserves love and acceptance from their family, Mr. Davis,” I said, my voice low but firm. “And James is worthy. He’s smart, compassionate, and has a bright future ahead of him. You should be proud to call him your son.”
James was silently crying now. I wanted to reach out to him, to offer some comfort, but I needed to address his parents. And knowing the warped mind I was dealing with, Mr. Davis would probably march over to city hall to file a police report if I laid a hand on his son, even if only to comfort him.
“What he needs from you is love, understanding, and acceptance. That’s what families are for. To support each other through thick and thin,” I continued.
Mr. Davis leapt to his feet with a thunderous crash. His words sliced through the tense air like a knife. “This meeting is over! I’ve already explained what it will take for James to be allowed back into my home. Until then, there’s nothing more to discuss. If he insists on tearing our family apart this way, he’s no longer my son.”
A stunned silence followed as everyone watched him storm from the room. Even Mrs. Davis turned statue-still. As if realizing she was supposed to follow, she turned to James, mouthingI'm sorryas she scurried out.
As if her apology would do a damn thing to heal her child's pain. My heart ached after they left the room, leaving James behind.
When they were gone, I turned to James, who was now openly sobbing. I moved my chair next to his and put an arm around him.
“We’ll figure this out, James,” I whispered.
I spent the rest of the day making sure James was safe, arranging for him to stay with Mrs. Fisher another night or two. She explained that it couldn’t be more than two nights because she was packing to leave on her annual trip with her friends and couldn't cancel on them.
All the while, my mind kept drifting back to the look in his eyes and the cruelty of his parents.
By the time I left Harmony House, I felt overwhelmed, frustrated, and deeply saddened by what had just transpired.
I drove aimlessly for a while, trying to clear my head, and thinking of Michael and Henry waiting for me at home. Home. The thought both comforted and pained me. James didn’t have a home to go to anymore, not one where he was loved and accepted.
I finally picked up my phone and texted Michael.
I hate to do this again, but I’m not sure when I’ll be home.
James again?
Yeah. Need to sort out some shit. I’ll be there as quick as I can.
Take your time. Henry and I will hold down the fort.
Love you.
My jaw went slack as I stared at the screen, blinking hard to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating now. Because he knew me so well, another text quickly followed.
Yes, I meant it. Sorry to say it over text but figured you needed to hear it. You’re a good man and I’m honored to be yours.
