Stacey jumped in, bless her. “And James, how’s your job? Still doing the graphic design thing?”
“It’s going well,” James said. “Just started a big project for a new client. We’ve got a meeting tomorrow to go over concepts for their rebrand.”
“That’s wonderful, honey.” Stacey beamed at him, and I saw Dad’s jaw tighten slightly. He’d never understood what James did for a living, always acted like it wasn’t a real job because he worked from home.
“Must be nice,” Dad said, his tone casual but with an edge to it. “Setting your own hours, working in your pajamas.”
“I don’t work in my pajamas,” James replied evenly.
“Well, whatever you wear. Point is, it’s not exactly a traditional career path.”
I felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. This was how it always went. Dad would make these little digs, and James would either ignore them or fire back, and the whole evening would spiral from there.
“It pays my bills,” James said, his voice tight. “And I’m good at it.”
“I’m not saying you’re not,” Dad continued, taking a sip of his wine. “Just seems like a lot of young people these days want the easy route. No structure, no real accountability.”
“That’s not fair,” Stacey interjected. “James works very hard.”
“I’m sure he does. I’m just making an observation.” Dad turned his attention to me. “Kent here, he understands the value of showing up somewhere every day, putting in the work. That’s how you build character.”
I wanted to sink through the floor. This wasn’t about work ethic and we all knew it. This was Dad’s way of taking shots at James without directly addressing what he really had a problem with.
“Dad,” I started, but James cut me off.
“You know what? I’m not doing this tonight.” James set down his fork. “If you have something to say to me, just say it. Don’t hide behind this passive-aggressive bullshit about my career.”
“James, language,” Stacey said weakly.
“I don’t appreciate that tone,” Dad said, his voice hardening. “I opened my home to you?—”
“This is Mom’s home too,” James shot back. “And last time I checked, I was invited here.”
The tension was suffocating. I looked down at my plate, wishing I’d never agreed to come.
“Fine,” Dad said, leaning back in his chair. “You want me to be direct? I think you’re making your life harder than it needs to be. All these choices you’re making… First you want to go to art school, then you’re not gonna work a real job, then you’re queer. And now you’re parading around with some guy named Trevor, acting like it’s something to be proud of.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Stacey looked like she might cry. James’s face had gone pale, then flushed red.
“There it is,” James said quietly. “There’s the real issue.”
Something inside me snapped. I don’t know if it was the look on James’s face, or the way Dad sat there so self-righteous,or the fact that I’d spent the last week living with James and seeing him as an actual person instead of just the stepbrother I’d tormented in high school for the exact same reasons my father did now. But whatever it was, I couldn’t stay silent.
“That’s enough,” I heard myself say.
Everyone turned to look at me.
“What?” Dad asked.
“I said that’s enough.” My heart was pounding. “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”
Dad’s expression shifted to confusion, then something darker. “Excuse me?”
“James hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just living his life. And yeah, I was an asshole to him about it too in the beginning, but I was wrong. And you’re wrong too.”
I could feel James staring at me, but I kept my eyes on Dad. If I looked at James now, I’d lose my nerve.
“Kent,” Dad said slowly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but?—”
