“How can you say that? You’re their dad…”
Damian’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “I was anything but a good dad.” That tidal wave of remorse surprising him, his head clearer, that comforting fog lifting. He felt the blood drain from his face, so he cleared his throat. “Khm… yes… better off without me, trust me. My daughter might even throw a party.” He grinned, but it was empty, his eyes drowned, and Gabe didn’t push, a bit scared. “And you? Nobody at home to mourn you?”
Gabe looked at him. “My parents… I mean, we don’t talk… not since my coming-out… but I guess they’ll be devastated, still… they never got it… I mean my dad had suspicions when I got accepted to that flight attendant course, but then I didn’t wait long either… so there… I had to leave, almost straight away… but I guess you know this… hating gays and all…” His heart raced when Damian looked at him.
“Hating gays?”
“I mean… it was pretty plain on board.”
Damian kept quiet, wondering how he had gotten that wrong, but didn’t want to venture down that buried road, so he just shrugged. “It’s not hate. It was more like teasing.”
“You were drunk.”
“Yes.” Admitting this when he had scarcely done it before, but it didn’t matter somehow anymore, not when only Gabe was around, and he knew.
“You’re an alcoholic.” Their eyes meeting.
Damian raised his hand. “Hold on… I got drunk sometimes, but I’m not an alcoholic.”
“But you are.” Watching that anger invade his face, but he braced himself, wanting to push him around.
“A couple of glasses a day don’t make you into an alcoholic.”
“A couple? How many?”
“Who counts those?! You’re tired, you go home, you deserve a drink or two… nothing wrong with that.”
“Right… Excuses. Again.”
“Not excuses. Facts.”
“You drank every day. You’re an alcoholic. Doesn’t matter if it’s one glass or twenty.”
“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”
“No.”
Damian had to laugh above that mounting wrath. “What the fuck… I don’t have to listen to this…”
“Did you have to listen to your wife? To your therapist? To your AA group? Mhm?”
Damian’s eyes grew wide. “This… how dare you… this is not your business!”
“Really? I had to watch you writhe through that fucking withdrawal, right? Nobody else! So it’s my business! And it’s not over! Your hands are trembling!”
Damian got to his feet, watching as Gabe did the same. “Fuck you!”
“You’re an alcoholic! Say it!”
“No!”
“Fucking lying piece of shit.” Facing him off, almost thinking he would launch at him, but Damian just backed a few steps, blanched.
“Stop it…” In any other case, he would have stormed out, but there was nowhere to go in that falling night, his whole body a block of pain, those tremors back. His lips trembled, feeling like collapsing under those hazel eyes.
“Say it, Damian.”
His name tipped him over, that soft way he’d said it, swiping his feet from under him as he went to his knees, burying his face in his hand. Tears running down his cheeks.
