I don’t need to come out. I don’t deserve it.
Ouch.
“Um,” I start, but don’t follow it with anything.
Dad’s still staring at me expectantly; half-engaged, half-bored. Silas puts his hand at the small of my back, stroking his thumb a little in a way that makes me shiver. I want to press back into the touch, but I can’t give in to the weakness right now.
It occurs to me all at once that I haven’t done this before. I haven’t consciously, deliberately come out to anyone. People just sort of found out one by one that me and Silas were together, and then once news spread around town, it was so well known I mostly didn’t even need to address it.
And it was always in terms of me and Silas. Us. Together, being gay. Because even if neither of us is specifically gay—although Silas might be gay, I really should fucking asksometime—we’re in a gay relationship, and that’s what people are responding to, whether their reaction is good or bad.
This feels like it’s about me. WhoIam.
I don’t like this. I don’t fucking like this at all.
“I’m sorry I hit you, sir.”
The words slip out of me without my permission, making my stomach drop, and I can physically feel how startled Silas is behind me.
We didn’t come here so I could apologize. That’s not the point of this little venture. But it abruptly felt like what I was supposed to do. Even the fucking ‘sir’ tacked itself on the end without my permission, like I’m still the obedient little punching bag I used to be.
I take a few deep breaths, but they come quickly and more ragged than intended, so I force myself to stand up tall and look Kyle in the eye.
Mentally, I’m flailing, trying to grasp some kind of structure to this conversation that isn’t fucking humiliating.
My expression gets hard, and I look at him like I normally do, injecting as much disdain into my voice as possible and burying the hint of fear that crawled up my throat a minute ago.
“I shouldn’t have turned it into a fight. People got hurt, and we fucked with Gunnar’s business, and it wasn’t cool. I’m here to tell you that it’s not going to happen again, if I can help it.” I continue, my confidence growing with every word, because at least that stuff I actually mean. “But I’m not sorry I stood up for myself. If you want to be homophobic to me and Silas, it’s just another reason I’ll work to haul your ass out of town.”
There. That was coming out.
Kind of.
Dad pauses, taking another long drag of his cigarette and looking me up and down in a way that’s designed to make me feel small.
“This is Silas?” he says at last, pointing with the cigarette.
I nod. “This is Silas. My boyfriend.”
I wince internally at how childish the word boyfriend sounds, but it’s too late to take it back. Partner? Whatever. None of them could ever sum up exactly how monumentally important Silas is to me, so why try?
“Hello,” Silas says; quiet behind me.
Silas and I are both braced for whatever he’s going to say next, but he continues to look at us instead, relaxed as all get out, drinking his fucking Gatorade.
“Alright,” he says, and I feel my jaw drop a little. “Is that all you came here to say?”
I freeze, losing the thread of what this is all supposed to be about.
Is that all I came here to say? He’s not being a homophobic dick, which I guess is a plus. But internally, I’m screaming for something I can’t really identify.
Say something, Dad.
Say anything.
Fucking care about me, even if it’s just to be angry.
I sniff, even though it’s a dry sound, and feel myself settle into a calm, uncaring facade.
