I look at my watch. “You still have a few minutes before you need to leave, right?”
Jay looks ready to smack me. Aaron looks concerned. “Yeah, why?”
“Well, I just realized why you were so sweaty when you answered the door. So, I hope you have enough time to, er, finish what I interrupted.”
Aaron rolls his face almost directly into Jay’s armpit to cover his blush. Jay gives me a very pointed look and slams the door, but I can hear them laughing as I walk away.
I wonder if Ms. Delia’s “gaydar” would have picked up on all the obvious affection that I missed before.
I don’t waste time packing a bag and head straight out to my car. I exit the stairwell that I may have taken on purpose for luck, and run into my father about to get on the elevator.
“Lincoln,” he calls, stopping the elevator doors from closing and preventing my best chance at pretending I didn’t hear or see him.
“Father,” I say, the stiff greeting all I’m capable of at the moment. “Can I help you? I’m actually on my way out.”
“Are you headed home, then?”
“Uh…” I flinch before I can stop myself. He hates it when I stumble over my speech. He always says it makes me sound weak and unintelligent. Not wanting to let him think that’s the case, I straighten my spine and answer more confidently. “No, actually.”
“Since when are you not coming home for Christmas? Your mother will be very disappointed.”
I’m pretty sure my mother doesn’t actually notice if I’m there or not. She gave birth to me, but I’m pretty sure she never wanted to be a parent. I don’t say as much, though. I don’t want him to think this is a negotiation.
“I have other plans. But thank you for the invitation,” I say, as if he asked me to do anything and didn’t just expect me to read his mind and fall in line. I’m sure if I’d showed up yesterday, he would have been disappointed that I didn’t let him know I was coming. Today he’s expecting that I would have already been there.
He made you feel inferior, so you’d never consider rising above him.
The more I replay Ms. Delia’s take on my father, the more I think she might be right.
“Where is it that you think you are going?”
“To visit a friend.”
“What friend?”
“Brody Miller, you remember him, right? He’s actually a really great guy. We’ve gotten quite close this semester.” I let my tone set the stage for whatever insinuations he’d like to make.
The expression on my father’s face used to make me feel two inches tall, but for the first time, I realize I’m actually two inches taller than him. A strength I play into, elongating my spine and taking a step closer, accentuating and exploiting whatever I have over him. Just like he taught me.
“You cannot be serious.”
“I’m extremely serious.”
I start walking, not at all surprised when my father stops me again.
“You won’t tarnish my good name by?—”
“By what, father? Being gay?”
If glares could burn, I’d be ash, but I’m surprised to find that his expression can’t hurt me after all.
“I don’t need your acceptance. I don’t need your name. I don’t need your money.” I look at him dead on. “I don’t needyou.”
I start walking again, this time not stopping when he calls out again.
“That boy is beneath you!”
Plastering my best Brody Miller smirk on my face, I turn and walk backwards so I can see his face and he can see mine. I don’twant him to mistake my words for anything other than exactly what they are. Acceptance of myself.
