And here I almost laugh at the irony of it all, because he should have been that strong male influence. I’d still be gay, but at least there wouldn’t be this chasm between us, this distrust born of not really knowing each other because we’ve hardly ever hung out one-on-one. Chris knocks his knee against mine, a reassuring gesture. His presence gives me the strength to continue.
“Dad, maybe we shouldn’t focus right now on what might have been. The reason I’m telling you this is because I want to be honest with you. And my sexuality aside, I’d like for us to have a relationship.”
Dad runs one hand through his thinning hair and smiles like the actor inAmerican Psycho. I never know what the hell that smile means. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to your grandmother, Theo. She’s not going to like this one bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if she revokes your trust fund money.”
I stare blankly at the gaping flat-screen TV. I should have known we’d get into trust fund territory sooner or later. For my dad, it seems his world revolves around money, and the trust fund has always been his bargaining chip. That carrot he’s always dangling just in front of my nose. And maybe because it’s always been a threat to take it away, I’ve never thought of it as mine, so in this moment, I honestly don’t give a shit about the Wooten Family Trust fund.
“I don’t really care about the trust fund, Dad.”
He looks offended by that. “Oh no? You think you’ll be able to afford college without it?”
I feel myself growing more and more despondent, retreating entirely from this conversation like I’m overhearing it from across the room, thinkingthat poor kid is screwed.
“I don’t know, Dad. I hope so.”
“You hope so,” he scoffs. “You think being queer is worth throwing your life away?”
“He’s not throwing anything away,” Chris says with a rumble in his voice. Only I know how much it’s killing him to stay calm. “He’s smart enough and works hard enough that he doesn’t need your money. You should be proud of him for that. I know I am.”
Chris puts a hand on my shoulder and I grab for it, smiling almost by accident. It reminds me of Uncle Theo’s face when he spoke of Manuel, that sweet, private happiness, contrasted with the despondency when he mentioned his own relationship with his father. Chris was right. There’s nothing I can say that will bring my dad around to my side. He has to want this too. Even knowing that, I try again.
“I came to you, Dad, because I wanted to tell you to your face that I’m gay before you hear it from someone else. It’s not going to go away, and you’re not going to be able to talk me out of it. Chris is my boyfriend. I love him. He’s also my best friend. I’d like for you to get to know him better and me as well, because I want us to have a relationship, and I hope after you’ve had some time to think about it, you’ll want that too.”
My dad stares at his flask, grumbling for, like, a minute. His phone rings, but he doesn’t answer it. All three of us listen to it ring while I count the seconds in my head, the most excruciating of awkward silences. Instead of feeling angry, I start to feel bad for him, this man who’s pushing fifty and sneaking drinks on a Sunday afternoon while his pregnant wife is upstairs, frustrated and unhappy. His phone quiets and nobody moves. I want him to say something.
“Maybe we should go,” Chris says, not trying to hide his disgust.
Even though my dad is weirdly silent, I want to give him the chance to respond. This is an opportunity to show me I mean something to him. His big chance. He takes a long swig from his flask and sighs heavily.
“You know, Theo?” He draws his finger along the edge of the entertainment system. “I’m not really sure what’s going on in your head. Tell you the truth, you always were a weird kid. I never could quite figure you out. I tried, kid, I really did, but the fact of the matter is, I just don’t have time for this. I admit I made some mistakes, with your mother and you and your sister both, but you’re practically an adult now. And me?” He shakes his head and plasters another one of those strange smiles on his face. “I’ve got another kid on the way. You realize I’m going to be in my sixties by the time that kid is eighteen? Jesus.” He squints at the sliding glass doors that lead to their in-ground pool and screened-in patio.
“So you want to be a queer,” he continues. “Go on and be a queer. Good luck to you. As for me….” He shrugs. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.” He tilts the flask back all the way so it goes completely vertical, then caps it and places it back into the VHS case.
My father’s an empty box. I wonder if he was always like this or if life has sucked the good stuff away. For me, I’m in a bit like a free fall—my father doesn’t care enough to even pretend to try. Maybe he’s been pretending this whole time by trying to fill a role he was never interested in the first place.
I stand so that we’re eye to eye. I wish I knew the magic words that would bring him around, something I could harken back to that would bind him to me, some great father-son memory to make him want to put in the effort to accept me and maybe even get to know me better, but I don’t have it, and even my desire to do so is dwindling. Maybe I’ve always wanted more from him than he could give and in his own way, that’s what he’s telling me now.
“Listen,” I say, “don’t punish Tabitha for this. She needs you and wants to be part of your and Susan’s family. She’s really excited about the new baby, and it would crush her if you cut her out of your life.”
Dad clears his throat, frowns, and studies me for a moment. He nods once and holds out his hand. I take it, and he gives it one hard pump. “It’s too bad it had to be this way,” he says like it’s completely out of his control. I’m a deal gone bad. I’m guessing it’s partly an apology, but mostly it’s a goodbye.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I tell him. “This is a choice you’re making.”
My dad’s mouth forms a grim line. He lets go of my hand and walks out to the patio, shutting the glass door behind him. He must not want me to follow him. I turn blindly to find Chris’s arms. I lean my head on his shoulder and he rubs my back, whispering encouragement into my ear, most of which I don’t hear because I’m overwhelmed with the finality of it all.
I could say it’s my dad’s loss, but I know it’s mine too.
BIFFLE
“YOU CANcry if it’ll make you feel better,” Chris says. His arms are wrapped around me and my face is buried in his neck where we stand in the middle of my dad’s driveway. I think of Uncle Theo just hours ago in this same warm and comforting embrace. What a treasure.
I take a deep breath and release it into his skin. I feel strangely empty. Maybe the tears will come later, but for now I mainly just want to get the hell out of here and go home.
As we break apart, Chris grabs my hand. “I’m really proud of you, T. That took a lot of guts.”
I tear up then, a little bit, not really because of my dad, but because Chris has always been there for me—after every shitty visit with my dad, every argument, every rejection. He’s been the constant in my life, my role model, and my best friend. “Thanks, Chris.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed it.”
