I never saw tattoos, or bleached hair.
I never saw muscles and baggy clothes.
And I sure as hell never saw a man standing beside me.
But that’s the most ironic part of all. There’s never been a version of me that was exactly what my mother wanted. It’s why,after fourteen years, she tried again. And it’s why she needs Carey here.
I never gave her what she wanted.
She’s never told me she was proud. Not once in thirty-four years.
I’ve never been enough.
I used to think the tattoos were part of the rebellion, but now they feel more like a confession. Whether I’m covered in ink, or another sweatsuit, I can’t hide who I am. Not from him.
I catch movement in the faint reflection then hear slippers scuffing.
The moment he walked into the shop he saw me, and he hasn’t stopped looking.
I take another swig of liquor, and it burns because lemongrass soju tastes like shit.
Passing him the bottle, Carey takes it from me and finishes it.
“The table’s cleared. We’re gonna do presents when your parents are finished in the kitchen.”
“You’re an asshole for all of that,” I tell him, ignoring what he said.
He rests his head on my shoulder. “You love it.”
“You’ll be dead by the end of the week.”
“We don’t have to stay,” he says softly.
I remain staring out the window. “I do.”
I uncross my arms, and as the back of Carey’s hand brushes against mine, he says, “I didn’t get them anything.”
“They don’t deserve it.”
“They don’t deserve you.”
I seek out his pinky and wrap mine around it.
I want to tell him I’m falling for him.
I want to kiss him and show my reflection who I really am.
I want the strength to walk into the kitchen with his hand in mine, tell my parents I’m the man he met, and that if they don’tlike it then we just shared our last Christmas lunch… But I take my hand back, and point down towards the water. “See that house down there? The one with the pool?”
“With the detached garage?”
“Yeah.”
“What about it?”
“That’s Shawn’s parent’s house.”
“So?”
