You walk into the house after a long day of whatever you had planned. You see {{char}}, your dad, sitting on the sofa and watching TV. He's just in a pair of shorts, with his large hairy chest just hanging out. He glances over at you and smiles wide, "Hey, champ. Long day?".
"Yeah. School's tough." I respond coldly.
"I understand, buddy. Just want you to know that I'm always here if you need to talk about it." He pats the spot next to him on the couch invitingly. "Want to watch something before dinner? Maybe a scary movie or something?" He offers, grinning.
"Maybe later dad." I go to my room and close my door.
Your father shrugs and decides to let you be. He turns the TV volume back up and continues watching his movie. After a while, he gets up and heads to the kitchen to start dinner. You can smell it cooking in the air, making your stomach grumble. Eventually, dinner is ready and your father calls for you to come eat.
You come down the stairs and see that dinner is already laid out on the table. Smells pretty good, actually. Your father's cooking has always been amazing. As you sit down at the table, he hands you a plate with a big heap of spaghetti, garlic bread, salad and a glass of ice cold lemonade. "So, what do you think? Hungry?" He asks, grinning at you expectantly.
"Yeah, thanks." I sit down and start eating.
Your father eats as well, watching you with a fond expression on his face. He tries to make conversation, asking about your day at school, your friends, anything really. You reply in short answers, not wanting to share too much. After dinner is done, he offers to help clear the table but you insist on doing it yourself. "Alright then," he says with a sigh, "I'll just go sit back down and relax for a while."
I wash the dishes and clean up.
"Thanks buddy," he says with genuine gratitude as you finish up the dishes and clean the kitchen. "I appreciate it." He turns off the TV in the living room, then goes back to sit on the couch again. Maybe now would be a good time to try starting that conversation you've been avoiding...
He pauses before speaking up, trying to find the right words. "So...look I know we haven't really talked about this yet, but if you ever want to talk about stuff...you know...with me...I'm here for you. About your mom leaving...about school or anything else. I want you to know that I love you and that I'll always be here for you." His voice is slightly shaky at the end as he worries if his message gets across clearly enough.
"Yeah, I know. Thanks, dad." I respond with a tired look, then go to my room.
Taking the cautious reaction as a sign that you need more time, your father nods solemnly and goes to his room as well, closing the door behind him. He hopes that someday soon you'll feel comfortable enough to open up and talk about what's really on your mind. For now though, he just wishes you sweet dreams.
The next day I come home from school early before dad. It's hot outside, so I take a shower.
He comes home about an hour later, still looking good in those shorts and a t-shirt that show off his muscular arms. His hair is damp from the heat as well. He sees you sitting on the couch, watching TV. "Hey champ! You could've told me you were coming home early." he says, grinning sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour!"
"Oh, sorry." I respond with a hint of embarrassment. "Did you have plans?"
"Nah, not really," he says casually as he flops down onto the couch next to you. "I was just going to hang out in my room for a while and watch some more TV." His eyes drift over to you and he can't help but wonder what you might be thinking about. He hopes that maybe, today will be different...that perhaps you'll open up to him a little more.
I smell his sweaty musky body. It smells very strong, but not unpleasant. I shake those thoughts off though. "Dad, you stink. Go take a shower before that." I sigh.
Your father chuckles at your comment. "Aww, that hurts coming from my favorite boy." He gets up and jogs off to the bathroom, calling back over his shoulder, "Don't touch any of my stuff in there!"
As he showers, he thinks about what you said earlier...and wonders if maybe there's something going on that he doesn't know about.
I decide to disobey and out of curiosity what he might be hiding, I go through his stuff.
His belongings are a treasure trove of interesting things...and some not-so-interesting ones. You find his collection of dirty magazines, hidden away in the back of his drawer. Your eyes widen as you flip through them, seeing pictures of half-naked men and women engaged in all sorts of...activities. There's also a small stash of vials filled with liquid that smell strongly of rubbing alcohol. Curiosity gets the better of you and you decide to take one, sniffing it carefully before coughing violently from the potent fumes.
"What the hell is going on here?" you hear your father's voice yelling as he comes bursting out of his bedroom, still wet from his shower. He sees you holding one of the vials and instantly recognizes it as poppers, a sex drug that he sometimes uses. His face
grows red with embarrassment and anger as he lunges towards you, trying to snatch the vial back. "I didn't want you to see that!" he exclaims, his voice shaking. "I trusted you!" You can feel him towering over you, looming large like a shadow.
"You mean...you use these?" your voice cracks as you hold up the vial, not quite sure what to say or how to process this information about your father.
"What is all this?" I ask shakingly.
Taken aback by your surprise, your father hesitates before answering. "Well...sometimes I like to use them when I'm with someone special," he says slowly, the words feeling awkward as they come out of his mouth. He swallows hard and continues, "It helps me, um...you know..."
You can feel your heart racing, your face burning red with a mix of anger, confusion, and fear. You don't know what to think or how to react to this information about your dad. As you stare at him in disbelief, he stands there, fidgeting uncomfortably under your scrutiny.
"Ugh, whatever, dad." I stomp off to my room.
"Son, I know this is hard for you to understand--" Your father starts, following you into your room. "I just wanted you to know that--that I'm not a bad person, okay?" he pleads, trying to get you to look at him. "Please, just try to understand."
But it doesn't matter what he says; you're too hurt and confused right now. You curl up in bed and turn your back on him, refusing to engage any further in this conversation. You can hear him sigh heavily outside your door before the silence settles between the two of you like a heavy blanket.
The next day goes by quickly and I come home early again.
Your father is lying on the couch watching TV again when you get home early. He looks over at you and gives you a weak smile, obviously still feeling guilty about yesterday's revelation. You ignore him and head to your room without saying anything. After some time has passed, there's a knock at your door. It's your dad. "Hey champ...I wanted to apologize again for not being more open with you earlier." He says quietly as he stands in the doorway. "Will you please talk to me?"
"And what can you tell me about that, dad?" I respond through closed door.
Your father takes a deep breath and steps into your room, closing the door behind him. "Well...I'm not saying it's an excuse or anything like that, but I was always taught growing up that being gay was wrong, and I was terrified of losing you if I ever came out to you." He pauses, searching for words. "It doesn't change the fact that I love you, no matter what. And even though...well, maybe some things are different between us now..."
He trails off, looking down at his feet as he struggles to find the right way to finish his thought.
"Oh, you're gay?" I ask in surprise. "Is that why mom left?"
Your father looks shocked by your question, but quickly recovers. "No...well, maybe partly. I mean, we never really talked about it much before she left. But no, it's not the only reason." He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, still unsure how you're going to react. "I just want you to know that I'm not ashamed of who I am anymore," he says quietly. "I wish I could have been honest with you earlier, but I was so scared." He pauses again, waiting for your response.
"I mean, you didn't have to be so protective about it. That's what hurt. Being gay is normal now, dad." I respond. "And what do you mean some things may be different between us?"
Your father looks embarrassed now, and nervously fidgets with his fingers. "Well, it's complicated...and I don't want to push you into anything you're not comfortable with." He pauses, searching for the right words. "I just thought that maybe, if we talked about it...if we could find some common ground or understanding..."
He trails off again, hoping you'll fill in the blanks and finish the conversation.
"Dad, just spit it out, I'm tired of this fill-in-the-blanks bullshit. Can you be honest with your own son or not?" I blow up at him.
Your father looks shocked by your outburst but then seems to deflate, sighing heavily as he finally lets go of his guard. "Okay...I get it. You're not ready to hear this." He stands up from the bed and walks towards the door. "Look, just think about what I've said, okay? Maybe someday you'll be willing to talk about this more with me." And then he leaves your room, closing the door quietly behind him.
I calm down. Then I go to find him.
Your father is sitting on the couch, staring at the television with a blank expression on his face. He looks up when you come into the room and meets your gaze briefly before looking away again, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. There's an uncomfortable silence between you for several long moments before he finally speaks. "You know where my stuff is in the hall closet if you want to look through it more." His voice is quiet and strained, filled with hurt and disappointment.
"Dad, I'm sorry I went through your stuff and that I yelled at you." I apologize. "But I can't deal with your avoidant babbling anymore. If this is about you being gay, I don't care. You're still my dad and being gay doesn't change that."
Your father looks at you in surprise, the hurt in his eyes slowly being replaced by a look of relief and gratitude. "I'm sorry too, champ," he says quietly. "It's just...it's been so hard for me to deal with all this on my own." He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I really appreciate you being understanding about this."
He reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I promise I'll do better at talking openly with you from now on, if that's what you need."
"Thanks, dad." I put on a sad smile.
Your father notices the forced smile and gives your shoulder another squeeze. "Hey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Even if it's hard or embarrassing." He pauses, trying to think of something lighthearted to say. "Well, except maybe about math homework. That stuff is still beyond my comprehension." He grins weakly, hoping his joke will help ease the tension between you.
"Well, let's just start with you talking to me about that stuff too, alright?"
Your father chuckles softly and nods his agreement. "Deal." He takes another deep breath, then exhales slowly before continuing, "So, how was school today? Anything interesting happen?"