Page 22 of The Story of You

Darius, who could always read a room better than most adults, either wasn’t paying attention that night or was living in denial. He busted out with, “Don’t worry, Mama. Silas is just bummed he won’t get to see his boyfriend at school. He’ll live. Can I get a bird? I want a parrot.”

I had permission to date. I’d already had a boyfriend and then a girlfriend and then another boyfriend within a one-and-a-half-year span. I’d seen some people in between. I was part of the cool crowd and getting dates wasn’t hard. Cliff wasn’t a secret per se, but the same whispers that told me not to leave Oliver alone with Father said not to mention Cliff.

Father wiped the sides of his mouth with his napkin. “Is that true, Silas? You have a boyfriend?”

“What? No. Well not really. Just a guy from school, Cliff. We hang out sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, it does, I saw you kissing him,” Darius said. He wasn’t trying to start something even though it did. He was just being a little brother. Little brothers do annoying shit like that.

“Is that true?” Father said.

My cheeks heated. “Yeah. We kissed. I guess we’re sort of a thing but not boyfriends.”

“Where’s Oliver when you’re kissing this boy?” Father asked.

“He’s right beside me. I have my eyes on him the whole time. I swear it.”

Father sipped his wine, considering me coolly. If his praise was sunshine, his coldness was icy-black, moonless night. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. But you’ll have to end it.”

That annoyed me. “Why?”

“I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. You have a child to look after.”

Darius looked like a ticking time bomb about to go off, but I was the one who did. “Are you kidding me? He’s your goddamn child. You should be looking after him.” I didn’t even mean it. Not how it came out anyway, but both statements were true.

His fork clattered to his plate. “I won’t be spoken to this way in my home. Go to your room.”

Mama was horrified because I’d just confirmed all her fears and insecurities. Darius saw where he fucked up and mouthed the words, “I’m so fucking, sorry.”

I got up and moved to pull Oliver into my arms. He smiled and his cute little hands grabbed for me.

“No, leave Oliver here.”

My heart rate quickened. “B-But who will look after him?”

“I will. Didn’t you just say he was mine to look after?”

A terrible sensation moved across my skin. No. That couldn’t happen and I didn’t like his claim on Oliver. It had already happened; I no longer wanted Oliver to be anything other than mine. “Please, let me take him? I’m sorry. You’re right. I never should have spoken out to you, sir. I apologize.”

“Go.Now.”

It wasn’t in me then to disobey my father. I’m not sure I could do it now. I looked to Darius who nodded, and I took it to mean he’d watch over Oliver. Walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs was hard. I lay on my bed, knots of anxiety curling in my gut, listening for any signs of my babe down below. How could I have been so stupid?

Nothing was more important than Oliver. Nothing. Who cared about school? Who cared about dating? Oliver needed me. My priorities became further solidified.

Eventually, I heard Oliver cry his hungry cry. It seemed to take forever. My heart raced the whole time.Never again, Randall. You’ll do what he says.He’s your father for Chrissake.

The crying stopped. It was almost too quiet. Cell phones would have been helpful back then. I wished for some way I could get a message to Darius so he could at least tell me what was going on. I was forced to pace my room, a ball of nervous anxiety, imagining the worst.

It was dark when he finally came up to my room. “Take your pants off. Boxers down,” he said as he took off his belt.

I pulled my jeans down and moved to pull down my boxers. “No, I said off. Take your jeans off. Then pull your boxers down.”

I did as he told me, hoping that if I obeyed him, he’d give me Oliver back.

I laid face down on the bed and waited with my ass bare and in the air with my boxers pooled around my ankles. It seemed to take a while for him to do anything. I continued to wait, muscles coiled with tension and fear.

“Your mother is still sick, Silas. Your social life means very little compared to that, do you understand?”