Page 33 of Up In Flames

Will

M y life was a fever dream. I’d gone from being in the closet, single, achingly lonely, to moving my boyfriend into my apartment. Something I wanted to do after I’d told my parents about us. Oren understood my reasoning.

All my adult life, I’d hidden a fundamental part of myself from my parents. I’d lied and misdirected and done everything I could to keep my secret safe. But meeting Oren had changed all that. My secret had become an unbearable burden to me in the end.

At first, I kept my sexuality to myself as a form of protection. Self-care. Self-preservation. But as I got older and moved out of the house, gained my independence, made friends and built a career, I should have trusted in the people I surrounded myself with.

“Are you sure you want to go alone?” Oren asked me. He’d taken a few days off work to finish recovering from his migraine, and once he’d been feeling well enough to get out and about, he packed a bag, and we came to my apartment.

To my surprise, he’d started taking the elevator in his building again. His determination to conquer his fears endeared me to him even more. If Oren could do shit that scared him, so could I.

“This conversation is long overdue. I’m trying to keep a positive attitude, but I know not everyone will be like Briggs and Jonas.”

“They're your parents. They love you.” Oren wound his arms around my neck and kissed me. “I love you. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

I decided not to argue with him. “What are you going to do while I’m gone?”

“Sit by the phone and pine for you, mostly.” He shot me a cheeky grin. “I’m going to call Liam and catch up.”

Oren stole another kiss and untangled himself from me. “You’re going to be late.”

“I won’t be long.”

He shook his head. “You’ll be as long as you need to be. My head is fine, Doctor Dorsey. I’m going to hang out and call Liam and probably raid the fridge for leftovers in a bit. Now get going.” Oren escorted me to the front door and snagged another kiss. “I’ll meet the parents soon, okay?”

I kissed Oren one more time, wishing that I could bring him with me, but it was hardly fair to ask that of him.

They were my parents and if shit went sideways, I didn’t want him to get caught in the crossfire.

I also had to know that I could do it. That I could tell people.

Had Briggs been a one-off? A sudden, lone rush of bravery that allowed me to be open just one time?

The drive to my parents felt like it took forever, but yet still not long enough. Walking up the driveway felt like I was walking toward the gallows, but then the door swung open, and my mom was there, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“Will, darling, I thought I saw you pull up.”

Climbing up the steps, I pulled Mom into a hug, surprising us both. Hugs were generally reserved for Christmas and maybe a birthday now and then. We weren’t the most physically affectionate family, but I wanted to have that memory.

Oren would kick my ass if he were here. I tried to be hopeful, but my brain kept dragging out the worst-case scenarios.

“Everything okay?” Mom asked when I let her go. Her smile was still present, but she had a hint of worry in her expression, a tightness around her eyes that gave her apprehension away.

“Everything’s fine. Where’s Dad?”

“Unboxing dinner, hiding the containers. He wants to see if he can fool you into thinking we cooked.” Mom whispered their secret to me.

“Well, whatever you cooked, it smells amazing.”

Mom patted my cheek. “You’re a good boy. Your father has been planning this joke all week.”

“I’ll be sure not to spoil his fun.”

“Thank you.” She waved me toward the kitchen. “Honey, Will is here.”

Dad poked his head out of the kitchen. “Will! Good to see you, kid.”

He exited the kitchen looking a little flushed. His mouth wore a permanent smirk that he was sure he could keep hidden from us, but after a lifetime of Dad trying to get one over on me, it was easy to read the signs.

“It smells good in here.” I started for the kitchen, but Dad stepped into my path. “The kitchen is a bit of a disaster. How about you and your mother have a seat in the dining room, and I’ll bring dinner in a second.”

“I don’t mind helping.” I tried to step around him, but he blocked my path.

“You’re always doing stuff for us. Go sit, I’ve got this.”

“So long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Dad gently steered me toward Mom, who was a far better actor than he was. “Two minutes. I need two minutes.”

With my back to Dad, I shot Mom a grin, and we slipped into the dining room.

“You’re so mean,” Mom whispered. “Making him think you were going to ruin his fun.”

“I had to stay in character. Any other day, I’d have tried to help.”

Dad came into the dining room a moment later carrying a dish filled to the brim with fettuccini alfredo. He set it on the table with a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll be right back.”

I shared a look with Mom, who put her poker face back on, and waited for Dad to return. He returned with a tray loaded down with ribs and garlic bread. I don’t know who he was trying to fool, but even if I hadn’t been in on the joke, I knew that there was no way he’d have made all that.

“Wow, you really went all out. This must have cost a mint.” I started serving myself some of the pasta.

Dad puffed up his chest. “Actually, I cooked it.”

I paused in midair, tongs poised over the ribs. “Like… by yourself?”

“Yes, you… of course by myself. Did you see yourself in the kitchen helping me?”

“Well I’m sure it’s great.” I gave Dad a tight, polite smile. His lips twitched, but I kept myself from giving away the game.

“The ribs look so good.” I dropped a couple on my plate and took a slice of garlic bread to go with it.

I waited for Mom and Dad to serve themselves before I tucked in, taking a bite. Dad’s eyes were on me, watching me, waiting to see what I’d say.

“Wow. This is actually really good.” I made a show of stabbing my fork into my pile of noodles and twisting up another bite onto my fork. “Could you show me how you made the sauce for this? I can never get mine just right.”

“I—ah, well, I’m a disaster in the kitchen. You know this. I’m not even sure I know what I did.”

“We’ll have to figure it out together.” I shoveled another bite into my mouth. If I didn’t think moaning at the table would have given me away, I might have.

“You should try the ribs,” Mom prodded me. “They’re so tender.”

Setting my fork down, I grabbed a rib and took a bite. They were fall-off-the-bone tender. The meat was so juicy I moaned around a bite. “Holy shit, Dad. You’re cooking every time now. I quit. Why am I eating my food when you cook like this?”

“I’m glad you like it, son.” Dad bit into a chunk of garlic bread to hide his satisfaction.

Everyone was in a good mood. It was the perfect chance to tell them. I set my rib bone on my plate when I was done with it and after wiping my hands on a napkin, I picked up my fork and twirled it around a bite of noodles I couldn’t force myself to take.

“There’s something I need to talk to both of you about.” The serious edge to my voice had my parents exchanging worried glances. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to blurt it out and then I’ll let you guys ask questions or whatever.”

“Will?” Mom set her fork down. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” My leg bounced up and down and I had to put my hand on my knee to force it to quit. “I should have told you a long time ago.”

Silence. This was it. The last moment I’d have with them not knowing about me.

“Will, you’re scaring us.” Dad’s voice cut through my apprehension.

“Remember when I said I met someone? Well, it’s kind of serious.”

Their faces lit up and I tried not to picture what they must be thinking. Big church wedding and grandbabies. Two point five kids and a white picket fence. I raised my hand to still the questions I could see they were ready to rattle off to me.

“I haven’t told you the most important thing, though.

I haven’t told you…” I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself to look them in the eyes.

“I’m gay. I’ve been gay my whole life. I—I’m sorry for lying to you about it, but I never knew how to tell you.

And then I figured if I wasn’t with anyone, what did it matter?

I never meant to lie to you, and if I didn’t love Oren so much, I might have just kept on not telling you, but I do.

I love him, and I love the both of you and?—”

“William.” Dad cut in on my unhinged rambling. He reached across the table and put his hand on my hand. “Take a breath, son. Breathe in nice and deep for me. Nice and slow. Then let it out.”

When my shoulders relaxed a bit, Dad smiled at me. “Better?” he asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“You said we could ask questions,” Mom said, her voice small and her brow furrowed. Troubled.

I nodded because I couldn’t speak. I had to save my words for the answers they wanted.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“There are a million answers to that question. I never meant to hurt you by keeping it from you, but I had to protect myself. I know your church and stuff is important to you, and I know it hurt you when I stopped going. I guess I didn’t want to add to that.”

“Is that why you stopped? Will, honey… Did someone there say something to make you feel unwelcome?” Anger flashed in her eyes, but not at me. Her anger was directed at other people.

“It's not—no. Not directly, but sometimes what people don’t say can hurt just as much. I don’t remember anyone being openly hateful, but enough were openly not accepting enough to make me feel like I didn’t belong there.”

“Honey, we—you’re more important to us than anyone in that place. We can get a new church. We can find different friends. We only have one son.”

“Tell us about this man of yours,” Dad said. “What was his name again?”

“Oren.” I exhaled. “Oren Reid.”

“How’d the two of you meet?” Dad asked, taking control of the conversation to give Mom a chance to breathe and get her emotions under control. That she was mad for me and not at me made all the difference.

“I pulled him out of a car wreck.”

Dad laughed. “Leave it to you to pick up someone at an accident.”

The three of us shared a laugh, and I suddenly wished I’d told Oren to come. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“So call him up. We can save him a plate.”

“I don’t know that I want him eating your food. This makes my food look like cardboard.”

“You and I both know I didn’t make this.” Dad rolled his eyes at me. “Now are you going to invite him or not?”

“Dad, I think Oren’s had enough excitement this week. He was stuck in an elevator at work, which triggered a migraine from the stress. He’s finally back on his feet, but I don’t know how social he’d feel like being. I’ll bring him around soon, I promise. Just give him some time, okay?”

“I guess that will have to do. So long as we get to meet him.”

“You will. He’s, ah… he’s moving in.”

“Moving in? How long have you been together?” Mom asked, sounding more sad than concerned.

“Not long actually, but it feels right.”

“It must, if you were willing to take a huge risk for him. I’m sorry if we ever did or said anything to make you think you couldn’t tell us.” Dad’s eyes were unusually glassy.

I wished I could tell them that they hadn’t, but I didn’t know at this point if that would’ve been a lie.

Had I applied the whispers at their church to everyone around me?

Including my parents? It was a possibility.

But I was tired of living the way I had been.

Meeting Oren had made me want more for myself. Better for myself.

“I want you guys to meet him. He’s important to me. I’ll make it happen soon, okay?”

Dad smiled at me fondly. “Okay, son.”