Breaking some shackles
I've fallen into emptiness
I want you 'cause we're both insane
-- The Weeknd, Gasoline
He found his parents in the kitchen. Carolyn sat at the table with a cup of coffee only inches from her face while Henry stood across from her, leaning his forearms on the back of a chair. As soon as Theodore walked in, the room’s attention fell on him. If the couple had been talking before, their conversation ended right there. He stared back without a single feeling in his chest, numb all over.
His silence prompted Carolyn to get up, cup clinking against the saucer. “Well?” she asked. “What can you tell us?”
His shoulders raised into a brief shrug. “We just talked for an hour. She didn’t prescribe me anything or reach any conclusion. There’s no diagnosis; I’m… normal, I guess.”
“Of course you’re normal.” Carolyn spoke with a sharp tone, circling the table for the kitchen arch. Theodore stepped aside to let her through. “I can’t believe she didn’t prescribe you anything; that’s just sloppy!” Stopping in front of him for only a brief moment, she touched his shoulder. “I’ll get you some of mine.”
With that, she left. Somehow, it wasn’t surprising to learn she had a prescription of her own. Since she’d been standing between Theodore and his father, his eyes naturally found Henry’s next. Henry straightened up, fingers laced together, wrists on the back of the chair. His total nonchalance clashed with Carolyn’s agitation—they were usually on the same page about things.
“If you’d like to continue with Dr. Miller, let me know and I’ll foot the bill.”
That comment meant nothing to him. Rationally, he knew it was a nice gesture, that his father didn’t have to do that, but still, any kindness coming from him just seemed insincere; fabricated, if anything; a calculated move that would profit him in the end, even if Theodore had no idea how. Maybe, if therapy helped him come back to his senses, he’d remain on the path his father had forged for him—the desired outcome. That must be Henry’s thought process.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You’re not haunted, you know.” Henry’s voice was low, a much softer tone than the one he usually used. It’d started last night and hadn’t vanished yet. For as soothing as it should be, it actually made Theodore uncomfortable. If he’d driven his father to walk on eggshells around him, then things must be worse than he’d thought. “You’re just… sensitive. You’ve always been that way.”
“You don’t want sensitive, though, do you?”
The eggshells prompted him to talk back like he’d never done before. He was the one about to break, unhinged, whom his father so clearly wanted to keep from snapping—so he’d snap. It was time.
“You want strong and focused, someone who’s right in the head—not me. You’ve never wanted me.”
Henry’s eyebrows furrowed into a deep scowl. “Where’s that coming from? Of course I want you, Theodore. Jesus, you’re my only son.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m… not who you want me to be. I—I can’t be that guy.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I…” A big breath filled his lungs. Despite the magnitude of this moment, his heart didn’t race and his lungs didn’t collapse—there was absolutely nothing running down his veins. “I’m not straight, dad.”
Henry didn’t flinch. The unnamed emotion on his face kept his scowl in place, eyes locked with Theodore’s. Since no reaction came from him, Theodore continued.
“I still like girls; I just also like boys. I like both.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, Henry’s entire body relaxed; his shoulders drooped, the scowl left his forehead and his hands unlaced. One of them slunk away to hang by his side while the other held the back of the chair very loosely. He looked like he’d just been played a prank. “Well, that’s fine; I’m sure you’ll find a nice girl anyway. It doesn’t change much.”
“Yes, it does. It actually changes a whole lot.”
“Not in the grand scheme of things. You still are who I want you to be—who I know you can be. You’re more to me than any of that.”
“No, you’re assuming I’ll end up with a girl when I might not want that. I mean, what if I never want to get married at all?”
“I don’t expect you to want that or even think about it right now. God, Theodore, you’re still young—too young. You’ll want it when the time comes.”
“What if it never does? What if I just want to party and be with guys my whole life?”
“Then you’re not really bisexual, are you?”
They held the stare. He could feel the scowl on his own forehead dig in.
“You’re experimenting and it’s fine,” Henry continued. “It’s better to do it now so you’ll get these feelings out of your system early.”
“I can’t have them forever is what you’re saying. I have to get rid of them at some point.”
“Of course you do, so when you’re married, you won’t have to suppress anything. It’ll be easier on you.”
“What makes you think I’ll marry a girl?”
“Because I raised you in my image. You want to be successful, don’t you? You want admiration and respect; we all do. In time, you’ll see that having a family gets you halfway there. I’ve been building the other half for twenty years now, only so you can have it.”
The sound of Carolyn’s heels echoed in the distance.
“You mean the office.”
“Yes. My father gave me all the tools necessary to build you an empire; did you know that? Success is generational, and luckily for you, it runs in our family—in your blood. Everything I’ve built has been for you.”
His bottom lip trembled. The numbness in his body began to fade, leaving a faint tingle behind, scowl lessening—was that true? The possibility his father had done all of that out of love for him was almost too much to bear. Even then, a small voice in the back of his mind didn’t believe it; his heart swelled while rotting, conflicting and confusing, because if Henry had only built a family to garner success and respect, then everything he’d done for Theodore must’ve come from the same desire to bolster his own image. Optics was all he cared about, after all.
An uneven breath filled his lungs. “How are you so sure I won’t disappoint you?” His voice was almost too quiet to be heard, a small mumble as tears filled up his eyes. “I might be too fucked up to be everything you need me to be,” he added.
“You may think so, but the reality is that you’re not. You’re perfect because you’re mine, and if you need weekly therapy sessions and a prescription to see that, then so be it. All I need is for you to see yourself the way I see you.”
Carolyn’s footsteps grew louder.
“Now tell your mother.”
“Doesn’t she already know?”
“Tell her anyway.”
As soon as she walked in, she stood between them, turned to face him. An elegant motion produced a small yellow bottle with her name on the label, followed by the word Prozac. He didn’t know what that meant. “This is what you need,” she spoke while popping the bottle open and shaking it until two pills fell into her hand, small and round, white. “Here.”
Obediently, he cupped a hand so she could place the pills on his palm. How could something so small change the way he worked on the inside? His mind immediately went to Laith, when he said his prescription helped him power through tough times. Now, learning his mother took these relatively often, he realized that maybe it was just part of life. Even if Laith didn’t need his prescription all the time, it was still there. That might be what he needed, a pick-me-up every now and then, when the pit in his stomach grew a little too big to handle. He should’ve asked Dr. Miller for that referral.
“Dad.” That word left him as he accepted the cup of coffee his mother gave him. His eyes found Henry’s just over her shoulder. “I’m seeing Dr. Miller next week.”
He could only catch the beginning of Henry’s nod while taking the pills. The coffee was a little bitter, but after all the beer he’d had, it really was nothing he couldn’t handle. It was almost sweet in comparison.
“We can get you someone else, if you don’t like her,” Carolyn commented.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll walk to her office next week and take it from there. We’ll see.”
“You should ask her about the prescription.”
“I will.”
She placed the bottle in her cardigan pocket. “Henry, will you drive him home? I have much to speak with Tim about.”
“Yes, but before I do, he has something he’d like to tell you.”
He and Henry held the stare for a moment, breath caught in his throat. Since the worst had already passed—telling his father—he knew this would be fine, but the numbness had completely left by now, allowing him to feel the quick pace his heart had suddenly picked up. Right, it was her turn to know.
“Oh? What is it?”
“I’m, uh… I’m bisexual.” He practically choked on that word.
She stared at him wide-eyed. A second later, still mute, she glanced back at her husband, surely looking for his reaction. As far as conversations between his parents went, this one was pretty unusual; it wasn’t often that Henry had the upper hand. They usually learned of things together. All Henry gave her was a nod, so she turned back around.
“Okay,” she spoke with a nod of her own, eyebrows high on her forehead. “Thank you for sharing.”
“Sure.”
This was the most awkward he’d ever felt around his parents. Somehow, telling his father had been a much more pleasant experience, which didn’t seem right at all.
“Dad wanted you to know,” he clarified.
She promptly whipped back around. “Why didn’t you tell me!?”
“He just told me.”
Her chest moved up with a breath. It was impossible to see the look on her face from where Theodore stood, but he could tell she hadn’t liked that answer. Still, there wasn’t anything she could really counter him with, so instead of fighting him, she simply turned back around. “Well, I’d love you even if you were green and had antennas for ears,” she commented.
“Is it that bad?” Theodore asked.
“No. It’s… quite a relief to know, actually. I appreciate when you’re open and honest with us; it builds character.”
“Why is it a relief?”
“You know why.”
He did, but baiting it out of her would’ve allowed him the chance to fight it. That was only a relief because he could still be the straight-passing son his parents intended to show the world. As he swallowed the rebuttal down, he noticed he’d never argued with his mother either—that was Ryan’s thing. He’d wanted to question her in the past, of course, but he’d never found the right time. Now that his brother no longer hounded her with unpleasant discussions, she was open to have them with somebody else. It was finally his turn.
“Would you still love me if I ran away to California with a big burly dude?” he asked.
“I’d be very upset if you ran away. Do you know how far California is? It’d take us an eternity to find you.”
“What about the part where I’m with a big burly dude?”
“I did the exact same thing when I was your age. You’ll grow out of it.”
“What if I don’t?”
She stared at him. Over her shoulder, he saw his father roll his eyes. “I’ll take my chances,” she answered. “Now go with your father; I have a lot to do today.”
This was a losing battle. While he’d gotten his point across, he hadn’t gotten to where he’d wanted; his parents only accepted him as long as he still checked every box on their list. If he managed to look perfect on paper, then it didn’t matter who he really was or how he actually felt—he could only be with Laith for a limited amount of time. His father hadn’t given him the ideal age to get married, but if he was the example, then his mid-thirties would be it.
Well, at least they knew now. That was one less secret to keep.
***
It was only in the car that he realized he hadn’t checked his phone since he’d left his apartment. Turning it back on, a flood of messages filled his inbox with congratulations for his new relationship status; all the rats had seen the video by now. He scrolled through them to tap on Hwan’s text first.
Congrats for the promotion; you’re in a normal relationship now. I hope it feels like it’s supposed to and that he holds your hand while you watch TV.
I’m happy I got to meet you, man. You’ll always have a friend in me.
The beginning of that message was very nice, but the second part quickly dug a scowl into his forehead. Why did it sound like a goodbye? He had no intention to stop being friends with Hwan at all, or the others, for that matter. He’d said that a million times. Laith was wrong; dating him wouldn’t keep Theodore from seeing Hwan and his Poison Dart friends. Their factions meant nothing to him, and if he was a Dead Pony now, didn’t that mean he wasn’t anything at all? It didn’t matter; he’d make friends with whomever he wanted.
His fingers hovered over the keys, ready to reply, when he caught a glimpse of the time—9:30. Hwan was definitely asleep by now. The thought he’d gone to bed thinking he’d lost a friend was too upsetting to bear—Theodore had to get in contact with him right now. He didn’t care. As soon as his father dropped him off, he hit the call button and placed his phone to his ear. His free hand opened the gate, legs taking him across the front yard. Luckily, Hwan picked up just before he reached the elevators.
“Hey, Theo.” The roughness of his voice, coarse with sleep, put a big smile on Theodore’s face. He could picture it perfectly, the sleepy squint and Hwan’s messy bedhead, spiky hair all over the place.
“Hey, drama queen. Don’t you know I hate your defeatist attitude? You wrote that text like I was dead.”
A quiet sound reached him, soft like a breeze, which he could only interpret as Hwan breathing into the phone; sighing, maybe. Then, sheets rustled—was he leaving the bed or getting comfortable? There was a lot more sleep to do after this; Theodore didn’t intend for his call to last very long.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’d just seen the video when I sent that and I…” Another breath filled the receiver, but it sounded different this time, an inhale. “I’m happy for you, Theo; I really am. I know how much you care about him and how much he means to you; how… monumental this is. I’m proud of you. You did it; you’re dating the undateable. You’re a fucking legend.”
His eyebrows raised with expectation, but strangely, nothing followed. The way Hwan had been going on kind of sounded like he was about to reach a turn. “But…?” he baited.
“I guess I’m mourning what we had. I liked you; I wanted to spend more time with you and get to know you better. We all feel the same way; it’s pretty bittersweet.”
“Can you not say shit like that? I’m not gonna cut you out of my life. This faction thing doesn’t make any sense, and anyway, I’m not even one of you; I don’t have to follow your stupid rules. Laith already knows.”
“Is he okay with that?”
“Yes. He doesn’t believe I won’t choose sides, but he’s fine with us hanging out. I just can’t—” His heart skipped a beat. Off to his left, the elevator dinged. “We can’t… you know. We’re just friends again.”
“So he’s not okay with any of this but he has to be is what you’re telling me.”
“No, he is; we’ve talked about that. He just doesn’t like it.”
“Don’t you think that’s reason enough to stay away from me? Our friendship is a detriment to your relationship. It could end it.”
“Not if I play my cards right.”
“Is it worth the risk? You have to put these things on a scale, you know; you can’t just have both of us. You’re going to choose him and that’s alright.”
“I’m not choosing anyone!”
“You already have.”
His jaw clenched. The sound of the elevator doors opening prompted him to turn and walk in, free hand coming up to press the button with a six on it. “That’s not fair,” he whispered. “You never gave me a chance.”
“I was never your target.”
He pushed a fist into the chrome wall, silent. The smooth surface was cool on his knuckles.
“I’m sorry,” Hwan corrected. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.”
“No, I was just late.”
Pulling the phone away from his face, he almost ended the call. What stopped him right there was a sudden clarity that cut through the white-hot rage that burst his chest into a crisp—if he hung up now, it’d probably be the last time he’d get to talk to Hwan. He really, really didn’t want that; the thought alone carved his heart open. A shaky breath left his lungs as he slowly brought the phone back to his ear. “Can we please stay friends?”
“Of course, Theo. I told you I’ll always be your friend.”
Part of him hated hearing that, while the other part found it an infinite relief. His hand uncurled, lying flat over the chrome wall. He faced it, but didn’t really stare at it; his eyes dropped to the ground, head hanging low. His forehead slowly found the smooth surface. He couldn’t have Hwan, but then again, he’d never lose him. Their friendship was in limbo.
“I need you and Laith to make up,” he confessed. “I can’t keep running back and forth and I can’t let you go. I need you to be friends again.”
“He wanted to speak to me, right?”
That was a lie he’d never forget. “Yeah. Are you free tonight?”
“I can be. I’ll make time for it.”
“I love when you say that.”
No response came, but he could picture the smile that tugged on Hwan’s lips.
“I fucking hate you, by the way,” he quickly added.
“I love you too.”
“Fuck off,” he spoke around a smile that he failed to hold back, even if Hwan couldn’t see it. It was a matter of pride—wounded, in his case. He sucked at it. “Don’t say that.”
“Sorry. I’ll text you later—how about seven?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” He hesitated. “I love you.”
Those words came straight from the heart. It surprised him just how easily they climbed up his throat, free of fear and rejection, because he already knew the outcome—he knew Hwan would easily say it back and mean it. Before that happened, he spoke up.
“Don’t say it back.”
A swift movement pulled his phone away from his face and ended the call. For as much as he desperately wanted to hear Hwan mean it, he knew he shouldn’t—he couldn’t take it. He’d never be able to live with the knowledge. If Laith learned how to say it, then maybe it’d make Hwan’s words less impactful—maybe they wouldn’t hurt a million times worse.
This wasn’t right, was it?—feeling like this. No, it wasn’t; he’d have to tell Laith about it. Not now, but later, when these feelings no longer existed; when he saw Marquis again and let guilt replace the air that he breathed. If so much as seeing Hwan made him hate himself, then he’d be able to get over it. That would be the perfect time to tell Laith. Then again, should he really bother Laith with something that no longer had any relevance?
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