Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 107949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
But after a few minutes, as always, we ran out of things to say to each other. They weren’t interested in hearing about my life. Not really. And they didn’t have anything more to tell me about theirs.
Once, early in the year, I told Milton that I kind of wished I’d had some big confrontation with my dad about being gay and how he never really acknowledged it, because that at least would be easier than always tiptoeing around it. Milton had said, “Maybe. But you don’t have to tiptoe just because he does. That’s his problem.” At the time I’d dismissed it because my dad’s reluctance to bring it up always felt like such a condemnation. Like I would be embarrassing myself as well as him if I mentioned anything.
Now, though, it just didn’t seem worth it. It was so clear, suddenly: my dad had nothing to offer me, really. I guessed that I had always kind of been waiting for him to come around. To decide that really knowing me was worth feeling a little uncomfortable for.
But I was done waiting for people. So I kissed my mom, hugged Janie and Eric, shook my dad’s hand, and left with the casserole still in the oven and the rolls unbaked, walking slowly through town and into the woods toward Rex’s, knowing that Will would be home soon.
THE FRONT door closed, and Will slumped backward against it, closing his eyes, like everything outside the cabin was a nightmare he was trying to escape.
“What happened?”
Without thinking, I went to him and slid my hands around his back underneath his coat, as if touching him were natural again. It felt natural? Touching him felt like finally letting out a breath I’d taken months ago.
Will transferred his weight from the door to me and let out a rumbling groan of exhaustion and exasperation. I could feel how tense he was in the muscles of his back and shoulders.
“Do you want to take a shower or something?”
Will shook his head and dragged himself upright, dropping his expensive coat in a heap on the floor and coming to the couch.
“Here, one sec.”
I brought in the spaghetti I’d made from the kitchen and handed Will a bowl, settling with my own on the other end of the couch, facing him.
He gave me a thankful smile and toed off his shoes before falling on the pasta like a wolf.
“You seriously have the worst table manners I’ve ever seen. What’s up with that?”
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and smirked at me, a shadow of his usual attitude in place.
“My parents would leave food for us in the fridge when they went out to dinner, so I’d end up just eating something standing at the counter a lot. Or peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon fast enough that I wouldn’t taste it.” He made a face.
“That why you don’t like it now?” I asked, remembering he’d mentioned that months before. He gave a one-shoulder shrug, then nodded.
“Now, I guess I usually eat while I’m running out the door to work, or at my desk between meetings, or in front of the TV. I don’t know, it’s probably terrible for me. Whatever.”
He went back to his food, finishing the bowl and slouching against the cushions before I was even half-done.
“So how’s Claire?”
He closed his eyes and blew out a breath.
“She’s fine, physically. I fought with her for, seriously, hours about going back on her medication. Who the hell knows if she’ll comply. Nathan came home from school while we were fighting about it, though, so we had to explain. Kind of. Like we told him about how taking medicine made his mom calmer and more… the same every day. And—fuck—he looked right at her and said, ‘I always like you, but I guess it would be better if you were more the same every day,’ and patted her on the shoulder.”
“Oh man.”
“So she’s crying, and I’m practically crying because, shit, the kid’s ten years old. He shouldn’t be worrying about this crap. And Nathan goes, ‘But don’t worry if there are days you can’t because Uncle Will takes really good care of us on those days, even if it is over the phone.’ And I started actually crying because, damn. And Claire just about gets hysterical because apparently she didn’t fucking know that they call me constantly and then I call all over creation looking for her. So, I don’t know. Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe she’ll be able to see how much she’s hurting everyone by not taking the damn medicine. Like, in the past I’ve made her. But when I’m not here… I can’t really.”
“You’ve made her?”
Will’s eyes flashed, immediately defensive. “I didn’t force it down her throat or anything, Jesus. She always thanked me later, when it had kicked in—said it was the right thing to do. She just couldn’t always come to that decision when she wasn’t on the medication. That’s how it’s always been with her. I knew what was the right thing, and I made sure she did it. Even if she hated me for it in the moment—and believe me, there have been plenty of times she’s fucking hated me. But sometimes, you know, there are things that are more important than someone liking you.”