Page 33 of You Are Not Me

Barry gazed at me, finally nodding his head. “Good. Drink your water and I’ll take you back to Tilt-a-Whirl to get your car.”

***

When I gothome, Mom and Dad were waiting for me in the kitchen. They were both still in their pajamas and wide-eyed like they’d been awake for hours, possibly bolting coffee that entire time.

“Hey,” I said, hoping I could play off Robert’s lies about bad food and whatever else, but not feeling capable in the face of my head-clanging hangover and their serious expressions.

“Sit down,” Dad said, pointing at the empty seat at the kitchen table.

Warily, I obeyed. The interrogation came on fast. I leaned my elbows against the table, covered my face with my hands, preparing to endure it.

“Food poisoning?” Dad asked, not bothering to hide his disbelief. “What exactly did you eat, Peter?”

I scrubbed my hands through my hair and shrugged.

“Answer my question. What did you eat?”

“Something I shouldn’t have,” I murmured, wincing. That was true enough.

They looked at each other and then Mom took her turn. “Who is this Robert to you, Peter? I mean, who is hereally?” Mom crossed her arms over her plaid flannel nightgown. She must be working on another book set on the prairie. I hadn’t seen her in flannel since the last Western-romance she’d sent to her publisher.

“He’s my boss.”

“He soundedgay, Peter.”

I straightened, irritation flaring up my spine. “What does that mean? He ‘sounded gay?’ How can a person sound gay?”

“You know damn well how,” Mom said, her eyes narrowing.

Dad put his hand out between us, asking for calm. “Your mother and I won’t have you being taken advantage of—”

“He’s not! We’re not!” I spat out, “We’re just friends.”

Mom looked at Dad and they spoke to each other with their eyes. I hated when they did that.

Finally, Dad said firmly but with a condescending calmness that pissed me off, “Fine. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“What does that even mean?” I asked. Anger rose in me like last night’s nausea—rolling in hard and uncontrollable. Robert would never touch me, despite all of his jokes. He wasn’t your typical boss. He was unorthodox, sure, but he was a good man, and the only person who’d been there for me last spring when I needed someone most.

“I mean, start at the beginning,” Dad said, jamming his finger on the table.

“Okay, then.” I barely contained my smirk. “Genesis says that in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth—”

“Don’t be a smartass, young man,” Mom snapped. Her fingers shook. In the past, she’d have downed a Valium right about now, but, to her credit and my frustration, she didn’t.

Dad narrowed his eyes. “What we mean, and you know it, is howexactlydid you meet Dr. Michaels’s son?”

“So now you care? I’ve been working for him for the last six months andnowall of a sudden you care how I met him?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why? Because we’re both gay?”

Dad’s eyes went dark with anger, and my stomach tightened. He was the steady one between my parents. If he was truly angry, I might find myself grounded for the first time in my life. And if my mom lost it, then I’d be the one to pay the price if she went back to numbing herself out, wouldn’t I?

I gritted my teeth. Maybe I didn’t care. Maybe it was too late for them to try to control me.

Dad leaned forward. “Now, listen here. You might be almost nineteen years old, and you might be on your way to college, but you’re still my son and you willnotspeak to me in that tone.”

I clenched my teeth together. Hangover, nausea, and sharp rage roiled in my gut. “Just because we’re both gay doesn’t mean we’re having sex!”

Mom stared at me like I was someone she’d never met. In a way, I guess that pretty aptly described our relationship these days.

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