Page 6 of Whiskey Neat

“I just need a place to land for a bit while I figure things out,” I say into her shoulder. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Mom says. “You’re our child.”

“The apartment’s empty,” Dad says. “You can stay down there.”

I cautiously look up, hoping to see something resembling acceptance. Ours is a tense relationship, filled with obvious love but plenty of judgment and disappointment too. He didn’t think he’d signed up for a feminine, headstrong gay son, but I’ve often reminded him that having kids is a crapshoot. I definitely didn’t request a stern, uptight, sports loving dad, but hey, the universe has a sense of humor.

His expression is… neutral. I’ll take neutral.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Nodding, he steps forward, his shrewd eyes scrutinizing mine. “Are you sure you’re okay otherwise?”

“Yeah.” I’ll leave out that the reason I clung so tightly to my failing lifestyle was being hung up on the gaslighting, narcissistic asshole I spent two years of my life trying to please. Those scars can’t be healed by concerned parents. “Can you just say it now so we can get past it?”

“Say what?” he asks.

“That you told me it wouldn’t work out. You told me it was a stupid idea to head to New Onyx with nothing but my high school degree and my graduation money. You warned me every year since that the cost of living was rising and the job market was getting more competitive. You were right, so can you just get out whatever it is you want to say about it?”

My mom rubs my back while Dad just creases his brow. “Son, I don’t know why you think I’d kick you while you’re down, but you’re wrong.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but you gave it a solid try. You made it there on your own for almost ten years. It shows you’re tenacious and resourceful. I’d never scold you for that.”

I blow out a breath, releasing all the tension I’ve been holding since I decided to come back. My eyes sting with unshed tears, but I blink them back.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He half smiles, which is a lot of emotion for him. “You’ll have to clean up down there. It’s been empty for two months.”

“I’ll wash the bedding,” Mom says.

“No, Mom, I can do it. You’re not taking care of me. As soon as I get a job, I’ll pay rent.”

“Nonsense,” Dad says. “You’ll figure things out soon enough. Until then, welcome home. The only thing I ask is that you don’t make too much noise after ten p.m. And no weed. The smell makes me nauseous.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“No? I thought all young people did.”

I shake my head. “It makes me too sleepy.”

My mom brushes her hand over my hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Shepherd’s pie?”

My stomach rumbles in response. “I’d love it, Mom.”

Her face lights up. She loves cooking for her kids. “Give me an hour. Towels are in the apartment if you want to shower and relax first. Do you need a snack? I have cookies.”

“Lots of cookies,” Dad says. “She can’t say no to those cute little girls at the door.”

“I’ll take some cookies.”

She loads me up with bottled water and two boxes of my favorite cookies before sending me down the back staircase to the basement apartment. I got lucky that they don’t have a tenant right now, otherwise I’d be in my childhood bedroom right next to their bedroom.

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