Page 50 of Dear Mr. Brody

“I’ve heard of it,” he said, his lips twitching up at the corners. “I don’t need to tell you to be careful, right?”

“No,Dad… I think I can handle myself.”

He punched me in the shoulder again, an incredulous smile spreading across his face. “This is… I mean… have you always known… I mean, before Lanie?”

“Yeah… but tomorrow will be the first time I’ve ever done anything about it,” I said, and Anne knocked on the window. I held up my finger and she rolled her eyes. “I better get her some food before she turns into a Gremlin.”

“Forget what I said earlier… about Mom and Dad.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “I think I was shocked… maybe projecting a little.”

“Projecting?”

He waved me off. “Whatever, I was being a dick. Don’t worry about it. Mom and Dad love us…”

“I mean… yeah. I hope so.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “They do. They have to, right?”

“We’re good, then?”

“Solid.” He pulled me in for another hug. Squeezing me tighter than before, he clapped me on the back. “Let me know how it goes.”

“You really want to know?” I asked and he laughed.

“My brother is about to embark into the wild world of bachelorhood, of course I want to fucking know… it should be comical, if nothing else.”

“Thanks,” I said, and he chuckled as I climbed into the front seat of my car.

When I pulled away, he waved one last time, and any trepidation I’d had about his acceptance of my sexuality faded with his wide smile. Perhaps I should’ve been anxious about what my parents might think, but it wasn’t enough for me to hide who I was or what I wanted. If I was a disappointment to them strictly based on who I happened to fall in love with or who I was attracted to, then maybe I didn’t need their acceptance anyway.

After I dropped Anne at school the next morning, the rest of the day dragged. I’d spent the majority of my day zoning out at work, mindlessly rereading manuscripts as I thought about everything that might happen tonight. For the most part, I’d been able to harness my nerves, but as I pulled into a parking spot behind the brewery, every apprehensive thought I’d tried to keep at bay came rushing forward. I lowered the stereo as my car came to a stop. My head ached with anxiety and what ifs. I smoothed a hand down my chest as I looked into the rearview mirror. God, what was I doing? I’d tried to talk myself out of showing up tonight about a thousand times. Each excuse I’d come up with more creative than the last. What if I wasn’t what he expected? What if my experience, or lack thereof, turned out to be too much of a burden for him? What if he was a serial killer who collected skin, and was obsessed with lotion and wells? I fell back in my seat and laughed at myself. Swiping my thumb across the screen of my phone, I opened the message he’d sent me earlier. It was a snapshot of him from the neck down. I’d sent him something similar before I left my house. We’d agreed to send the pictures as a way for us to recognize the other by what we’d chosen to wear. He had on a dark blue shirt that hugged his broad chest and biceps, and a pair of worn jeans. I stared down at the gray button down I’d chosen, hoping it wasn’t too much. Part of me wondered if we should have sent pictures of our faces as a last-minute, get-out-of-jail-free card. The other, more insecure side knew, if we had, and he was as good looking as I’d imagined him to be, the likelihood of me chickening out at the last second would have been exponentially higher. I counted backward from fifty before I typed out a quick message.

@MeAndMyShadow33:Just got here.

I cut the engine and got out of the car after a few minutes with no reply. Assuming he was on his way, and not standing me up, I headed inside. The place bustled with laughter and energy as I walked in. I did a quick scan of the room, looking for a guy in a navy-blue t-shirt, and came up empty.

“How many?” the hostess asked as I stepped forward.

“Two, but my… friend isn’t here yet.”

“No problem. You can wait at the bar if you want...” I looked over her shoulder. There were only a few empty seats available, none of which were seated together. “Or I have a booth open.”

“A booth would be great. Thanks.”

She grabbed two menus, and I followed her through the busy restaurant. The atmosphere was warm with brick-covered walls. Light-colored wood trimmed a wide staircase that led to a second floor toward the back of the open room, and with a large, iron chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, the place had an old saloon vibe. We stopped at a booth next to the bar, and I took the seat facing the front door.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and I smiled.

“It’s perfect.”

As she walked back to the front, I looked over the menu she’d left behind. The words swam on the page as I stared at it, too nervous to remember how to read, apparently. I checked my messages again to no avail. He hadn’t replied. After a few minutes, a waiter had stopped by the table, asking if I wanted a drink, and I’d ordered a beer. I figured if Michael never showed up, the alcohol would be a nice bandage for my ego. I picked at the damp, wrinkled label on the bottle, checking the door occasionally, and by occasionally, I meant every five goddamn seconds. My dry mouth found no relief from the cold beverage, and the more I checked the door, the more I started to second-guess everything. I ran my hand through my hair, the questions in my head firing in rapid succession. What if I’d pushed myself into this? What if we should have waited to meet? What if I was being catfished? What if he was scared too? What if he walked in and saw me and walked out before I had a chance to notice?

Fuck.

This was a mistake.

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