Page 136 of Untouchable

I wish Parker was here,Harp thinks, and it’s his last real thought before sleep overtakes him.

* * *

Parker knewThanksgiving would be bad.

He didn’t know it would be this bad, though.

It starts off innocuous enough, with relatives whose names he can’t remember pulling him in for a hug or kissing him on the cheek, asking what he’s been up to lately. But, like always, Parker can hear the judgement creeping into their voices as they realize that—just like last year—Parker is content with his career, isn’t using this as some lark to “find himself.”

No one seems very happy that Parker considers himself already found.

It gets worse, too, because as Parker gets more uncomfortable, he starts to cower, folding in on himself and tripping over his words—and this only triggers a little rockslide of criticism from his mother, and then his older sisters as well. Parker, stop slouching. Parker, stop stammering. You sound like a valley girl. You sound like you just had a stroke.

Throw in a garden variety homophobic uncle, and by the time they’re clearing the table for dessert, Parker feels ready to faint.

He quietly excuses himself to use the bathroom. Instead he sneaks up the stairs and pulls out his phone. He perches on his bed, trying to compose a text message to Harp, but his hands are shaking too badly. Before he can overthink it, he calls Harp, praying he’ll pick up but knowing it’s not likely.

* * *

Harp isin the middle of his third taco when his chest pocket starts chirping.

It's Parker. He's calling.

Harp picks it up without thinking twice. It's the first call he's gotten all day, and he can't believe how relieved he is at the thought of talking to someone. When had thathappened?

"Well hey, Parker," Harp says, answering his phone with a huge grin.

“Harp?” Parker says, his voice quavering. “Um—are you busy? Can I, um… do you have a moment?”

"Baby?" The word comes out of nowhere. Parker sounds like he's barely holding it together. "What's wrong?"

“I wish I was with you,” Parker whispers, as if he’s afraid to say it out loud. “I just—I don’t—this is a fucking awful Thanksgiving.”

"I wish I was with you. What happened, Parker?"

* * *

The sheer reliefParker feels when he hears Harp’s voice is overwhelming, and the first tear slips down his cheek, leaving a cold-hot streak on his burning skin.

Parker inhales a long, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself.

“Just—my family happened. Or maybe I happened to my family. It was… a lot of things. The usual, like, they were—they were giving me shit for not going to college. But in this really passive aggressive way, like, implying they could help if I decided to ‘get my life on track’ and stuff. I just—I don’t get why they won’t just let me be.”

"They won't let you be because of who they are, not you," Harp says quickly. "Your life is on track—I don't understand what's so hard to see about that for them. Do they not know any other human being in their 20s?"

“It’s just—it’s just different in my family,” Parker says. He collapses against the headboard, slumping over. “Like, compared to my sisters and my cousins I’m… a total failure. It’s—I mean—it’s just the same stuff I told you about… when I stayed over. Nothing I do is ever going to be good enough.”

He brushes the tears away with the heel of his hand.

“I dunno why I…” He trails off. He’d been about to say he didn’t know why he’d bothered calling Harp, but he realizes that’s not even remotely true. He clears his throat. “You know, I kept thinking that… it’s been so much worse this trip, seeing my family, but then I realized that’s not true. It’s the same as it’s always been but the difference is you. Because, like, you’re the first person who’s ever told me… again and again and again, even when I don’t believe it, that I was important. And I guess maybe it sunk in because everything they said—just hurt so much more because… because now I’d heard something different, you know? And now I know what it feels like to… actually have someone who’s just… so fucking nice and supportive and—” He stops himself, sniffling. “Sorry—I’m sure you were having a nice quiet night and I just come in and disturb it and stuff—I just—I really… I really needed you.”

* * *

"Parker,stop. Short of being with you right now, there's nothing on earth I'd rather be doing than talking to you," Harp says.

Had he really made such a big difference in Parker's self esteem? He'd only been being honest.

"I'm sorry they're terrible to you,” Harp continues. “You deserve people who are proud of who you are. I'm proud of who you are."

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