Page 22 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

Darren sighs as he stares at his phone. “I think it would be better coming from you.” He lifts his phone and presses play on a video of us in bed together. I’m wearing the same shirt I’ve got on now, so this must have been taken after I pretended to fall asleep. Crap. Last night, Darren—He loves me and I completely forgot. Oh, hell. Okay, yeah, I’m getting a clearer picture on where this is heading, and I don’t believe I like it, so I focus on what’s tangible. The still image of us in front of me. I don’t reallylook like myself in it, and I can’t tell what seems different about us. Once he clicks play, we’re talking in the video, but I can’t stop staring at myself on screen. At one point Darren tells the sedated version of me that he loves me, and I say it back. I tell him I love him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

On screen, Darren cuddles closer to me and asks me to say something to myself on the video. He asks me to tell him where I am and who I’m with. My heart thunders as I wait to hear something I ought to be able to remember.

“I’m where I belong,” I say, smiling drowsily into the camera. “I’m with the man I love.” And then I lean in, and I give Darren a kiss.

When I look up from the screen to judge his headspace, he’s staring at us on the phone like he’s witnessing a miracle. The way he looks in the video is probably the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and there I am, right beside him, smiling twice as wide and twice as bright. It’s only now I realize what seems different about me. In this video, I don’t look like myself, because I’m not. I’m happy. In this precious forty-five-second glimpse into an alternate reality I could once only dream of, I see actual proof that I could be happy. Actual evidence that I won’t be struck down by a lightning bolt should I choose to act on my natural urges.

In the video, he kisses me again, and it’s all I can do to stifle a sob, because this version of me is getting something I never will, and I don’t even have the memory of it to cling to. It isn’t fair. I’ve worked so hard to stay the straight and narrow, only to find I’ve already faltered. Only to find I’ve continuously faltered, and I don’t even get a damn morsel of a memory to revisit later.

He must know.

Dare has to know, because he presses his lips to the corner of my mouth and just lets them sit there. Nothing has ever felt as right as Darren does right now, giving me a gentle kiss. Nothing.

“This is our love story. I’ve lived it without you, but I’m tired of living it alone.” He stares into my eyes like he’s trying to pour himself into my soul. “I love you, Miles. I’m in love with you, and I think if you think long and hard about it, you’ll realize you love me too. I want to help make that happen sooner rather than later. I’ve already crossed nine-thousand boundary lines with the stalking and everything, so what do you say I cross one more?” There isn’t any cruelty in his tone, but his words feel paralyzing. He looks up at me, his gentle, calm face having a residual calming effect on me. The calm doesn’t last long. “From now on, you’re my boyfriend.”

I jerk my head back and gape at him. “Excuse me?” My heart is racing a mile a minute, and no matter how many deep breaths I take, I can’t make it slow down. “You’re blackmailing me into having sex with you?”

“Blackmail?” His jaw pretty much hits the floor, and he jerks away like I’ve struck him. “Never. I thought we could just have a little platonic slow-burn romance.” He leans in and brushes the tips of our noses together. “I want to start sleeping over. I was hoping you’d let me hold your hand. Sometimes, I might want a cuddle. It’s not that different from how we are now, in all honesty. We’ll just have a new name for it. I won’t pressure you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I’m uncomfortable with the entire prospect of platonically dating you. This is insanity. I’m not in love with you, Dare. How could I be? I’m not gay anymore.” I kind of expect him to call me out, because I think we both know that’s not true. He doesn’t though. He just leans a little closer and kisses my forehead.

“Until you’re ready to join me on the other side of the rainbow, how about I stay here and keep you company?” His eyes study mine for a moment before adding, “If I take off your restraints, you’re not going to hurt me are you? I’m not a fighter, Miles. You’d kill me with a single swing.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking around or being serious. “When have you ever known me to be violent? I would never hurt you. Ever.”

He gnaws his lower lip as he reaches for the restraints. He gets one off, then the other, and we just stay here, staring at each other. I make no move to lower my arms, because I’m worried he’s going to think I’m trying to hit him.

“My arms are sore, so I’m going to lower them now,” I say, trying to assure him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” As my arms come down, he flinches and slams his eyes shut, and it’s a look I can’t stand to see. All scared and helpless, like a lost little lamb. I have to stop him from looking like that, so I do the only thing I can think of. I wrap an arm around his lower back and the other around his shoulder, bringing him to my chest, burying his face in my neck. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this on your own. I know it must have hurt, and I don’t ever want you to hurt like this.” My neck’s a little wet, and at first, I think he’s licking me, but then I hear him sniffle. “You’re okay. We’re okay, Dare. I don’t hate you.”

“Can I stay with you for a while? I don’t want to go home. He’s going to be home all day.”

I feather my fingers through his hair, wanting to give him a little affection at the mere thought of his father. He’s always been so cruel to Darren. It’s the reason I took him under my wing when he was little. Problematic though our platonic pairing might be, I’ve always wanted to keep him safe. It’s the reason this place feels so much like home. Not because it’s where I grew up—because it’s where he did. Right across the street. Always in my line of sight. I can keep an eye on Dare here. Even when he left for college, I could hear updates on his college career by rushing across the street whenever Sister Matthews was working in her garden. I can’t leave this house, because leaving means he has no safety net. No means of escape. Right now, if his father were to spout more cruelty about his son being a bit effeminate,or threaten to kick him out and leave him homeless, Darren would have nowhere to run. But he can run to me. I’ll catch him every time. Now Dare’s hurting because of me. Because of something I’ve allegedly given him. My heart. A heart that isn’t mine to give, because its place is in Heaven. Its home is at His side. So why does Darren feel more like home than God ever has?

“I have one condition. The platonic dating thing—if I agree to it, it’s on the condition that you let me continue to try to cure you.” I say, feeling like it’s the only thing about the situation I can control. “I’ll agree to it, but our therapy sessions aren’t over. I’m going to convert you, Darren. It’s going to happen.” I kiss his scalp. “I hope you bought a one-way ticket when you flew back over the rainbow to save me, because I’m never letting you go back again.” He pulls away and has a look that tells me he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. I can’t say I blame him, because I don’t believe it all that much either.

“Sure thing, Father Daddy.” As soon as the words are out, his hand flies to his mouth, his eyes bulging. The endearment—if you can call it that—pulls me out of the moment, and I lean back, breaking contact with him.

“Father Daddy?”

“Don’t.”

An unexpected smile spreads across my face as he blushes brightly “Is that what you think of me as? Father Daddy?” He nods, but he still isn’t looking at me. Can’t have that. I place a finger on his chin and tug until our eyes meet. “Say it. Tell me.” I tickle his ribs, feeling almost carefree, like nothing in the world can hurt us here.

Giggling, he rests his face in the crook of my neck. Bashfully, he says, “Yeah. That’s who you are to me. Father Daddy. My conversion therapy king.” There’s a playful tone to his voice, but I can tell he’s just using it to mask his truth. Looking up at me,his lips curl into a smile. His breathing is slow, his body warm and heavy against mine. The longer we rest here, the more my resistance falls and the less bizarre the situation feels. Right now, with him almost in my lap, this doesn’t feel like sin. It feels monumental. It feels truer than any truth I’ve ever known, and that scares the hell out of me.

chapter nine

What in the world am I doing? My wife doesn’t love me, my church is failing, and now my best friend in the world is blackmailing me into being his boyfriend. Okay, maybe notblackmail, but it’s still uncomfortable. Platonic or not, the entire situation feels problematic, but there’s a small part of me that yearns for what Darren is offering me.

I pick my tightest pants, because Darren says he wants to look at my butt during the date he asked me to take him on. I should be running for the hills, yet, with this simple outfit selection, it feels like I’m surrendering.

Downstairs, I head through the kitchen, pausing at the vase of flowers I bought yesterday, hoping to bring a little life to our lifeless home. Pinks and purples and even a few oranges pop out in the stunning arrangement. The pink flowers remind me of Darren’s cheeks right when they start burning whenever I make him blush. It’s the most beautiful color I’ve ever seen, and I want Darren to have one, so I pluck out the tallest flower with the prettiest bloom.

Mal’s bedroom door is open, and I pause, leaning against the door frame. She looks up at me with a cocked eyebrow before closing the book in her lap and setting it on the bed.

“I take it the rose isn’t for me?”

I look down at the flower and blush. “It is if you want it.” The words feel like a test. A final push for us. For the happy couple we always hoped we’d be.

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