Page 89 of The Bro Date
I sit up straight in my seat, correcting my posture and squaring my shoulders.
I know who I am, and I know I love Shane.
I’ve loved him for years.
Nothing can change that.
Shane reaches over and grabs hold of my hand under the table, squeezing it for reassurance.
“Can’t say I’m completely shocked,” my dad admits with a shrug, taking another bite of his asparagus. “There was this time when you were younger, and you only wanted to wear princess nightgowns to bed. Your mother indulged you. I told her not to?—”
“Matthew!” Mom hisses, giving him a death glare. “This is serious. What will everyone at the country club think?Church?” She takes a deep breath, rubbing her forehead. “My God.”
I huff, completely irritated by her response. “That’s what you’re worried about, Mom?” I roll my watery eyes because I don’t care what her shallow friends think or the church, but I can’t deny that it hurts deep down knowing that she’s only worried about their feelings when they’ve got nothing to do with my lifeorthis family. It would be nice for my mother to support me for once, but I really shouldn’t expect anything more from her. It’s only setting myself up for disappointment.
My dad, however, shocks me by speaking up and defending me in his own self-centered way. “Actually, honey, the clubmanager’s daughter is a lesbian. I’m sure he will be very supportive of us.”
She ignores him, aiming her fire at Shane next. “And you . . .” She eyes him up and down, making me extremely uncomfortable, but Shane only stiffens his spine, ready to take the blow. “The last thing I’d expect fromyouis to be gay.”
Is that supposed to be some sort of insult?
Like always, Shane doesn’t falter. “I’ve loved your son for a decade. It doesn’t really matter what you think, because with all due respect, Mrs. Livingston, I’m not going anywhere. And I’ll treat your son better than anybody else could—guy or girl.”
“I beg your finest pardon—” Mom gasps, pressing her hand to her heart and literally clutching her pearls.
“Now, now. Let’s all just take a deep breath,” my dad says, holding his hands up and trying to play the mediator for some strange reason. I guess he doesn’t want any drama to take away from the buzz he’s got going on. “Let’s not escalate this any further, Renée.”
“Don’t youdare, Matthew,” she spits at him. “You can’t tell me you’re happy about this? Our only son is agay violinistinstead of a successful real estate agent who's dating a beautiful, southern belle ready to birth our grandchildren.”
“A lot of families have to deal with this. It’s not uncommon, Renée,” my dad reasons, finishing off the last of his drink. “There’s always adoption.”
“I cannot believe you right now, Matthew,” Mom growls, wrinkling her upper lip and baring her teeth.
“Honey,” my dad pleads, “it’s not the end of the world. I promise.”
“Stop!” I shout, unable to bear sitting at this table and listening to them talk about me like I’m not even here. “Can we just agree to disagree like we do with everything else about my life?” I can once again feel myself retreating into my shell like ahermit crab. I’m ready for this evening to end. I don’t even want to stay for dessert, I’m so uncomfortable.
“I can respect that,” my dad says, “but just know, I don’t disagree with you at all. It’ll just take some getting used to on our end.” Then he changes the subject as if trying to move on from the inconvenience of me coming out. “So, Renée, what’s for dessert?”
“I don’t think we were done with this discussion yet, Matthew,” she says sharply, side-eyeing him with a pointed glare.
I stand from the table, interrupting this ridiculous conversation. “It’s not a discussion. I was simply letting you know,” I say bluntly, despite the heat rushing to my cheeks and the drum pounding against my ribs.
“Toby’s right,” Shane says, standing next to me and grabbing my hand to imbue some of his strength and resilience into me. He squeezes my fingers tightly, letting me know he’s got my back. “Respectfully, Mr. and Mrs. Livingston, it’s not your choiceoryour decision who your son is attracted to and dates. And it certainly isn’t your choice who he falls in love with.” He turns to me, whispering into my ear, but I’m sure they both hear. “I think it’s time for us to go, butterfly.”
My mother scoffs, rolling her eyes in disgust. “This is all your fault. You’ve poisoned my son since the day you met him. Public school was the ultimate mistake all along.” She storms off into the kitchen before we can say anything back.
“Listen, boys. I’m sorry for her reaction. I think she may be in shock and slightly triggered. But nonetheless, please get home safely. I’ll try to talk some sense into her over dessert.” He chugs his drink back, shaking his head and smacking his lips as he fights the burn. “There was a time in college when I experimented with a man, and if I’m being honest with myself, I think about him often.Renaldo,” Dad purrs, and I nearly gaspin shock at his confession. “Your mother knows this, and she’s always held some sort of resentment toward a man she’s never met.”
He’s clearly drunk and spilling secrets that I really hope he doesn’t remember.
“I’m goin’ to make another drink,” he slurs, waving us off. “Have a good night.”
We’re left standing in the empty dining room alone, nothing but the repetitive ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
“Let’s go, Tobes,” Shane murmurs, wrapping his arm around me and hugging me tightly. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
It’s Sunday morning, and I can’t seem to shake off last night’s dinner with my narcissistic parents. I was hopeful that a good night’s sleep might blur some of the details from my brain, but I can still picture my mother’s disgusted eyes. The only thing she’s worried about is her own reputation, as if my being gay might tarnish it.
