Page 78 of Honeysuckle
“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Josh.” He stood off the couch and approached my brother, who stared him down before slowly taking the offered hand in a firm shake. “Harbor’s new starting pitcher,” he said, and smiled at my brother.
I could feel my father watching me instead of them, and I turned to look at him, only to be slapped with all the judgment in his cold, old stare.Awesome. Even though I knew it wouldn’t protect me from my mother, my brother and father seemed to be swayed into silence by Josh’s confident presence.
They talked around me for a little while longer before dinner was called, and we all made our way into the dining room. Josh introduced himself to Lianna and all the kids before turning to my mother.
For a split second, I watched the anger bubble to the surface behind those brown eyes, but he plastered on a sweet smile and shook her hand before taking his spot at the table beside me. I wasn’t extended the same kindness from her; she ignored me most of dinner, chewing her food and asking Harvey weird questions.
Josh ate his food without hesitation, the roasted chicken and potatoes smelled delicious but my stomach was tight with anxiety and all I did was pick at it as everyone talked around me like I didn’t exist. It was when she set her fork down and stared at me from the other end of the table that I knew I was about to hear it.
“Are you going to explain yourself or sit there and eat our food like nothing is wrong?” She asked.
Our food.
I was already being talked about like I wasn’t a part of the family.
“What do you want me to explain?” I asked politely as I pushed around the barely eaten food on my plate. “You haven’t asked me a question.”
“Watch your attitude,” my father interjected, and I chewed on the inside of my mouth.
“Yes, Sir.” I nodded, turning to my mother. "I’m sorry,” I said to her tightly and I felt Josh’s mood shift beside me. “I’m feeling a little cornered about this entire thing.”
“Cornered? When you received the mantle of captain, Franklin. We expected you to make us proud, but imagine how I felt when I opened the newspaper to see your name in bold letters heading an article about your homosexuality,” my mother said.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” I repeated, because I didn’t know what else to say to her.
“You’re sorry?” She sighed but didn’t relent. “The words you’re using, you’re making yourself a victim, Franklin. Are you the victim here? Do you know how hard it was to walk into the club the next day when everyone was asking me questions about my gay son? How dare you do that to me, to this family.We’rethe victims. We gave you everything, supported every dream you had.”
“I know, Ma’am, I’m sorry.” I swallowed the copper tang of blood, my teeth tearing into the inside of my cheek just to keep from puking or screaming.
“Did you not receive enough love? Enough attention?” She questioned, her tone becoming harsh and tight. “Did I not love you enough? Is this punishment for something?”
“No, Ma’am.”
I wanted to screamyes, that she had never shown me an ounce of love. Not in the way that I needed, only in the way she deemed fit for her perfect little son. But I wasn’t who she raised, not in her eyes. I was now nothing but a disgusting sin, a stranger sitting at her dinner table, sharing her last name but not her sick, homophobic ideals.
Harvey was thriving in the tense atmosphere with a smile on his stupid face. His wife, Lianna also seemed to be enjoying the way my mother tore into me. The kids all ate unbothered, frankly it wasn’t even a family dinner if Mom wasn’t ranting about something. I had just never been the subject at hand.
“You’ll hold a press conference,” Harvey said in his office voice, and Mom looked pleased with him. “Tell them that it’s rumors, that you’re not…gay.” The word rolled off his tongue like it stung him to say it, and I tensed. “I’ve spoken with Mom and found three suitable rehab centers, all specializing in your illness.”
Conversion therapy.
My heart sank.
“You’re sick, Franklin, and I’m sorry it took me so long to notice but we can help you get back on a proper path. An acceptable one,” Mom said, reaching out to touch my hand.
It was still clenched tightly around my fork, I could feel the silver digging into my palm, and it was the only thing keeping me from lashing out. They wanted to send me away to a conversion facility because they thought I was mentally ill.You’re sick.
“They’re the best centers in the state, they have an eighty-eight percent success rate,” Lianna chimed in like she knew what she was talking about.
My mind was spinning; in fact, the entire room was. I felt like I was going to be sick, and the feeling of my mother’s touch against my hand was hot and sticky. I choked back a gag and did my best to inhale quietly as they talked about me like I wasn’t even there.
“One is only a few hours away,” Harvey explained.
A few hours?
“You see, Baby, we’ll fix this together.” My mother’s voice scraped down my spine like razor blades.
LOGAN
