Page 79 of Honeysuckle
Hewasstruggling.
Suffocating.
I reached out under the table, swallowing my own panic and wrapped my fingers around his thigh, squeezing just enough to get him to breathe.
When I had climbed into the passenger seat I couldn’t have imagined dinner going like this. Dean had a tendency to dramatize but his family was whole other level of fucked up. They passed information about conversion clinics back and forth while stuffing their mouths with food.
The kids laughed and Dean’s father just kept drinking his whiskey in judgmental silence like nothing was happening. It was baffling that none of them realized how dehumanizing their conversation was and worse that they weren’t even including Dean in it.
The first time he said Sir, instead of Dad was a shock. But to hear him call his Mother ma’am as she berated his life and choices. I rarely felt the need to be angry for others, my own life was full to the brim with hate but today, in that moment of absolute disrespect; I made space for Dean.
I squeezed his thigh again and he inhaled a shaky breath as his mother continued to question him about things.
“I don’t know if I can…” Dean stumbled over the words. “Maybe a press release?”
He was caving to their requests.
The man I was so sure was made of stone was crumbling like a sandcastle in the tide.
He was going to write a statement and say what? Lie to everyone, tell them he wasn’t gay? Live his life still suffocating from the pressure of his family and buried beneath all the lies they want him to tell.
I watched as he stumbled through the degrading conversation and pulled my phone from my pocket.
911
Where are you?
I dropped the pin with our location and shoved the phone back in my pocket, turning my attention back on Dean who looked like he was going to be sick. They weren’t anywhere near finished with him.
His brother had pulled out his phone and was going through his contacts of women to set Dean up with all while Dean sat there and took the abuse. Part of me was tempted to flip out, to get him out of there but the logical part of me could see that it wouldn’t make anything better.
And Dean and I weren’t close enough for me to play white knight.
It was awkward and frustrating.
Time seemed to crawl by as they listed off women, each name making Dean flinch in protest, but he continued to offer them a soft smile that made me sick.
“What about Kerri-Ann?” Lianna asked, and Harvey scowled. “She’s pretty, brown hair,” she described her to him but it wasn’t getting them anywhere until she said, “smart but not smart enough to realize your brother is gay.”
“Oh! Kerri! Yeah…” Harvey nodded but I still wasn’t sure if he actually knew what his wife was talking about. “You just need to buckle down, show them they were wrong until we can get this fixed,” he said to Dean.
“Franklin,” his mother chimed in again, her voice sickly sweet like nails scraping along chalkboards. I knew the tone well, my mother used it often when she wanted something or was about to say the most fucked up thing she could think of in the moment.
Dean tensed in my grip, bracing for impact.
“We love you and we love who you are, but as a family we’ve worked too hard for our stations in life for something like this to come out. You’re so sick and we can see you struggling, the cry for help was heard so just let us take care of you now?” She said and it felt like someone had poured ice water down my back.
I could only imagine how jarring that was for him.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The words were strangled, like he was choking on the air in his lungs, but he got them out, his eyes watering and his muscles so tight I could see the way they flexed in his neck.
She opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Franklin, answer the door,” his father said, and I watched Dean rise from the table.
“Yes, Sir,” he said through a clenched jaw before leaving me at the table with the vultures.
