Page 83 of Fast Break
“I love it,” he assures me.
Amy breezes into the hallway as the two of us are standing staring at each other and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.
“You look lovely, JT,” she enthuses.
“Thank you, Amy. As do you,” I reply.
“Charmer,” she chuffs, pulling on her ballet flats at the door. “I’ll meet you two at the restaurant. I’m heading out to pick up Gran.”
“See you there,” I smile, holding the front door for her. It’s just me and Quinn left then, and he wastes no time pulling me in for a proper kiss which we manage to make last until it’s time to leave.
See? Perfect. Every last bit of it.
***
Well, nearly every last bit of it. You see, despite the fragile ceasefire in my family home, there is no doubting my parents are struggling with our arrangement. Neither one of us has dared mention theQword since our initial talk and it seems to be becoming this increasingly large elephant in the room whenever I am at home. Which admittedly is less and less these days—thank you Grandma and Grandpa for all of eternity for the freedom.
Amy has relaxed the sleepover rules too, so I am sometimes waking up and going to school with Quinn these days which helps minimise missing out on too much time with each other when he’s studying.
But thedon’t-ask don’t-tellvibe at home is increasingly fraught with tension. Especially as Quinn is on my mind one hundred percent of the time and there has been many a moment I’ve had to pull myself up short from saying his name. There’s actually not all that much left of my life I can share with my parents anymore seeing as it has become all about him.
Throw in the fact my younger cousins have been bragging to Benji and Abbie that they have met ‘JT’s boyfriend’ and let’s just say there’s a lot of eggshells to walk on at home. I’ve overheard multiple arguments where my younger siblings beg for permission to meet Quinn while my parents just as strongly deny his very existence. I won’t say that doesn’t hurt a bit. Okay, a lot.
But the increasing distance between me and my family has not gone unnoticed which is probably why my parents corner me one night and beg me to come help them out at the church soup kitchen this Saturday. It’s something I used to love to do with them even though I haven’t volunteered for any church events in over a year. So I agree to go with them even though it means missing another family lunch with Gran.
We drop Benji and Abbie off at my grandparent’s house on Saturday morning and then head to the soup kitchen run by my dad’s church. It’s in a small suburban shopping strip not too far from Evergreen that I’ve never been to before.
This kitchen is bigger and brighter than the one in Morlee and Mum and Dad introduce me to the other volunteers as we get put to work. I’m given a vegetable peeler and sent to peel the stack of veggies on a stainless steel table in the middle of the room.
I start chatting with the other volunteers on veggie duty. I’ve never had any issues striking up conversations with other people and today’s no exception.
Eventually Mum moves to my side. We make small talk about school and final exams which are fast approaching. She asks about the Eastern Greys, and I tell her what I know which isn’t all that much as yet but I appreciate the fact she is making an effort.
I end up on serving duty beside my dad and I get to see him in action on this side of the fence where he really shines. Unfortunately, I’ve missed out on seeing this side of him for a long while now but he’s such a natural with the people who come to the soup kitchen for help. I see his kindness and care for those less fortunate and I both admire it whilst wishing I got to have some of this side of him at home too.
We step out onto the footpath after lunch, and I have to accept that working alongside my parents today has been fun and a good way to reconnect with them.
“Thank you for coming with us today, son,” Dad says, glancing at me with a smile.
“I had fun.”
“You always loved helping out at the soup kitchen back home,” Mum adds, a wistful note to her words.
“You know you’re welcome to come help out any time,” Dad continues easily and for the first time I don’t actually feel that pressure to recommit to the church from him. Just an easy acceptance that this is one area we both see eye to eye on.
We’re about to move on when I hear my name called from behind in a soft, very familiar voice, one that has my heart wedging in my throat.
“JT? Is that you?”
I turn on the spot to see Gran stepping out onto the footpath with her mobility aid, Amy at her side. My heart is pounding a mile a minute as my eyes instantly look for him, glancing up to read the name of the restaurant we’re standing in front of as the one we were meant to be meeting at today.
“He’s inside paying the bill for me,” Gran adds, obviously noting my darting eyes. “We missed you at lunch today, but Quinn told me you were volunteering at the soup kitchen. How lovely.”
My parents still beside me. If they hadn’t known who these people were before Gran’s innocent words, they certainly know now. But I don’t have time to think about that when my boyfriend suddenly steps into view, clutching Gran’s handbag in his arms. His eyes collide with mine and the smile hits them just before he steps towards me.
“JT,” he says. He’s still on his way, reaching out to touch me before movement at my back has him stalling. Quinn looks over my shoulder, face paling as he comes to a swift stop in front of me.
“Hi,” I stammer, the first words I’ve been able to make out as my two worlds suddenly smash into each other out here on the pavement. The silence is awkward and deafening but I gather my courage from somewhere deep within and clear my throat.
