Page 49 of One Little Problem
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t date,” I rushed to add. “You shouldn’t hold back just because I need more time—”
“Ryan, you’re allowed to take all the time you need.”
We were having a serious discussion here, but I still rolled my eyes. At myself, not at my dad. “Yeah, yeah, feel my feelings, this is a safe space, it’s all valid, la de da,” I said, waving a hand. “It’s been years,” I repeated. “I should be okay.” Seemed like I had enough time.
“Maybe it doesn’t matter how many years passed,” Dad mused. “The reality is still different than the concept no matter when it happens. And don’t cut me off, I should say this more than once, so you know that it’s okay if you don’t feel ready. Things are different now, they feel real. I feel confident that I’m ready to move on and your reaction to that might not be positive or not all positive.”
My reaction to that? Mostly nervous hysterical laughter. I wasn’t sure I could handle that, but I also wasn’t sure I could handle him finally being ready to move on and then not moving on because of me.
“Can we revisit lying?” I was mostly joking. Unless he said yes.
“Ryan,” he said firmly. Which meant no.
“Maybe you could just not tell me about it?” Technically not lying, or maybe lying by omission.
“Oh yeah, that sounds like a really great idea.” Dad’s sarcastic voice was a bit more subtle than mine but just as cutting. “It won’t come back to bite either one of us in the ass.”
“I’m just saying, don’t swear off women or anything.” Wow, never thought I’d give that advice. “Wow, never thought I’d give that advice,” I voiced out loud. The moment needed to be recognized. Maybe I should mark the calendar.
“Get back on topic,” Dad instructed gently.
Right. “Well, just, don’t do anything rash on my account yet,” I instructed or begged. “Give me a little more time, let me think some more.” I forced myself to calm down and speak evenly, so he could know how much I meant this next part. “I don’t want to hold you back. I would hate myself.” Wait. “Oh crap.”
I had heard basically those exact words before or at least the sentiment behind them. Except I hadn’t been saying them, someone was saying them to me. That’s what Luke kept trying to tell me and I didn’t want to hear it. Because I didn’t agree, I thought that was crazy but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real for him. Could be true. That wasn’t a great position to be in, to feel like you were the one keeping someone you loved from something that they needed or wanted. A burden. A barrier.
“Huh?” Dad asked. The oh crap part confused him.
“No, I just realized something else. I have to go to freaking science camp.”
“JUST NOW?” Dad hollered. “THE APPLICATIONS WERE DUE—" Oh my god, he was so dramatic. I already got accepted; he saw the acceptance letter.
“No, I mean, I really am going.” I sounded a little resigned, but it was like the last of my resolve faded anyway when hearing the words out loud. I really would go.
“Okay, good.” He chuckled and gave me a wry look. “Glad you finally got to the point you should have been at all long.”
“Sometimes it takes me a while.” Man, Luke and I were good together. We could both be giant idiots. “Don’t give up on me yet.”
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder and regarded me fondly. “Never.” Bonding moment over, or not, as he apparently decided that wasn’t enough. “I mean it. No matter who comes into my life, you’re always going to be most important.”
Cool. Maybe there was some point to talking this out after all. I mean, I already knew that, duh, Dad and I were a team and nothing could change that. Fear could be pretty persistent sometimes though. Wasn’t really used to that. I was too worried about all the words I might have to say, giving voice to all the doubt and fear, that I forgot about what he might have to say. Familial relationships, relationship relationships, friendships, they were all a two-way street.
There had been a time I didn’t want to burden my dad with my small-town gay kid problems. Not because I wanted to hide it or he wouldn’t understand but because sometimes he had enough to deal with. My usual response to any problem was to handle it myself, to figure things out myself, to act alone. It didn’t have to be like that anymore. I forgot that sometimes.
I was a bright kid. There were lots of things I could learn.
* * *
Luke
Until I got into the kitchen and my mom looked like she’d been expecting me, I didn’t think about the cookies being a trap. I just let the sugary smell guide me, stomach taking the wheel. Mom used to bake when things upset her, guess she was bringing that back. Hey, things at home might be awkward but at least I’d get snacks.
I grabbed a cookie but hissed and dropped it. Too hot. Maybe I could just come back when they were cooler? I moved to leave but she stopped me. Ugh. I was taking, like, half the sheet when they were ready; I was going through a breakup, I was allowed to eat all the cookies.
“We should talk,” Mom said. Not like I could say no when she had all the bargaining chips. Metaphorically. There were no chocolate chips or any other kind of chip in the peanut butter cookies currently cooling. Also, this totally wasn’t fair. The last desserts were so confusing. Dessert should never be confusing. The red velvet cakes tasted good but looked so sinister. Just thinking about them almost made me shudder.
What kind of world was I living in where I didn’t even understand dessert anymore? I stared wistfully at the cookies. “Us talking hasn’t been going so well lately,” I told my mom, taking my mind off baked goods for a moment.
“Luke, honey, this is tough on me.” Her voice sounded hurt, so I looked up and saw worry on her face.
