“You gotta tell him!” Alycia urged with wide eyes. “Dad’d be so proud of you.”
I shook my head dismissively and stayed quiet. I would tell Dad someday; I just didn’t know when.
Alycia drove me home around nine and I found myself a little nervous to see Wesley. I hoped his day went well, but I had a strange feeling still. I fumbled getting the key in the lock with two bags of leftovers weighing down my arms. I pushed open the front door and caught it with my hip, holding it open. “Hi, I’m home! And I brought leftovers!” I shouted. The apartment was dimly lit and quiet. “Hello? Are you here?” I called out, setting the two plastic bags down on the kitchen counter. I peeked into the living room and saw Wesley sitting in the recliner holding a can of beer on the armrest. “Hi. What are you doing?” I asked, stepping in front of him with my hands on my hips.
“Nothing,” Wesley answered, shrugging. The TV was on but the sound was low and the light shadowed his face. There were six empty beer cans on the coffee table and Wesley finally looked up at me. “How was your Thanksgiving?” he asked, looking back at the quiet TV and taking a long drink of beer.
“It was good,” I answered, stepping closer to Wesley. “How was yours? What was your brother’s announcement?” My chest felt tight and my stomach was tied in knots. I tried to sound upbeat, but I’d had a despairing premonition following me all day. I felt like I sent Wesley into the lion’s den and it was foolish of me to think he would come out unharmed. But I tried to remain optimistic.
“He’s getting married,” Wesley said.
“Really? That’s great!” I shouted, clapping. “He’s getting….”
“We’re not invited,” he added and took another long drink.
My smile fell flat and I looked at Wesley blankly. “What? Why? What do you mean?”
Wesley finished the beer and tossed the can onto the coffee table with the others. He looked at the floor and shrugged. Then he narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “My parents don’t want us making a ‘mockery’ of Scott’s wedding.”
I stared at Wesley, unsure if I should believe what I heard. “What? But… what do you mean?”
“My dad—my fucking dad—he heard me and Scott talking. Scott said he hoped you could get time off school to go and my dad heard and started yelling—fucking screaming. In front of everyone. Every word out of his mouth was fag-this and fag-that and so I told him to fuck off and I left,” Wesley explained, balling his hands into fists.
“What? Wesley,” I murmured, stepping closer. He sat still, staring into his lap, his brows furrowed, and then he shook his head.
“Fuck this. I’m sick of it. My fucking parents…. So I’m not going. Fuck it. I don’t care anymore,” Wesley said, holding his head up with his hand and shutting his eyes.
Tears brimmed and I reached down and petted Wesley’s head. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” I felt guilty. If I hadn’t forced him to go, this wouldn’t have happened.
“What are you apologizing for? It’s not your fault. It’s my fucking parents’,” he said through clenched teeth.
“But… I made you go, even though you didn’t want to.”
“No, you didn’t. So don’t even think like that,” Wesley scolded, taking my hand and pulling me down on his lap. “If you can’t go, then I’m not going,” he said defiantly, wrapping his hands around my back and burying his face in my chest.
“Don’t say that,” I whispered, gently kissing the top of his head.
Wesley looked up at me quickly and shook his head. “No. I’ve made up my mind, Toren. If you can’t go, then I’m not going. There’s no room for argument here,” he said definitively, staring in my eyes.
“Wesley.”
“No. It’s my folks or us. That’s it,” he said, shaking his head. He rested his forehead on my chest again and I ran my fingers through his hair. “I’m just so fucking sick of this. Why won’t they get it? Why can’t they just be fucking happy for me?” he asked, his voice muffled by my chest.
“I’m sorry, Wesley. I’m so sorry. I’ll never make you do anything like that again. I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do,” I said, hugging his head tighter against my chest.
“I need another beer,” Wesley muttered, pulling away from my embrace. I looked at the coffee table and the seven empty cans and shook my head. “C’mon, just let me drink tonight.”
“You don’t need it. Let’s just go to bed and let this day be over,” I said, cradling his face in my hands. Wesley looked at me with lonely eyes and I kissed him warmly. “C’mon. Let’s just go to bed.”
Chapter 36
IT WAS the middle of December and holiday season was in full swing. I was working extra hours at the store because we opened early and closed late to accommodate the Christmas rush. I was also preparing for the end of the school semester, writing papers and studying for exams. But my mind was a jumble. Ever since Thanksgiving, Wesley seemed a little distant. Scott called and apologized for their parents’ outburst and Wesley was amicable, telling him not to worry about it. But I remembered the expression on his face that night and the way he clung to me like an abandoned puppy. I felt the wedge of his family’s intolerance between us and it was overwhelming at times. With everything running through my mind, I couldn’t concentrate on any one thing longer than ten minutes.
I looked at the kitchen table covered with books, papers, folders, and notebooks, and sighed. Wesley came up behind me and kissed the top of my head. He’d
