KEATON
Another Sunday. Another brunch with Dad.
Except nothing at all is the same. I’ve just had the loneliest two weeks of my life, and I don’t know where I’ll find the energy to make nice with my dad.
This time I’ve changed the venue. I had to get out of the Alpha Delt house. So when classes ended on Friday, I got into my car and drove down to New York for the weekend.
But, shit, even driving down 95 made me think of my outing with Luke. The last weekend I got away from school was so amazing.
This time there’s no sexfest and no drunken kisses. I crash at my father’s tiny midtown condo for the weekend. It’s where he sleeps when he doesn’t want to go back to Long Island after late nights at work.
On Sunday morning I walk all the way from Midtown to the Upper West Side. Our plan is to have Sunday brunch at Good Enough to Eat. The Hayworths know how to party. And this place has slices of bacon as thick as your hand. It’s almost good enough to cure my heartache.
Almost.
Two long weeks have passed since Luke’s arrest, and he’s still not really talking to me. Or sleeping with me. Or even looking me in the eye.
In fact, he’s avoiding the house altogether.
And so am I, if I’m honest. I catch my friends giving me the side-eye sometimes. It’s not like I think they’re worried about catching gay cooties or anything. It’s more like they can’t figure out what to say. Anyone with eyes can see that Luke and I are on the outs. But I guess they think you can’t use the same back slaps and tequila challenges to sweep away a breakup with a dude.
Although Tanner offered to take me out and get me drunk. And Dan Zimmer quite awkwardly offered his ear if I had any questions for him. “I could teach you the secret handshake,” he’d joked.
But I turned them down. I’m not in the mood for anyone to make me feel better, I guess. So my gloomy face continues to discourage questions. And I’m still getting glances that range from curious to worried.
And sometimes it’s Luke who is sneaking looks at me. On those rare occasions when we’re both around, I see the regret in his eyes. He’s not very good at hiding it.
I know he still wants me. I know he never stopped. But you can’t make someone get over their issues and love you. I know that he’s never had anyone trustworthy in his life, and I really want to be that person. But what if he’s just too broken to let me?
Luke is much like an abused stray. Okay, now I’m comparing the guy I like to a dog. But animals are my jam, so that’s actually a compliment from me. Anyway, you see these heart-wrenching videos of abused dogs who thrive with the right kind of attention. They gain weight, and their coats become glossy. If you believe YouTube, they’re the most loyal animals in the world.
But if you read enough animal-behavior literature, you know it doesn’t always end that way. Some dogs never get past their terror.
When I reach the corner of Columbus Avenue and West 85th, I’m already depressed. But I plaster on a pleasant face and cross the street to meet my dad.
Today’s the day when I will finally tell him how to steer himself off the exit ramp of my life. So at least I have a plan.
It’s a warm day in early May, so I scan the outdoor tables first. And—shit! My mother is the first person I spot. She’s sitting there next to Dad.
I’m being tag-teamed. Awesome.
“Hey guys,” I say, straightening my spine. Whatever I can say to one parent, I suppose I can say to two.
“Keaton!” My mother pops out of her chair. “Hi, baby!”
I kiss her on the cheek and force myself to smile.
The tables are tight, and my dad is trapped beside her, so he offers his hand to shake. Like real men do.
To be fair, he hasn’t said a word about my little revelation. I honestly don’t know what he thinks about me right now. But it doesn’t change my message.
I take a seat, and the waiter swoops in. He has an Aussie accent and hipster glasses. He’s pretty cute. Stuff like that just pops into my head all the time now, and I don’t try to chase it out like I used to. So at least I have that going for me.
“I’ll have the Lumberjack,” I say before he can even offer me a menu. “And coffee. Thanks.”
My parents order, and then we all just stare at each other for a second.
“How’ve you been?” Dad asks finally.
“All right. The end of the term is always hard.”
“I hope you’re getting enough sleep,” Mom says.
“Plenty, actually.” I clear my throat. Sleep isn’t really an issue now that I’m alone in my bed every night.
“Also…” I decide to get it all out in the open before we eat. “I got this last week.” I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket and unfold it. I hand it to my father and watch as he scans it.
Welcome to the Orca Expedition, it says. Departing from Valparaíso, Chile, on May 19th.
“I got in, and I want to go,” I say. “It doesn’t cost anything…”
“That was never the issue,” Dad points out.
“Just saying.” I sigh. “You wanted me to get a degree in biology.”
“Or chemistry. Or finance,” Dad adds.
“Finance was never happening,” I tell him. “It’s not the least bit interesting to me. And I’d be terrible at it. I really like biology, though. And I want to study animal behavior in graduate school after I leave Darby.”
His shoulders sag. “But why? A PhD will take five years if you’re fast and seven if you’re slow. That’s pushing back your employment at Hayworth Harper for years.”
“That’s just it, Dad. I don’t want to work for you. I love research. I’m going to be an academic.”
He groans. “Swear to God, can’t you just be gay? Do you have to be an academic, too? It’s like a dagger through the heart.”
My jaw opens as wide as a python’s before a meal.
The silence at the table drags on for several seconds, until Mom finally speaks. “Honey, is it serious with that boy?” she asks.
“No,” I mumble. “But I wish it was.”
Mom blinks.
Dad visibly swallows.
I search for the right words, but luckily the cute waiter returns. He puts a mug of coffee down in front of me. “Thank you,” I say with genuine gratitude. Because I really need something to do with my hands.
“Keat,” my mother says, covering his hand. “Talk to us.”
“What do you want me to say?” I awkwardly wrap my hands around the mug. “That I’m gay? Because…yeah. I think I am.”
Dad pounces on the I think part. “So you’re not sure?”
I take a breath. Then I release it in a fast burst. “No, I am sure,” I admit. “I guess I was trying to soften it up for you guys. But I’m certain about this. My relationship with—” I stop, rephrasing. “Being in a relationship with a guy gave me all the answers I didn’t even know I was searching for.”
Mom nods slowly. “Annika…?” She lets the question hang, but I’m not entirely sure what she’s asking.
“Annika didn’t know,” I say with a shrug. “I actually haven’t even told her yet. But if you’re worried that I was, I dunno, using her, or leading her on…I wasn’t.” My tone is firm, because it’s the total truth. “I loved her, and our relationship was real to me. But there was always something…missing, I guess. Something that didn’t feel entirely right.”
This time Dad is the one nodding. “It always felt very platonic to us,” he says grudgingly.
I eye him in surprise. “Seriously? All you did was talk about how much you wanted us to get married.”
He shrugs. “Because she’s a wonderful girl, and she’ll make a wonderful wife to some lucky man. But if we’re all being honest right now, your mother and I did notice that your relationship seemed to lack passion.”
Mom sighs. “We did notice.”
I have to smile. “And you couldn’t have filled me in on that?”
They both break into nervous laughter.
I take a gulp of coffee, then set down the mug again. “I can’t believe how cool you’re being about all this.”
Dad arches a brow. “Did you think we’d disown you?” he says dryly. “Who do I look like, your uncle Chris?”
Mom is quick to come to her brother’s defense. “Christopher didn’t disown Madeline! He just froze her trust fund until she completed her rehab program.”
My cousin Maddie broke her back a few years ago and got hooked on painkillers. Uncle Chris wasn’t thrilled. Fortunately, she’s clean now.
I guess I won’t point out that my father just compared my sexuality to a drug addiction. You have to pick your battles. “So you’re not disowning me,” I tease.
Dad rolls his eyes. “For your sexual orientation, no, Keaton. For your betrayal? I’m still considering it.”
“Keat!” Mom chides, lightly swatting his shoulder.
“What if you came to work for the finance department after this expedition docks?” he suggests hopefully.
Somehow I knew he’d ask this. “I’m back in mid-July,” I admit. “But I don’t want the internship. I just don’t want it. And we both know I don’t deserve it. But I know someone who does.”
“You want me to hire Bailey?” He hands the page back to me. “I am pretty sure they already made him an offer.”
“Really?” This is a detail I hadn’t heard. “He turned it down?”
“I’ll ask Bo.” Dad pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen.
“Is this trip dangerous?” Mom asks. She’s taking a turn with my Chile letter now.
“Not really,” I hedge. “It’s on a research boat in the ocean. But we’re not diving with sharks, Mom. We’d be looking for a new species of whale.”
“A new species?” She makes a skeptical face.
“I know, right? There’s a strange kind of killer whale that people have reported once in a while over fifty years. But it’s never been filmed or tagged. This expedition aims to prove that it exists.”
“How is that more important than curing diabetes?” my father asks.
“I never said it was. But my interests are my interests. And nobody ever told you what to study.”
“The hell they didn’t.” He snorts. “You think your grandfather was an easy man? He used to dig through my school bag for corrected tests and berate me for each missed math problem.”
“And you think that’s horrible?” I challenge him. “Because when you parse through my credit card charges to comment on my life, it’s kind of the same.”
He flinches. “You’re an adult, Keaton. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was checking up on you.”
You were. I bite this criticism back, though, because it won’t help me get what I want. “I’m going to Chile. And then graduate school. I’m sorry if you wanted me to take over the company someday. That’s a nice idea, but I don’t think it’s in anyone’s best interest.”
He sighs. Then his phone chimes, and he picks it up. “Bo seems to think that Luke wanted the internship but didn’t think he could make it work. Bo offered him an unpaid position.”
“Oh.” I feel a pain right between my ribs for Luke. A job he wants but can’t afford? That’s just cruel. “Luke can’t work an unpaid internship. He barely has enough money right now to eat. He works late-night hours every weekend just to make the rent.”
“Isn’t there financial aid for that?” my mother asks.
“He has a full academic scholarship. But it only covers tuition. And his mother calls every couple of weeks asking him for money.”
My father sits back in his chair, a disgusted look on his face. “What kind of mother asks her kid for money?”
“His kind.”
Dad picks up his phone and starts tapping again.
“Honey, at the table?” my mother complains.
“Just a sec,” he says. “I’m telling Bo to offer that kid an actual summer job and one of our corporate studios in Hoboken.”
I wonder if Luke will kill me for interfering? Then again, what difference does it make? He’s not currently talking to me. If he gets this job, he’ll be better off and still not talking to me.
Yup. Worth it.
The waiter puts a plate down in front of me, overflowing with scrambled eggs, two big pancakes with strawberry butter and two thick slices of bacon.
Things are looking up. And let’s face it, everything wrong in my life falls into the category of First World problems.
So I pick up my fork and tuck in.
As we’re finishing breakfast, my mom talks me into visiting the Vermeer exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with her. “Come on, any good gay son would look at art with his mother.”
I practically spray my coffee on the table. But since my parents are taking my career change—not to mention my sexuality—much better than I thought they would, I agree to go with her anyway.
By the time I get back to Darby, it’s evening already. I climb the stairs to the third floor with the usual amount of trepidation. Lately, I’m always listening for Luke’s key in the lock, so I can accidentally appear on the landing at the same moment.
Subtle of me, I know.
Tonight, though, I hit it just right. Luke is walking out of our bathroom and unable to reach the safety of his closed bedroom door before I arrive. “Hi,” I say quietly.
“Hi.” He jams his hands in his pockets. “If you had anything to do with the job offer I just got, I appreciate it.”
“What job offer?” I say stiffly.
He rolls his amazing dark eyes.
“Fine. Go ahead and yell at me some more. I may have nudged my father into checking into your summer application. But it’s only because I care about you.”
Luke’s gaze drops to the floor. “Thank you,” he says so quietly that I almost can’t hear. “I’m sure I don’t really deserve it.”
And before I can argue, he goes into his room and closes the door.
Two more torturous weeks pass. I’m not someone who gives up easily, but it’s starting to look like this time I don’t have a choice. Luke is still keeping me at arm’s length, and I leave for Chile tomorrow.
It might be time to call it.
“No way,” Annika’s outraged voice exclaims out of the speakerphone. She’s keeping me “company” while I pack for my expedition, and clearly she’s not happy with the conclusions I’ve reached. “You’re not calling it, Keaton. You care about this guy.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t care about me,” I protest.
She snorts loudly. “Ha! Of course he cares about you. Why else is he avoiding you this hard? He’s running from his feelings.”
I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation, but I can’t deny that it feels nice to talk to someone about it. Judd and I are barely speaking, and while I’m on good terms with Tanner and the others, it’s not like we sit around talking about my newfound gayness.
I’d been nervous as hell the day I told Annika, but she was so immediately supportive that I almost feel stupid for thinking she might not be. She’s my best friend, and her warm response to my news only proves that she’ll always be that.
“Maybe. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re not together.” I’ve been trying to chip away at Luke’s defenses ever since his arrest, to no avail. He’s a stubborn man, and it’s obvious the events of the last month not only embarrassed him, but sent him right back to his default state of pure distrust.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” I say glumly. “And he hasn’t even said goodbye yet.”
“Yet,” she echoes. “I’m sure he will.”
I’m not sure at all. These days, Luke’s either holed up in the library or working at Jill’s. He’s so determined to keep his distance from me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t come home tonight at all.
“It’s over, Ani. I don’t know what else to do to get through to him. He’s never going to fully open up to me. Or anyone, for that matter.”
She gives a soft sigh. “Oh babe. I’m sorry. But I still don’t think you should give up. Before he got arrested, he was opening up to you. Right? He was talking about himself, his feelings, that kind of stuff?”
“Yes, but feelings is a bit of a stretch. The only time I think he was truly transparent with me was when we were chatting on the—” I stop suddenly. The app.
That’s it, the answer. Luke has never been great with face-to-face interactions, outside the sexual variety. But when we were getting to know each other on Kink, he was so candid, so beautifully honest, it was one of the reasons I wanted to meet him.
“I have to go,” I tell my ex-girlfriend. “Just thought of something.”
“Oooh! What’s the plan?”
“Not a plan, really. I’ll fill you in later.”
After we hang up, I tear off a sheet of notebook paper and start scribbling. My final message to him, this man I never expected to fall for, is short and sweet.
L—I’m leaving tomorrow and so I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m hoping this isn’t a forever goodbye. Really hoping that. For now, I’m giving you the space you so obviously need. But I have one request. Just one, and I promise it’s not insanely unreasonable.
Don’t unmatch me on Kink.
Love,
KHIII
Then I slide it under his door and hope for the best.
