by Talya Andor
Soren smirked. "So long as you're not a Jack-ass." He laid his fork down and looked at Lucas very seriously. "If you mean it, I'll call my mom right now and see if I can arrange it."
Lucas took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's do it."
Eleven
Leaves crunched underfoot as Soren led Lucas up to the front door of the Wilkenson house. Lucas kept his eyes forward, resolve and anxiety mixing the most peculiar cocktail in his churning stomach. He wanted to glance back at his car, parked sedately on the curb, but he was afraid if he looked, he would drag Soren back with him and drive somewhere that didn't involve the possibility of parents or uncomfortable dinner conversation.
"God, this is awkward." Lucas grimaced. "I've never done this before."
The trees above them shivered with a blast of wind and rattled furiously, shaking their leaves. A few red-gold leaves were plucked loose and whipped past them.
Soren stopped, his grip on Lucas bringing them both to a halt. "You haven't? Honestly?"
"I haven't."
"Oh." Soren's fingers curled around his. "I didn't know."
Lucas smiled wryly. "That's okay," he said. He leaned against Soren, staring up at the solidity of the front door, green paint, white trim, surrounded by a neat two-story brick house that the Dayes would have been delighted to visit, if he were dating Soren's sister. "Is there anything I shouldn't do? I mean…"
"Just be yourself. You think that's not enough?"
"Well…" Nervously Lucas ran a hand over his hair again. He had never met anyone's mother before, and he was feeling the pressure. He was certain that Mrs. Wilkenson was bound to hate him for the simple fact that he was with her son. "What I mean is, should I avoid touching you?"
"Oh." Soren blinked up at him, looking lost. Then he lifted Lucas's knuckles to his lips, just barely grazing over the still-reddened skin there. "I don't think there's any point in avoiding it. If she's going to get used to this, she's going to have to get used to the whole package."
"Hmm." Lucas looked back to the imposing front of the Wilkenson house and then gave Soren a half smile. "If you say so. I don't want to make anything worse for you."
"I'm looking at it this way," Soren said, as they resumed their passage up the walkway. "If she's not going to be okay with this no matter what, then a little hand-holding isn't going to make it any worse. But if she's got any chance of accepting it, she may as well see us being honest from the very start."
Lucas bumped him with his hip. "How'd you get so smart?"
Soren bumped him back and they began to scuffle and clung to each other, laughing. At that point, the front door opened.
An older woman stood in the doorway, perhaps in her mid- to late forties, and Lucas knew from her face and the long, dark hair that cascaded around her shoulders that she was Soren's mother. She was somewhat shorter than her son, the similarity of her features to his blurred by age and femininity, but she was lovely, with the same oval face and large, beautifully shaped blue eyes. She wore a dark blue knitted sweater that set off her eyes to advantage, and a long floral-patterned skirt. "Um…welcome," she said, appearing taken aback.
They hastily separated and climbed the five stone steps that led to the door.
Soren stammered out introductions and Lucas extended his hand, sizing up his opponent. She seemed like a nice woman, but with mothers that could be deceiving. "Nice to meet you," he said.
Claire Wilkenson shook his hand, her blue eyes equally appraising. There was a tightness around the corner of her eyes. "So you're Soren's boyfriend. How long?"
"Uh, a couple months," Lucas replied. "But I've known him longer, six months or so…I mean, over a year." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Claire's eyes narrowed.
"Which is it? Six months, or a year?"
"Over a year, actually," Soren said, eyes darting between Lucas, then his mother. "When we moved up from Eugene and I started working at Starbucks, remember?"
Lucas gave her a winning smile. "Time passes so quickly." He didn't know exactly how much Claire knew about her son's online interactions, or if knowing that had been a catalyst of their relationship would make her throw a fit.
"Are they here?" a man's voice called from the other room. "Bring them into the kitchen!"
Soren let out a tiny sigh beside him and Lucas sought his hand. A fine tremor went through his fingers, and Soren's hand closed around his. Claire had already turned to lead them to the kitchen and her heels clicked staccato over the polished wooden floor.
"It'll be fine," Lucas murmured to him as they followed. "See, I think she's charmed by me already." That provoked a weak grin.
As they entered the kitchen—a warm and cheery place with a central island and a rack of copper pots hanging above—Alan Wilkenson straightened from the stove and turned to greet them, laying a potholder on the green marble-topped counter. He was older, approaching his fifties, with a creased forehead and kindly, handsome face, thin mouth bracketed with smile lines. His dark brown hair was thinning and turning silver, but his brown eyes were youthful and they regarded Lucas with a friendly, open expression.
"You must be…"
"Lucas Daye," Soren said, as Lucas squeezed his hand and let go to extend it to his father. "Dad, this is my boyfriend. Lucas, this is Alan Wilkenson, my father."
"Ah, yes. Lucas," Alan said, taking his hand and clasping it in a firm handshake. He eased off when he noticed Lucas wince. "What's wrong?"
"Burned my hand…"
Soren was at his elbow, taking his hand and examining it. "It still hurts? You need some Advil? "
"It's fine," Lucas said dismissively, as Alan apologized. "It's like a sunburn now."
"Should have warned me," Alan said, looking chagrined.
"I can get some ibuprofen," Claire said from the kitchen door.
"I'm fine," Lucas repeated, and dredged up a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wilkenson."
They milled in the kitchen for a moment, mired in awkwardness. After a moment, Claire approached the central island, uncorking the dark green wine bottle that stood beside a couple of glasses. "Wine, for either of you?"
"No," Soren murmured.
"I'm underage," Lucas admitted cheerfully, knowing that Soren was too, and wondering at the offer. "But thanks."
"Oh, come on," Alan said, turning back to the stove and the simmering pot above it. "We're all en famille, here."
"I'm driving," Lucas said seriously, like the responsible young adult that he was. He thought he saw Soren's lips quirk, then he left Lucas's side for the wide round table nestled in the corner nook of the kitchen. Beyond it was a beautiful bay window seat with a green-patterned slip cover. The table had already been set, and a salad awaited them in a large, simply elegant wooden bowl.
Claire poured herself a glassful, downed about half of it, then poured one for her husband.
"Come on, Alan, we may as well start with the salad," Claire said, but she lingered at the central island.
"What? No pre-dinner conversation?" Alan exchanged a look with his wife, and put the lid on the stovetop pot, turning the heat down. "I'm coming, I'm coming."
"It's a week night," Claire said to them all, "and Angie took the rest of our kids to Jantzen Beach, but they're not going to be out all night. So you'll forgive us for not delaying."
"Of course," Lucas replied. It suited him just fine; he still had homework to take care of, after all.
She swirled her wine around in the glass, focusing on the ruby crests of the liquid swishing inside the crystal. "How did you say you met Soren, again?" Alan slid into the chair beside her, glancing at his wife before offering them all a smile.
"Well, we work at the same Starbucks." Lucas glanced at Soren. The time for twenty questions had come.
Soren looked back, offering him a small smile.
"Start the salad, Soren, dear." Claire's blue eyes returned to Lucas across the table. "What do you do, exactly? You'll forgive me for asking…Soren hasn't told me much a
bout you. Well, anything, really."
The salad tongs clattered in the bowl as Soren set it down with a thump between them. "Mother…"
Claire raised a brow. "Well, you just told me about Lucas a few days ago, dear, and you haven't told me about him."
"I'm a full-time student." Lucas reached for the salad tongs and began to portion out his share. "Business major at the University of Portland. I'm also a part-time shift supervisor at the St. Johns Starbucks, not far from here."
"Oh, a business major!" Alan said. "I hear from Angie they've got a got a good curriculum."
Lucas nodded. "Yes, I think so." And his father thought so, more was the pity, or he could have immersed himself in something that suited him better…whatever that was.
"It sounds like you're on the right track," Claire said, and there was a hint of approval in her voice. She looked at her son.
"Mom, don't start."
"What?" Claire protested. "Business major—that's very good! I'm sure Lucas won't have any trouble finding a job out in the real world."
Lucas took Soren's hand, stilling the flicker of self-consciousness that came over him the way Claire's eyes went immediately to their interlaced fingers. Soren had said to act like himself, after all. "We'll see," he said. "I'm starting to think I should have picked a major that was a bit higher-paying, like computer science, but I didn't really think I had the aptitude."
"Engineering is the way to go." Alan tipped his wine back. "It's a degree that's always useful, especially any kind of electrical engineering, these days. I'm still hoping to coax Ricky into it."
"Is Soren moving in with you?" Claire said, sitting up very straight in her chair.
"Mom!"
"I have a right to know!"
Lucas squeezed Soren's fingers, hoping to bleed out some of the tension. "Well, considering that we've only been dating for a couple of months, Mrs. Wilkenson, I can't say the subject has come up," he said, giving her his best harmless smile. "Besides, there's only four rooms in our apartment, and right now they're all taken." Not that Lisa didn't count as a fifth addition, or that any of them would be unhappy to see Jack go.
"So, Lucas." Alan gave his wife a look and then poured them both more wine. "What led you to the University of Portland?"
"Are you Catholic?" Claire said.
Soren's hand tensed in his and he moved as if to pull his fingers away. Lucas tightened his grip.
"I was raised Catholic," Lucas said, looking her right in the eye. Claire looked brittle, almost fragile, and he realized in that instant that her reactions weren't about him at all. No one was going to be good enough to come in and turn Soren gay—if that was, in fact, what she'd convinced herself.
Claire let out a tinkling little laugh and Lucas noticed Alan give his wife another look, a warning one. "'Raised Catholic.' What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that, as I grew older, I began to disagree with Catholic dogma for many reasons." Lucas was perfectly capable of defending himself on this point, as he'd been doing so since ten and his mother's death when he had quit going to church. "One of the reasons is their stance on homosexuality."
"It is not a stance—"
"Mom, please—"
The oven timer sounded.
"Ah, dinner is ready," Alan said, sounding relieved. "Claire, I think that's a conversation for another time, don't you?" He patted her knee and rose, taking her wine glass away.
"Lucas, I'm curious," Claire put forth in a reasonable tone. "What do your parents think about this whole thing?"
Lucas suppressed a groan. This was going to be a long night.
It passed by slowly, yet quicker than he had expected in the end.
Dinner wore on like Chinese water torture, slow, relentless, more annoying than any degree of actual excruciation. Lucas decided even before dinner's end that Alan was likeable, and trying. Claire, on the other hand, was ruthless. After interrogating Lucas on his views on Catholicism and extracting the fact that he was bisexual and his parents were unaware of it, she had begun to direct her questions to Soren, then ultimately gave up the thread of conversation for the attraction of the fine cut of beef Alan had served. Along with that, she had taken refuge in wine.
Side by side on the sofa out in the front room, Lucas took Soren's hand. Alan, at least, were treating him like an adult. When Claire had found out Lucas was open to dating men and women, she had turned a look on him that asked Why aren't you with a girl right now, then, and not my son? Shortly after that she had retrieved her wine glass from where Alan had made off with it.
"Dessert soon, then you can go," Soren murmured to him, fidgeting.
Lucas pressed his hand down, trying to still the jittering knee beneath their linked hands. Soren gave him an apologetic smile and looked down, quelling it.
"I like your dad," Lucas said. "Don't worry about your mom. I don't think it's me she's angry with right now. I just make a convenient target."
"Yeah." Soren concentrated on his lap, then picked at a thread on the edge of the couch beneath him. "So you said you've got a lot of classes tomorrow, huh?"
"I've got a busy schedule this week. I wasn't lying about that, you know. It was fun to go clubbing with you, but that's probably going to be the most fun I have for a while."
"I didn't say you were lying. I thought I was familiar with your schedule, but it gets jumbled up in my head between school and work. And you're working tomorrow too, right?"
"Closing shift." Lucas wanted to kiss the worry lines from Soren's forehead, settling instead for stroking back stray hairs, chasing them back into the main mass of his ponytail.
"Damn…I wanted…" Soren looked around the front room, a frustrated look crossing his face.
Lucas did kiss him now, pressing his lips to the temple closest to him. "I know. Me too." There was fat chance of that, he thought, with Claire on the warpath. He was astonished that she hadn't questioned his sexual history, whether he was HIV-negative, and exactly how far he'd gone with her son.
Alan returned from the bathroom, looking around the front room. "Claire's not back yet?"
"No…" Soren sighed.
Alan gave them a nod and disappeared down the hall again. He returned quickly, his friendly face creased in a grim sort of look. "Excuse me, Lucas, Soren. I'm afraid there's not going to be any dessert tonight, but maybe we can do it again sometime…have dinner, though not exactly like this."
"Is Mom…"
"I apologize, Lucas. My wife is indisposed. She's…had a difficult week."
"It's not a problem," Lucas replied, wondering if it had been the wine or an emotional breakdown. "Thanks for having me." He stood, and Soren held on to his hand and rose with him.
Alan hovered at the end of the hallway, looking uncertain, then he looked away.
"I want to go with you," Soren murmured, leaning into him. "But I know I'd better not invite myself over when you're so busy."
Lucas pressed his fingers, controlling a wince of pain. Still tender. "You know you're always welcome, but if your mother is already mad—"
"Dad, I need to go to the library. I, uh, might be back kind of late."
Lucas smiled. Soren was a terrible liar. His excuse might look more convincing if he wasn't holding onto him like a lifeline that would reel him out of this shipwreck.
Alan scrutinized them both and Soren's lean body stiffened beside Lucas. "If you want to stay overnight at your boyfriend's house, it's your business. As long as you're keeping up with work and school, that's all I can ask. Just be safe." He finished up rather awkwardly, but it looked heartfelt nonetheless.
"Thanks, Dad." Soren looked between the two of them. "It's…it's good to have the option, but I guess I'd better not. Gotta be responsible and get the homework done, and all that. What about Mom?"
"I'll take care of her," Alan said. He frowned. "Lucas, please don't take this personally, my wife…Claire isn't normally like this. I think Soren's revelation was more of a shock than it should have been
. I do hope you'll come over again sometime."
Lucas nodded solemnly. "It's all right, I was kind of thinking along the same lines…I was a little hesitant to come over tonight because of that, I think." He recognized as he said it that it was true. He hadn't even realized, before, that had been one of his reasons. "I would like to take you up on that, in the future."
"I…I'll be right back in." Soren said and squeezed Lucas's hand.
Alan gave him one last, somewhat awkward smile and disappeared for the kitchen again.
Lucas sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, imagining Claire crying into cups of coffee in the kitchen, leaning over the counter and a cake only half-cut. It was always hardest for the eldest child, he had heard once, and Soren had gone and compounded that by being gay.
Soren drew in a long breath, shuddered, and released it slowly.
"Come here," Lucas said, and folded Soren into his arms. Soren sighed again, his lithe frame still wired with tension.
"That was about as bad as I thought it would be," Soren said, nestling closer in his embrace.
Lucas stroked hair away from his face. "Me too," he said with a short laugh.
At length, they separated and regarded one another for a moment. Lucas knew he ought to leave, but didn't want to abandon Soren.
"Did you hear that?" Lucas smirked, socking Soren lightly on the arm. "'More of a shock than it should have been…' Dude, your dad knew you were gay."
"Don't call me 'dude.'" Soren punched him right back.
"Ow. My burn."
"Your burn was on the other side, and I didn't even hit you on the hand!" Soren pinched Lucas, and that devolved into a brief scuffle before Lucas pulled Soren up against him and ended the tussle with a kiss.
"That's for now," Lucas said, and delivered another, longer kiss. "And that's for later. When we're all caught up, I'll give you as many as you want."
Soren's eyes lit up. "Best incentive to be productive, ever."
*~*~*
With coursework picking up and the continued rigors of work, Soren was happy that he and Lucas were able to make time for each other over the following weeks, whether it was walking together across campus, sharing lunch, or Soren staying overnight. Some of the nights when Soren had been headed out the door with a duffel over his shoulder, Claire had expressed displeasure that he was staying overnight, but he was relieved she hadn't tried to pass an edict against it.