by F N Manning
I only got part of the story out. I wanted to tell him everything then. My sharing mood was over because now I was dreading our next meeting. I thought I’d been ready to talk to my dad. He’d spout bullshit excuses, I’d yell, things would get somewhere. I hadn’t been ready for what he had to say. I’d tried to tell Cal everything and had fucked that up. Did it even matter? Relationship troubles were the least of my worries.
Or maybe they were the source of them. Weren’t relationship troubles all I had to look forward to now whether I was with Cal or not? Shit. That probably wasn’t fair. The words bipolar disorder rattled around in my brain, and I couldn’t shake them loose. I wanted to get on my bike and drive far away. I wanted to… I don’t know. They were probably understandable reactions, being scared and sad and angry, but all of that filtered through the ton of stuff I knew about dad and the little I knew of bipolar disorder and made freaking out seem like the wrong response. Like if I could act calm and collected it wouldn’t touch me. I wouldn’t have it too.
It hadn’t been the right time to tell Cal, but once I saw him, I couldn’t keep it in. And fuck, this would be great. Hey Cal, you know how our relationship is already boned? Well, I might have an incurable disease that will make being with me even harder, isn’t that great?
I just woke up and was too tried to be angry. My thoughts warred between my conversations with Cal and my dad, and I didn’t really want to think about either of them but knew I would anyway as I hadn’t been able to think of much else the past few days. When I entered my kitchen, my mother rushed around getting her things together while I went straight for the coffee.
I might as well get this conversation over with. “Why are you so cool with him being back in our lives?” I asked my mom.
It was the first time we’d talked in nearly a week. After dad told me, there had been a lot of anger. How could she keep something so big from me? I had yelled, she had accepted it all calmly and that just made it worse because it felt like I was being crazy and that was exactly the last thing I wanted to feel like at the moment for obvious reasons.
That coupled with her complete lack of remorse made for a tense, uncomfortable week. She stopped and sighed at my question. “It’s probably because I never wanted him out of your lives.” She paused then added, “Since we’re talking, I’d like to point out that there’s no guarantee you inherited it and with medications and—”
“Weren’t you worried about him being dangerous or something?” I interrupted to ask.
“Most people with mental illness aren’t a threat to others.” She said it softly, like it was important I understood.
I ignored the gentle tone. “Wow, that’s some maternal instinct.”
“Hey, my parents are divorced too, asshole.” Huh. I kinda forgot about that. Grandma had remarried before I was born, and grandpa died when I was a baby, so her second husband was the only grandpa on her side that I remembered. “And if there was a concern, we could have done supervised visits.”
“So you did want him around? That makes him an even bigger dick than I thought.”
“No, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want him in the house if he wasn’t going to get help.” Yeah, that made sense.
“I missed him when he was gone. You should have told me that was stupid.”
She smiled. “It’s not stupid to miss your dad, babe.”
“It is if he was an asshole. You never said anything.” She’d never painted him as a villain or a sick guy who was too stubborn to get help.
“I didn’t want to be in the middle of it,” she explained. “I experienced that and it wasn’t pretty. I want you to have whatever relationship you want with him. That’s what I wanted then and I still do.”
I groaned. “This is one of those annoying situations where you’re not gonna tell me what to do because you think I need to figure it on my own.” I wasn’t quite ready to admit that maybe I understood dad’s perspective. I couldn’t just say ‘bring it in, dad, all’s forgiven,’ but I could relate to his decisions. I’d used the ignore it until it goes away and running away methods when it came to my problems too.
Mom nodded. “See, look at how smart you are.”
“You tell me what to do all the time, though,” I pointed out, “even when I don’t want you to.”
“You want me to give you advice?” Her face scrunched up in mock confusion. “Wasn’t it you who was questioning my decision-making abilities just the other day?”
That was why we hadn’t spoken. She wasn’t even ashamed.
“I still think you should have told me,” I replied firmly.
“And I’m still not sorry I didn’t,” she said right back. Then, she sighed. “I had my suspicions, sure, but I wasn’t going to tell you something that might not even be true.”
“You were right.”
She sighed again. She looked at the clock but didn’t move to leave. “I didn’t diagnose people then, I don’t diagnose people now, and it was personal, so I wasn’t objective. With your dad, I was so. I didn’t want to believe it. It was tough. I didn’t want you to worry about this. I still don’t.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
She didn’t respond to that, other than giving me a sympathetic look. She got up after a few moments, patted me on the shoulder, said a soft goodbye, and left me to my thoughts.
***
Cal
I didn’t weep with relief when my father’s hostility seemed to lessen. I knew his terms and what he wanted. Anything he said must be in regard to that end. The tough love approach hadn’t worked, so it was on to something new.
“You standing up to me about Brendan took courage,” Father said. Though damn, did I want to believe he meant that. He probably did. That was one of his negotiation tactics. Don’t outright lie but frame your argument according to what the other side wants to hear.
“Are you having a stroke?” I didn’t think one of the symptoms was sudden niceness but couldn’t come up with another explanation.
Father sighed. “While we might see things differently, I told you to help Brendan and that’s what you were doing.”
“Um, you didn’t answer the stroke question.”
He chuckled. “I’ve been going at this at all wrong, haven’t I?”
We were at his office. I’d been given my car back so that I could drive myself here after school. This gambit was highly obvious but, well, it was effective enough to forgive that. He wanted me to work here over the summer. Nicholas even got me a beverage. I would take the good in this. Katie said he was probably proud of me but wouldn’t say it. Of course he would, to get his way. Because I’d stumbled onto leverage.
Good grades and all my accomplishments didn’t reward me with my father’s approval. I started dating a boy and now the keys to the kingdom were mine. A hollow victory. He wasn’t giving me this because he thought I was worthy. I once wondered what the point of working so hard was when my parents would just buy things for me to ensure I succeeded. Now I was the one being bought.
“Excuse me, sir?” I asked, still eyeing him wearily, preparing for a trap.
He chuckled to himself. “You always swear you aren’t going to be your parents, then you are.” He shook his head. “I push you and push you because it builds character.”
“Uh, yes sir,” I agreed automatically but my tone sounded unsure. Weirdly, dad almost smiled at that.
“See, I didn’t believe it either when I was your age. But in your case, I thought it would work.” His shook his head. “I am proud of you. I never tell you that though, do I?”
Max’s plan made sense. To say we were broken up regardless of our relationship status. Yet I hadn’t done that. I knew next to nothing about being gay or bisexual or coming out, but it seemed like the time for lies was over. That was what happened in the closet. When you admitted who you were, then you were supposed to be able to tell the truth. Stop hiding. I may not have deliberately volunteered my sexuality,
but my parents knew about it. I wanted the honesty, the acceptance, all of it.
I hadn’t gotten it from my parents yet. I didn’t know if I would. But when I didn’t fold immediately and do what they said, that apparently earned me some credit. They weren’t trying to intimidate me anymore but to entice me into doing what they wanted. That last part was the problem. How did I make them consider what I wanted? Was that even possible?
“No, it hasn’t come up.” I frowned. Was there really no blow coming?
“You have potential, Cal,” he said severely but sincerely. “That’s why I push you.”
Life wasn’t a negotiation, but all conversations with my father were, so what did he hope to achieve with that concession? “What now? I asked. “I just fall in line?”
I expected a tight answer about the proper way to speak to him. Instead, he sighed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen my father look tired. Never let the competition see you at less than your best after all, and negotiation was a competition: people battling it out to see how won. Relationships weren’t supposed to be like that. Father didn’t do anything so juvenile as roll his eyes, but I had the feeling he wanted to. “Cal, I wanted you to see our perspective on this. We’ve been trying and failing to see yours.”
“I must have missed that part.” He raised an eyebrow at me, as if to say, you’re really pushing it, aren’t you? “Uh, go on, sir,” I added. I felt more confident but that didn’t mean I was insane.
“Your mother and I discussed it. It’s not like… homosexuality,” he said the word not like it was distasteful but uncomfortable, “is unheard of. But this…” He gestured vaguely. “I don’t understand it. It doesn’t make sense. You expect me to believe you’re gay now, that you don’t like women anymore?” I hesitated and he saw it. “So, you do still like women?”
I nodded.
My father never resembled a puppet before; his insides were made of steel instead of cotton fabric, but he was like a marionette with his strings cut. The fight went out of him and he slumped into his chair. “Good,” he said shortly. “Go date one.”
I stared incredulously for several moments, but it seemed it was that cut and dry to him. “It’s not that simple,” I said.
“It’s juvenile, stupid, reckless,” he fired off tiredly. “You have the choice. Make the right one.” Part of me went cold inside. The night of the incident with the police car he’d talked about appearances and all I’d wanted was to know what he thought. Well, I knew now. It might be weak, but I wished I didn’t. “That boy will be through with you soon enough anyway.”
Those words caught me by surprise, but I rallied quick. “Oh, is it time for a show of force now?” Trying to entice with honey was something he usually left to his subordinates anyway. He did better at demands and veiled threats.
“This isn’t a trick or a negotiation, Cal.”
“I thought life was a negotiation?”
“You do listen to me occasionally. Good. This is actually. It’s parental advice.” I laughed but he continued. “I don’t find it as amusing. I know you can do better, I know he’s not right for you.” He shook his head wryly. “I should keep my mouth shut to avoid sending you deeper into his clutches, but if there’s even a chance you’ll listen, I have to say it. He’s wrong for you.”
I shook off unease at the conviction in his voice. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Weary amusement colored his tone. “I never imagined I’d have to warn you about those kinds of boys and how they only wanted one thing.”
“Oh god, dad.” I didn’t approve of throwing money at problems until they went away, but I was tempted to make an exception for this conversation if my father was going to talk about lust or se—no, those words should never be in the same sentence as my father.
I almost died of embarrassed before my father continued. “Destruction,” he finished. His eyes were fierce. “They don’t care about anyone else. They like watching the world burn. It’s even better if they fool you and make you think they care.” He stared me down. “He’s not permanent. He doesn’t care. You take a gamble on him and you’ll end up with nothing.”
Father dismissed me. Or I left. I didn’t quite recall. I was too dazed by the minefield of our discussion. Everything he said shouldn’t be taken at face value. He had an agenda. He barely knew Max. I shouldn’t even consider what he said, but the words wouldn’t leave my mind.
Just because he had his own motivations, it didn’t mean my father was wrong. Or rather, I couldn’t say for sure. I couldn’t say that Max cared about me and our relationship meant something because I didn’t know. His feelings were a mystery. We were dating, but there was so much we didn’t say. He didn’t say. If he couldn’t tell me… maybe that was my answer.
It felt like I had nothing. I was falling and needed solid ground. Maybe Max could be that for me. There had to be a way to salvage things. My father was wrong; he had to be. If I didn’t have Max, I didn’t have anything.
***
Max
Last time I saw Cal, he’d been spoiling for a fight. He greeted me outside my apartment with a big smile and gestured to his car to highlight how he’d gotten it back.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Everything is great.” He seemed all peppy and chipper. Should I just let him pretend? Very tempting. Just because were dating did we have to do feelings? Nope. Even if I maybe wanted to hold his hand and tell him everything would be okay. Dammit.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Okay, everything might not be great, but I want things between us to be. I reacted poorly when we spoke last.”
“It was a bad time to spring stuff on you.” Why had I done that? I hadn’t been able to even mention my dad before and then I wanted to tell him the whole thing? Maybe I needed him to hold my hand and tell me everything would be okay. Goddammit.
“Water under the bridge.” He grabbed my hands. “I thought we could take a little trip.”
“Oh, where are we going?”
“I have a godfather who’s on the admissions board at Princeton. I thought we could chat with him, see where we might stay freshman year, things like that,” Cal carried on like what he was saying was tame and reasonable.
I’d acted like the crazy one in our relationship before when I ghosted and couldn’t apologize. Was this Cal’s turn? It came without fanfare. Isn’t that how it always goes? Forecasters know all the tricks for predicting weather patterns but metaphorical storms I never seemed to see coming. There had to be early warning systems, some kind of clues, but I guess I was just shit at seeing them. One moment it was smooth sailing and then man overboard, sharks in the water, dire straights ahead.
“Whoa, slow down, what?” I stopped in front of the car and wouldn’t go further. “I didn’t know either of us even wanted to go Princeton.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Max, why would you not?”
He didn’t even want to go there, so why would- Wait. “What, you’re saying I can’t do better?” I didn’t know how to explain to someone like him that not everybody needed a prestigious, elite school.
“There is no better,” Cal explained patiently. “It’s one of the best.”
“It might not be my thing.” While I’d been joking with Cal about everyone at Princeton being like him, I didn’t know if it would be my scene. Plus, did I need to go somewhere so pricey and fancy just for a teaching degree? It had worked quickly up the list of possible majors once Cal pointed it out. It wasn’t definite, but it was a definite possibility. “And I don’t want you pulling strings to get me in.” He had a connection at Princeton; of course he did.
Cal rolled his eyes. “It’s all about who you know. Everyone does it.”
“I don’t want special treatment.” Did he pick up how serious I was or did he just not care?
“Don’t turn this into something more than it is,” he said patronizingly.
Cal threw his weight around without even thinking a
bout it, from something as trivial as insisting he pay when I asked him out to wanting to influence something as important as college admissions. “You don’t get to call the shots in our relationship just because you have more connections and money.”
“See, there you go,” Cal said with a roll of his eyes.
Dammit. This wouldn’t lead anywhere good. I switched gears. “Why are you suddenly so excited about going to Princeton?”
“Why aren’t you as excited as me at the prospect of going to the same school together?” Cal asked back. I didn’t know if it was worse if he wanted to go there for his parents or me. I heard April’s voice in my head faintly say he answered a question with a question.
I liked Cal, so I pushed down a knee-jerk aversion to the thought of us attending the same college. That just made us seem so solid and permanent; I wasn’t sure I was ready for that yet. “I don’t understand where the sudden enthusiasm came from.”
“I see the appeal now.” He said the next words softly but firmly. “At least we’d get to be together.” Yep, there was that aversion again. Shit.
“We’re high school boyfriends,” I pointed out.
Cal frowned. “You’re not serious about us.”
We were outside, yet I still felt cornered. There was no right answer. I wasn’t sure I could tell him how freaking stupidly serious I was about this because of how much that freaked me out. More importantly, I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear because I didn’t want to pretend like our relationship was the answer to all his problems. We’d both go to Princeton and live happily ever after? Yeah right. His parents would still be his parents. Just because they got their way about where he went to school didn’t mean they would suddenly butt out.
My silence meant he kept talking. “You ran away when April lost, you didn’t tell me about your dad,” he said slowly.” I didn’t like where this was going but I couldn’t deny it. “You don’t care—"