by G. Benson
And now it was Sam who was looking everywhere but at Hayden. “Yes.”
Hayden waited. And waited. “You know that involves words?”
That glare was leveled on her. “Yes, thank you. I’m aware how conversation works.” Sam sighed. “My family is having a dinner. Christmas Eve. I know we should both finish work around seven-thirty. They’ll have dinner at eight-thirty. Will you join me?”
“Uh, me? As in wife-me? Or friend-me?”
“Wife-you. I think it’s time we tell them.”
“We? As in us? Tell them together?”
Why did Sam want to tell them now, so randomly? And together? Something like hope fluttered in Hayden’s stomach.
“Yes. We. As in us.”
“And their reaction will be…?”
Sam was smiling. It could be called wicked, if not for the flicker of doubt Hayden could see in her eyes. “They won’t like it.”
Hayden squashed that rising hope quickly. She was being stupid. She’d always known this was all part of some plan of Sam’s.
“Okay, so am I finally finding out what’s going on?”
Sam visibly swallowed and broke eye contact again, watching Frank as he purred and lifted his chin for her to pat him more. Hayden had the urge to run her hand through Sam’s hair, to let it rest on the back of her neck until she looked up so Hayden could brush their lips together.
What would it be like, to kiss her with intention on her mouth?
“Soon.”
Hayden sighed. “Surely I need to know before we go in there.”
“That’s true.”
The buzzer rang at the door. Hayden jumped. “Seriously? Every time you’re opening up?”
Sam chuckled and jumped up too quickly, clearly happy to get away with it. “I can feel you glaring,” she said as she walked away.
Hayden stubbornly relaxed her face. “I’m not glaring.”
Sam ignored her and opened the door. “Jon. You actually used the buzzer and didn’t just let yourself in. How novel.”
“Sam. Hi.” He didn’t step in, so Hayden couldn’t see him. His voice sounded tight. “Can we talk? I just, I can’t believe them.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?” Hayden was clearly not meant to be witnessing this. “Mom and Dad.”
“Okay, Jon—”
“I just, I even went over there. To try and talk to them again?”
“Jon.” Sam’s voice was soothing in a way that Hayden had only heard that night Hayden’s mother had accidentally hit her. “You know there was no point in doing that. But listen, Hay—”
“I know.” His voice cracked, something broken. Should Hayden make it obvious she was here? “But with Christmas, I thought… I didn’t really think they’d cut me out completely, you know? They made the cleaner tell me to leave.”
“They what?” Hayden asked, incredulous.
Sam closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and opened them. Jon stepped through the door, wide-eyed. He swallowed, pale, like Sam often got.
“I thought you were alone.”
CHAPTER 20
“Jon, your parents did what?”
Hayden knew there were parents that could be that horrible. Her father was a great example. But what Sam and Jon’s parents had done sounded so callous—to not even talk to your child? To send the cleaner?
Jon’s gaze flicked from Hayden to Sam.
“Well,” he grimaced, “I hope you were planning on telling her soon?”
Sam closed her eyes for a second, hand still on the door handle. When she opened them again, she looked calm, though her lips were a tight line. “I was going to soon, yes,” she finally said.
“Good.” He still looked pale, his joking dimples long gone. “Sorry, though.”
“It’s fine. You’re upset.”
“Um—I’m right here.” Hayden gave a wave, and they both looked at her again.
Jon looked back to Sam. “Do you want me here for this?”
The fact that he didn’t leave made Hayden wonder just how upset he was. He looked shaken. While he could normally manage to look more mature, now he seemed small and young.
Sam must have seen it too. “Stay,” she said to Jon, and Hayden relaxed.
“You sure?” he asked, hovering in the doorway.
“Grab a drink, if you want.” Sam stepped away from the door, opening it wider to let him in.
He walked through to the kitchen, and Sam rubbed her hand over her eyes, pushing the door closed as she did so. This all seemed like a family thing, and Hayden felt as if she was imposing. As if she was butting her way into something that was none of her business. For a moment, she thought about going to her room and giving them space.
For a moment.
“What the hell is going on?” Hayden blurted out.
Sam considered her briefly, then walked over to sit at the end of the sofa.
“Does anyone want a beer?” Jon asked from the kitchen.
“I won’t say no,” Hayden said.
“Sam?”
“Please.”
He walked two over, already opened.
“Thanks.”
With a nod, he went back to the kitchen, pulled out another beer and twisted it open. The swig he took was a long one, and Hayden mimicked him, as did Sam. They all lowered their bottles and gazed around at each other. Finally, Jon leaned against the fridge. He looked small. Every now and again, he flicked his thumbnail at the label. Hayden crossed her legs and pulled Frank into them. He meowed-slash-whined once, and settled into a ball in her lap.
“My family is…difficult,” Sam said. From the kitchen, Jon snorted. Sam shot him a small, wry smile. “Perhaps that’s putting it mildly.”
His expression agreed.
“Am I finally about to find out what’s going on?” Hayden asked.
“Seems like,” Jon said. “And also find out why I’m against the entire thing.” He raised his beer bottle to Hayden. “Nothing against you, personally. I think you’re great.”
Hayden scratched Frank under the chin. “You can’t help but love me.”
“If you two are done?” Sam said. When she again had Hayden’s attention, she continued, “At Christmas last year, Jon was outed.”
“Outed? For being gay? Like celebrities are grossly outed by mass media?”
“Just like that.” Jon stepped forward so he was leaning against the counter. The space was so big, he seemed ages away. Maybe he needed the distance for this conversation. “Except without the fame. And apparently without the fortune.” He gave a laugh, though the joke was lost on Hayden.
Sam put her elbows on her knees. “Yes, very funny, Jon.” The moment reminded Hayden that Sam was so much older and didn’t feel like only a sister to him. Her feelings about him were all wrapped up with a mother’s concern. “Our parents had him followed, as they suspected him of being gay, though I don’t know why. Some private investigator had photos of Jon in a club and later in a car.”
Bile rose in Hayden’s throat.
“Yay, privacy,” Jon said, his voice flat, dead. Hayden wanted to get up and hug him. Why hadn’t they just asked him if he was gay?
“It exploded at Christmas; they threw him out at dinner.” Sam’s voice was tight, wrought with anger.
“They waited for Christmas?” Hayden asked him. “Seriously?”
His thumb was flicking at the label with more vigor now, his brow furrowed. “There’s nothing they like more than staging a good show.” Bitterness coated his words. He sighed, and his brow relaxed, though his thumb kept flicking. “They waited until I got home on college break—”
“How old were you?”
“It was last year. So, twenty.” He picked part of the label off completely. “I had really only just kind of, I don’t know, accepted that I was gay. I knew my parents couldn’t know. We knew what they thought of being gay.”
“They were always so openly homophobic?”
Jon gave a mir
thless laugh, but it was Sam who spoke. “They donate money to every Republican supporting every anti-gay movement—especially those that wish to promote conversion therapy. We grew up hearing about our gay uncle and how he was depraved. They compared him to things that I won’t bother going into now. There were rants about the good ol’ days.”
Hayden felt something sick twist in her stomach. Imagine growing up in that? Hayden had grown up in a family who loved her. She’d come out young, and they’d pulled her close and hugged her. It had taken Abuela a while to understand. The idea of a man in Hayden’s life being a sure thing was something she’d clung to. She hadn’t been able to understand why she’d ‘choose’ a harder life. But they’d spoken about it, and she’d made an effort and now dressed in rainbow colors for Pride every year.
How lucky she’d been.
This story seemed like one from the fifties. Not from today. How naïve of Hayden.
“I had no plans to come out to them,” Jon said. “There was an…understanding that my uncle should have been discreet. Buried it. Married a woman anyway. I thought I could just—I don’t know. Hide it. Sam had.”
“Your family doesn’t know you’re gay?” Hayden asked her.
“A lesbian. And no. I was always discreet. Also, I was focused on my career. It was never the most important thing to me.” Sam took a sip of her beer. It was a strange image, her drinking from the bottle. Like she wasn’t quite comfortable doing it. All those neat lines in her. Her posture. The carefully-monitored expressions.
Were these the results of growing up in such a controlled environment, or was it just Sam? There probably wasn’t a distinction. She itched to pull Sam closer and tug at her to get to know her better. An ache swelled in Hayden’s throat at the thought of it.
Hayden tore her gaze away and back to Jon, who was watching her thoughtfully. Heat crept into her cheeks. “So they just…” she really couldn’t comprehend this “…told you to go?”
“There was a discussion first.” A muscle twitched in his cheek, and Sam breathed harshly through her nose. “But yes, I was told to leave. My mother wouldn’t even look at me. I’d never seen her…” he swallowed “…her face so twisted? Like she felt sick at the sight of me. Dad—” he all but spat out the word “—had a lot to say. Finally, he threw me out, literally, and told me not to come back unless I could prove my depravity was over.”
Depravity. Charming. That sick feeling was back.
“I’m so sorry, Jon.”
He gave a half-hearted shrug, as if it could shrug off the pain lacing his expression. Even his attempt at a smile failed miserably. “It is what it is.”
“Were you there?” Hayden asked Sam.
Sam opened her mouth and closed it. She hesitated over her words. Not used to seeing Sam flounder, Hayden leaned forward, squishing Frank, who didn’t even seem to notice. Her fingers itched to rest on Sam’s knee, or to offer something small, anything, to help.
“I was there.”
“And your parents wouldn’t listen to you?”
Sam watched Hayden pat Frank. “I tried to reason with them at first. I didn’t really do enough.”
“You did what you could.” Jon’s voice was low.
Her eyes flashed, and she looked over at her brother, cheeks flushed. “I did no such thing. And you know it.”
An old hurt etched over his face as he looked back at his bottle.
“I just, I watched them throw you out, Jon. I watched and I said nothing. I’ve never been more ashamed of myself. Ever.”
Silence rang in Hayden’s ears, and Sam swallowed visibly. Jon was picking at the sticker on his bottle again. There’d be no label left soon.
“When Father told me to stay out of it, I—I just stopped speaking.” Her voice was thick, and Hayden wanted to reach over and twine their fingers together. To soothe the edge on her brow. “They said hideous things, and it was like I’d lost my voice. I spent…years keeping that part of myself locked away from them. And I watched you stripped bare, exposed to them against your will—it was my worst nightmare playing out in front of me. But instead of me, it was you—and that was even worse.” The words rang, for a minute, almost solid in the air. “And I just couldn’t get myself to say anything.”
Jon looked up, finally. “You did try. Harder than I think you realize. But there was no point. They were never going to change their mind. They’re assholes.”
Sam licked her lips, then sighed. “I know they’re assholes.”
The word, on Sam’s tongue, almost made Hayden laugh hysterically. This was all so heavy.
Sam looked at Hayden. “I know they’re assholes. But they’re also our parents. And I may not like them, at times. But I also—well, they’re my parents. They weren’t cold, callous people. They could be distant, but they encouraged us and were there—at the thought of disappointing them, after years of doing nothing but trying to do the exact opposite, I froze.” She sucked in a breath. “I let Jon down.”
“You didn’t.” The protectiveness in those two words made Hayden want to pull Jon close. All they both did was speak of trying to protect each other, when both were hurting.
“I did, and it’s okay if you say that. I watched our father take you by the scruff and half heave you out the door. I listened to the things they called you, and called me by extension, and I didn’t say a word. I had always thought, maybe, if it was one of us, their children…” Sam swallowed heavily again and cut herself off. “We didn’t eat much. I left as early as I could, and I walked around for hours. I tried to call Jon, but his phone was off.”
“I maybe threw my phone in the river.” He shrugged. “Which was not a smart move. I’d just been completely cut off and had no way of getting a new one.”
Sam had turned to stare out the window, as if it made baring herself easier. “After a few hours, I was numb with cold. I wanted to go back, to tell them I’m a lesbian. I wanted to scream it at them at that point. But it was late, and instead I went home.”
“You went home with a stupid idea bubbling in your brain.” Jon walked over and sat on the floor near them, resting his elbows on the coffee table.
Sam turned to look back at them. “It’s not a stupid idea.”
“It really, really is.”
“You wanted to get married to make a point to them?” Hayden asked. It made so much sense. Marry a woman. Make her homophobic asshole parents angry.
“It started like that,” Sam said. “I woke up in the morning, and that was my idea, to find a girlfriend and either come out to them, or let them discover it themselves, another salacious drama for them to use as an excuse to turn away their daughter. I don’t need them, financially. It wouldn’t affect me the way it affected Jon.”
“How did it affect you more?” Hayden asked.
“They cut me off completely.” His voice was monotone. “They stopped paying for college. I tried to finish this year, since it was paid for, but there seemed no point—there was no way I’d be able to finish the degree.”
“You’re an idiot,” Sam said.
He shrugged. “With our family’s financial background, I’m not eligible for any scholarships.”
“He was due for his trust fund, a small amount, in the scheme of things, at twenty-one. They liquidated it. They stopped paying for college. They stopped paying his rent. They cut him off completely.” Sam looked at Hayden. “You have to understand that I realize we sound spoiled.” She raised her voice, as if mimicking someone. “Mommy and Daddy stopped paying for him.” Her voice dropped back to normal. “But they always had. They abruptly left him with literally nothing and didn’t care what happened to him as a result.”
The air had left Hayden’s lungs. Her gaze flicked to Jon, staring adamantly at his beer bottle, and to Sam. How could parents do that?
She had no understanding of the type of money they were talking about. “But surely you had some cash?” she asked him.
“It was all tied into their money. When they fr
oze the funds they usually gave me, I had a couple of hundred in my account. But that was it.”
“So you married me to make them angry?” Hayden asked Sam. She was subject-hopping, she knew. But her brain was all over the place.
Jon snorted, and Hayden whipped her head around to look at him, but he was still appraising his half-full beer.
“In part,” Sam said.
“But that means you’ll lose them too.” Not that Hayden saw that as a huge loss at this point. But it wasn’t up to her to say they were both better off with or without parents like theirs. Who was she to make that judgment? It had turned out that she was better off without her own father, but his rejection hurt every day, if she let herself think about it.
“Exactly!” Jon exploded. “Exactly, Sam. You’ll lose them too. Why do that when you don’t need to? Why put yourself through that?”
His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright, intent on Sam.
“You know why,” Sam said, her own gaze steady on his.
“It’s bullshit. You could still have them.”
“I don’t want them. The fact that they could do that to you—that’s not parenting. This closet they’ve forced us into isn’t living. I. Don’t. Want. Them.”
“That’s easy for you to say when you haven’t lost them.” Jon’s voice broke on the last word, and Hayden almost did get up and hug him. Sam didn’t move, though, and Jon didn’t make any indication he wanted that. His eyes were glistening, though. A little boy lost. “I thought they couldn’t have meant it, that after a year, they’d be ready to talk.” He swallowed, his voice thick with tears that weren’t falling. “They wouldn’t even let me in the front door. Dad walked past, and he wouldn’t even look at me.”
“I’m aware of the consequences,” Sam said. “And I’m willing to accept them.”
“For what?” Jon asked. “I don’t need the money.”