When Everything Is Blue

by Laura Lascarso

  “No one blames you for anything.” I try to keep the emotion out of my voice, because why would you blame anyone for this? I remind myself of my goals in telling my dad. Goal #1 has been met. Maybe we should just get up and leave.

  No, I tell myself, I’m going to see this thing through, and then leave knowing I couldn’t do any more.

  “Is this because I didn’t spend enough time with you when you were a kid?” Dad asks, still theorizing. “That turns kids queer, you know.”

  Next to me, Chris repositions himself, and I lay my hand on his knee because I know how hard it is for him to stay silent.

  “I don’t think that’s it,” I tell him. I’m tempted to ask him if he heard that on Fox News, but I don’t.

  “You think if your mother and I were together, you’d still be a queer?”

  That’s an interesting what if statement and one I’d never consider in a million years, because it’s somewhat irrelevant.

  “Probably, Dad. I don’t know the exact statistics, but I’m pretty sure queers come from two-parent households too.”

  He shakes his head and runs his tongue over his teeth. “I knew she coddled you too much growing up. I told her over and over you needed a strong male influence in your life.”

  And here I almost laugh at the irony of it all, because he should have been that strong male influence. I’d still be gay, but at least there wouldn’t be this chasm between us, this distrust born of not really knowing each other because we’ve hardly ever hung out one-on-one. Chris knocks his knee against mine, a reassuring gesture. His presence gives me the strength to continue.

  “Dad, maybe we shouldn’t focus right now on what might have been. The reason I’m telling you this is because I want to be honest with you. And my sexuality aside, I’d like for us to have a relationship.”

  Dad runs one hand through his thinning hair and smiles like the actor in American Psycho. I never know what the hell that smile means. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to your grandmother, Theo. She’s not going to like this one bit. I wouldn’t be surprised if she revokes your trust fund money.”

  I stare blankly at the gaping flat-screen TV. I should have known we’d get into trust fund territory sooner or later. For my dad, it seems his world revolves around money, and the trust fund has always been his bargaining chip. That carrot he’s always dangling just in front of my nose. And maybe because it’s always been a threat to take it away, I’ve never thought of it as mine, so in this moment, I honestly don’t give a shit about the Wooten Family Trust fund.

  “I don’t really care about the trust fund, Dad.”

  He looks offended by that. “Oh no? You think you’ll be able to afford college without it?”

  I feel myself growing more and more despondent, retreating entirely from this conversation like I’m overhearing it from across the room, thinking that poor kid is screwed.

  “I don’t know, Dad. I hope so.”

  “You hope so,” he scoffs. “You think being queer is worth throwing your life away?”

  “He’s not throwing anything away,” Chris says with a rumble in his voice. Only I know how much it’s killing him to stay calm. “He’s smart enough and works hard enough that he doesn’t need your money. You should be proud of him for that. I know I am.”

  Chris puts a hand on my shoulder and I grab for it, smiling almost by accident. It reminds me of Uncle Theo’s face when he spoke of Manuel, that sweet, private happiness, contrasted with the despondency when he mentioned his own relationship with his father. Chris was right. There’s nothing I can say that will bring my dad around to my side. He has to want this too. Even knowing that, I try again.

  “I came to you, Dad, because I wanted to tell you to your face that I’m gay before you hear it from someone else. It’s not going to go away, and you’re not going to be able to talk me out of it. Chris is my boyfriend. I love him. He’s also my best friend. I’d like for you to get to know him better and me as well, because I want us to have a relationship, and I hope after you’ve had some time to think about it, you’ll want that too.”

  My dad stares at his flask, grumbling for, like, a minute. His phone rings, but he doesn’t answer it. All three of us listen to it ring while I count the seconds in my head, the most excruciating of awkward silences. Instead of feeling angry, I start to feel bad for him, this man who’s pushing fifty and sneaking drinks on a Sunday afternoon while his pregnant wife is upstairs, frustrated and unhappy. His phone quiets and nobody moves. I want him to say something.

  “Maybe we should go,” Chris says, not trying to hide his disgust.

  Even though my dad is weirdly silent, I want to give him the chance to respond. This is an opportunity to show me I mean something to him. His big chance. He takes a long swig from his flask and sighs heavily.

  “You know, Theo?” He draws his finger along the edge of the entertainment system. “I’m not really sure what’s going on in your head. Tell you the truth, you always were a weird kid. I never could quite figure you out. I tried, kid, I really did, but the fact of the matter is, I just don’t have time for this. I admit I made some mistakes, with your mother and you and your sister both, but you’re practically an adult now. And me?” He shakes his head and plasters another one of those strange smiles on his face. “I’ve got another kid on the way. You realize I’m going to be in my sixties by the time that kid is eighteen? Jesus.” He squints at the sliding glass doors that lead to their in-ground pool and screened-in patio.

  “So you want to be a queer,” he continues. “Go on and be a queer. Good luck to you. As for me….” He shrugs. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.” He tilts the flask back all the way so it goes completely vertical, then caps it and places it back into the VHS case.

  My father’s an empty box. I wonder if he was always like this or if life has sucked the good stuff away. For me, I’m in a bit like a free fall—my father doesn’t care enough to even pretend to try. Maybe he’s been pretending this whole time by trying to fill a role he was never interested in the first place.

  I stand so that we’re eye to eye. I wish I knew the magic words that would bring him around, something I could harken back to that would bind him to me, some great father-son memory to make him want to put in the effort to accept me and maybe even get to know me better, but I don’t have it, and even my desire to do so is dwindling. Maybe I’ve always wanted more from him than he could give and in his own way, that’s what he’s telling me now.

  “Listen,” I say, “don’t punish Tabitha for this. She needs you and wants to be part of your and Susan’s family. She’s really excited about the new baby, and it would crush her if you cut her out of your life.”

  Dad clears his throat, frowns, and studies me for a moment. He nods once and holds out his hand. I take it, and he gives it one hard pump. “It’s too bad it had to be this way,” he says like it’s completely out of his control. I’m a deal gone bad. I’m guessing it’s partly an apology, but mostly it’s a goodbye.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” I tell him. “This is a choice you’re making.”

  My dad’s mouth forms a grim line. He lets go of my hand and walks out to the patio, shutting the glass door behind him. He must not want me to follow him. I turn blindly to find Chris’s arms. I lean my head on his shoulder and he rubs my back, whispering encouragement into my ear, most of which I don’t hear because I’m overwhelmed with the finality of it all.

  I could say it’s my dad’s loss, but I know it’s mine too.

  BIFFLE

  “YOU CAN cry if it’ll make you feel better,” Chris says. His arms are wrapped around me and my face is buried in his neck where we stand in the middle of my dad’s driveway. I think of Uncle Theo just hours ago in this same warm and comforting embrace. What a treasure.

  I take a deep breath and release it into his skin. I feel strangely empty. Maybe the tears will come later, but for now I mainly just want to get the hell out of here and go home.
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br />   As we break apart, Chris grabs my hand. “I’m really proud of you, T. That took a lot of guts.”

  I tear up then, a little bit, not really because of my dad, but because Chris has always been there for me—after every shitty visit with my dad, every argument, every rejection. He’s been the constant in my life, my role model, and my best friend. “Thanks, Chris.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

  I sigh, trying to expel all the bad feelings I absorbed inside my father’s home before climbing into Chris’s car. “I’m glad I did it. Like you said, I made my best case.”

  “If your dad doesn’t want to make time for you….”

  Chris doesn’t finish his sentence. We both know it’s about more than making time, but in a way maybe it is just that. My dad has never made me a priority in his life, and he likely never will. That’s the cold, sobering truth. At least I can accept it, knowing I tried.

  “He might still come around,” Chris says, ever the hopeful one.

  “Maybe,” I agree, though I truly doubt it.

  “Any time you want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

  “Your dad would have never done that,” I say, not really as a comparison, but as an observation.

  Chris’s jaw sets in a hard line, and he shakes his head. “No.”

  It’s hard not to take it so personal—the gravity of the realization that my dad really doesn’t want me. It’s going to take some time get over, if that’s even possible. At least Chris was there. I can talk with him about it, and he’ll understand completely. I’m less alone, because I can share the burden with him.

  “I’m really glad you were there,” I say to him.

  “Me too.” He shakes his head. “Man, I wanted to beat his ass so bad.”

  I smile at that. “I appreciate your restraint.”

  “What an asshole,” he says, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

  I wish I could get angry like Chris, instead of feeling all sad and dejected, but I’m just not wired that way. Chris projects his emotions outward, whereas I suck them up and stew on them.

  “If you were my son, I’d be totally stoked,” Chris says. “You’re, like, the coolest person, you know?”

  My spirit lifts a little. “Thanks, Chris. You always know just what to say.”

  We drift into silence, and I get to thinking then about Chris and me, and how, if he’s my boyfriend, we can’t really be best buds anymore, and that’s something I’m going to miss.

  “Still thinking about your dad?” Chris asks, perhaps picking up on my silence.

  “No, actually, I’m stressing about something else now.”

  “You going to make me guess?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  He pulls into his driveway a few minutes later, and I help him unload our stuff. I pile my bags on the side of his car, then help him haul the boards back to his shed. While we’re in there, he grabs my hand and draws me to him.

  “Talk to me, T.” He pulls me in close so our noses are touching, warming me up for a kiss. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to hide stuff from me.”

  I hesitate because I don’t want to jinx us or have Chris think I’m not into this 110 percent. “I was just thinking about how, now that we’re together, we can’t really be best friends anymore. And that sucks.”

  Chris frowns. “Yes, we can.”

  “I mean, sort of, but what if we break up?”

  “We just got together,” Chris harrumphs.

  “I’m not saying I’d ever want to break up, but if it happens, then what?”

  Chris’s eyebrows furrow, and he stares past my shoulder for a moment. “I don’t want to think about it. That would really suck.”

  “Yeah, I know. It would be the worst.”

  “We should make a pact,” he says. “Like, no matter what happens with this, we’ll always be friends.”

  “Can we make that promise?”

  “I can,” Chris says stubbornly, a challenge in his voice.

  “Well, I can too.”

  “Bet me, then.”

  “Bet you what?”

  “That we’ll always be friends.”

  “To make a bet, you have to be at odds. Otherwise, what’s the bet?”

  He groans at my literal interpretation of things. “Just this once, let’s bet on the same thing. The consequence of breaking the bet is a lifetime of suck.”

  I’m tempted to ask him to define “lifetime of suck,” but I figure it to be more symbolic than anything else, and regardless, not having Chris as a friend would suck, for at least a lifetime. So I agree to his bet and we shake on it, as our deals have always been sealed in the past. It’s settled. No matter what happens, we’ll always be friends. I’m relieved. Chris is good at making complicated things seem easy.

  “Be honest if you get sick of me,” I tell him.

  “It’s been five years and I’m not sick of you yet. Be honest if I’m getting too possessive or jealous.”

  “I don’t see that happening.” He lifts his eyebrows like he doesn’t believe me. “Fine, but honestly, I kind of like it.”

  He grins at me like a scoundrel. “Awesome, then if you’re done, I brought you in here to make out with me.”

  “It’s all about you, isn’t it?” I tease, and he peppers my lips until I kiss him back with fervor. I’ll never get tired of this—kissing, touching, talking—all our little intimacies and exchanges. I think of Uncle Theo’s friend and what a loss that must have been for him to endure, how a person can spend their whole life searching for the kind of connection Chris and I found in each other. How lucky are we? Wherever I go in life and wherever I end up, I want to remember this feeling of being understood and accepted exactly as I am. And I want to love and honor Chris with the same devotion.

  “You have my heart completely,” I confess to him.

  “You’ve got mine. Even though yours is probably bigger, judging from the rest of you.”

  I chuckle and he grips me tighter, demanding my full attention. We make out in the fading buttery light of his shed until my mom calls me home from my bedroom window, reminding me there’s a whole world outside, and we can’t keep it waiting forever.

  I press one gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. “I gotta go, Boss.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  We exit the shed to find my mom shaking her head at us with a small smile on her face. As soon as she turns away from the window, Chris grabs my ass, and I dive in for one more good night kiss. “Best friends for life,” he reminds me with that cocky grin as he struts up his driveway. I watch him until I can’t anymore.

  Muy, Muy

  I THOUGHT it would be weird dating my best friend. Like, it might be awkward at first, or we might need to give each other some space so we don’t wear ourselves out. But as it turns out, our romantic relationship is a lot like our best friendship, only with sexy times. Like, we’ll be playing video games and one of us will get horny and then we’re rolling around on the floor with our mouths mashed together or dry humping to get ourselves off before anyone catches us. Or we’ll be skating somewhere, and Chris’ll corner me behind a building for a quick make-out sesh. Our friends all know we’re together, but we don’t do a lot of PDA’s. Chris probably wouldn’t mind it, but I don’t like having our relationship on display, especially after What’s in Wooten’s mouth? I’d like to keep our business between us.

  Sometimes we get lucky and our parents will be out of the house, and one of us will put out the bat signal that we’re in the clear for some heavy petting.

  Like today, we’re in Chris’s bedroom because his parents aren’t home from work yet, and Paloma has the day off. Chris cleverly added his parents to Find My Friends so he can track their commute from work to home. They still haven’t left the office, which means we have another half hour at least. We’re taking a break, both shirtless and laid out on his bed. Chris is a cuddler, so even when we’re not making out, he likes to be touching.r />
  “Tell me about the first time you knew you had feelings for me,” Chris says with his face buried in my neck, one arm draped across my chest and his other hand nestled in my hair.

  I think back to about a year ago, when we were surfing down at the pier. Chris fell asleep on a beach towel, and I was lying beside him on my own towel with my sunglasses on, trying to appear to be napping, but really I was watching him sleep, like a complete weirdo. I remind him of that day, then admit, “You were getting a hard-on, and I was imagining sucking you off.”

  “Really?” His eyebrows shoot up as he assesses me. “The first thought you had about me was a blowjob? That’s so… advanced.”

  “I’ve always been at the head of the class. How about you?”

  “There was no first time for me,” he says, nosing my shoulder. “Remember when you were helping me out with geometry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I actually didn’t need that much help. I just missed us not being at the same school. And when you’d be figuring out a problem, you’d get this cute little wrinkle on your forehead.” He kisses the center of my brow. “Or you’d, like, gaze off at nothing, and I’d think about kissing you.”

  I shake my head at that, even though there’s a smile on my face. “I still can’t believe you knew for so long.”

  He sighs. “I did and I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was just in love with you as a friend or if there was something sexual behind it. When I got back from California and saw you, I knew it was physical too. It was like, rawr.” His rawr is a deep growl that turns me on like nothing else.

  “Rawr to you too.” I roll onto my side to kiss him. Our lips and tongues get lost in each other, a dizzying dance where I lose all sense of time or place. Our chests press together, and he rolls me over so I’m on top of him. I brace myself on my elbows and tangle my fingers in his hair, then work my way down his neck to his collarbone, following the line to the hollow of his throat. He bucks a little to show me how aroused he is, but I couldn’t possibly miss it.