by Sera Trevor
Noah wiped his eyes again and forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s fine. Or—well, not fine, but I’ll manage.” He stood. “I’m going to shower and get dressed.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll drop Bette off at Mom’s. Do you want to pick her up?”
“Is that your way of making sure I don’t stay at the hospital all night?”
“Maybe.”
Noah sighed. “Yes, I’ll pick her up.”
“Good.” He kissed his cheek. “See you tonight.”
The hot water felt good on Noah’s sore muscles. Sleeping in a chair in the hospital was not great for the back. But once some of the tension in his shoulders released, he lost control of the tears he’d been holding back. He pressed his head against the tiles and let himself weep, but only for five minutes. It was a trick he’d picked up as a kid. Crying infuriated his father.
It always made things worse.
5
There wasn’t much to do at the hospital. Rebecca remained unchanged. Noah sat beside her, shifting in his seat as he scrolled through his phone. When patients asked his opinion on how to help their loved ones, Noah always told them that their presence and support was essential to their loved ones’ recovery. He promised Rebecca he would be here for her. Even unconscious, he hoped she would feel his love. But the monotony of being there wasn’t something he’d navigated yet.
Why hadn’t he brought a book? His head was still not on straight. He got a magazine from the gift shop and read it aloud to her. That took about an hour. After a coffee break, he played YouTube videos of cute animals. She couldn’t see them, but he described what was happening.
He told her heartwarming stories, an old feral cat finding a second chance at life nurturing abandoned kittens; a vacationer saving a puppy from drowning and making it his traveling companion; paralyzed kittens finding loving homes.
The stories always started with tragedy and ended with happily-ever-after, all in five minutes or less. Each left a gooey feeling in his heart, almost too sweet. Junk food for the soul. The videos made happy endings seem inevitable.
He stopped the videos after a while. In spite of his good night’s sleep, fatigue crept upon him again. Ridiculous. He was just sitting there. Just looking at her exhausted him—a spiritual exertion—and he was out of shape.
Maybe he just needed to eat. He went to the cafeteria and got a sandwich. He’d just sat down when his phone rang. His heart raced. It was his mom. Part of him wanted to let it go to voicemail, but he forced himself to answer. “Hi, Mom.”
“We’re coming,” his mom said in lieu of greeting.
“That’s great,” he said faintly. “When?”
“We’ve got tickets for tomorrow morning, so should be in the afternoon. We’ve booked a hotel, so you don’t have to worry about putting us up.”
Noah swallowed. “Do you want me to meet you at the airport?”
A pause. “We wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
Which meant no. He wouldn’t fight her on it. Theirs wasn’t exactly going to be a joyous reunion. “Let me know when you get in. If you’re getting here in the afternoon, it would probably be best to wait until the next morning for the hospital.”
Another pause. “We’d like to meet our granddaughter.”
“You would?” Noah’s stomach churned. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”
“She’s our blood, and she’s not responsible for the circumstances of her birth.”
It was like a slap. He should call her on it. Instead, he just said, “When?”
“Whenever is convenient for you.”
“You could come for dinner tomorrow night, after you get settled.”
“All right, then. We’ll call you.”
Noah put his phone back in his pocket and stared at his sandwich. The reality of the situation caught up to him. They were coming to dinner. They were going to meet Oscar.
Nausea overwhelmed him. He left his sandwich behind and ran down the hallway to the bathroom, barely making it into the stall before he vomited.
It seemed like a bad idea to stay at the hospital with his stomach acting up, so Noah left, heading for Carmen’s to pick up Bette. He needed to talk to someone about his parents, someone who wasn’t Oscar. Carmen was a good listener.
She answered the door with Bette on her hip. Bette shook her limbs in excitement and held out her arms to him.
Instantly, some of his anxiety released. He took her in his arms. “Hey, baby girl.” She gurgled in response.
Noah turned to Carmen. “How was she?”
“A joy as always. I think that tooth is just about in.”
Noah peeked inside her mouth at the sliver of white that peeked from her gum. “Any day now.”
Carmen peered at him. “You look hungry. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
His stomach was still queasy, but he did need to eat. “Thanks.”
Noah followed her into the kitchen, waving to Miguel as he passed him in the living room, watching some Spanish show on TV. He put Bette in her ExerSaucer before sitting down at the table. She batted at the dangling toys and grunted, content for the moment.
Noah squirmed in his seat as Carmen made his sandwich. Now he was here, he didn’t know what to say. It felt as if saying it out loud would make it real. But it was already real. He was being stupid. “I talked to my mom,” he said in a rush.
Carmen didn’t turn around. “Oh?”
“Yeah. They’re going to come.”
Carmen finished the sandwich and set the plate in front of him. Ham and cheese—his favorite. “Do they have a place to stay?”
“They’ve booked a hotel.”
Carmen clucked her tongue. “Expensive. Tell them they can stay with us. We have plenty of room.”
She meant it, too. Noah took her in. Her open, honest face, always a little flushed, her kind brown eyes and soft, round body and curly hair that always frizzed a little. And what would his parents see? What would they say to her? “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? We’re family, aren’t we?”
“They wouldn’t see it that way.”
Carmen set her jaw. “Then we change their mind. They should come to Sunday dinner.”
The whole Lozada clan got together on the last Sunday of every month for dinner. Inviting his parents was a terrible idea. He was going to object, but Carmen had a steely look in her eyes. She was so sweet and gentle that Noah sometimes forgot how stubborn she could be. “I’ll invite them,” he promised. They would probably say no, anyway.
He ate his sandwich while Carmen told Noah about her and Bette’s day. By the time he was finished, some of his tension had eased.
“I ought to head back,” Noah said, standing. “Oscar will be home soon.”
Someone cleared their throat. Noah looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see Miguel standing in the doorway. “Why don’t you get Bette in her car seat, mi reina?” he said, addressing his wife.
“Yes, of course.” She held out her hand to Noah. “Keys?”
He handed them to her. She gathered up the baby and left, leaving Miguel and Noah alone. Noah liked Miguel, but they rarely interacted without the family around. Oscar’s dad wasn’t much for one-on-one conversations. “What’s up?” Noah asked.
Miguel shuffled his feet. “You know, I was not so accepting of Oscar, at first.”
That was an understatement. He’d broken his son’s nose. Granted, it wasn’t just Oscar’s coming out that prompted the fight. Oscar had been falsely accused of rape, and his dad had believed the other boy. Carmen had sided with their son, and it almost ended their marriage.
Noah waited for Miguel to continue. “It shames me still, that I would treat my son that way. And that shame, it can be powerful. I can talk to your parents, maybe. About how I was wrong. How it is not too late to mend fences.”
Noah struggled to answer. “That’s kind of you. Really. But it isn’t just about me and Oscar. I’m apostate. When someone leav
es the Witnesses the way I did, they aren’t supposed to speak to me ever again. I’m dead to them. I wasn’t even sure they would come.”
Miguel clenched his jaw. “And they feel no shame, for how they treat their own blood?”
Noah looked away. “I don’t know.” His dad didn’t, he was sure of that. But what about his mom? Did any part of her regret it?
Miguel patted his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Noah. I am proud you are my son-in-law. Remember that.”
Warmth rushed into his heart. “I will. Thank you.”
Miguel walked Noah outside. Carmen had Bette all strapped in and was playing peek-a-boo with her. Bette was laughing, a full-bodied baby giggle of pure delight. He must have been like that, once. When was the moment when he’d lost that innocence, when he realized how conditional love could be?
Noah tightened his fist. His daughter would never, ever know that feeling. He’d make sure of it.
Noah had Bette settled in her ExerSaucer and was in the kitchen, cooking, when Oscar arrived home.
“Smells good,” Oscar said after he’d kissed him. “What are we having?”
“Roast chicken. I’m making cornbread.”
“Love it.” He sat down at the table and tickled Bette, who squealed. “So how’s your sister?”
“The same.”
“Better than worse, I guess.”
Noah’s shoulders tensed as he stirred the batter. Telling Carmen that his parents were coming was hard. Telling Oscar was going to be harder. “I heard from my mom. They’re coming.”
“They aren’t staying with my parents,” Oscar said automatically. “And they sure as sh— sugar aren’t staying here.”
Noah agreed, but Oscar’s reaction irked him. “No. They’ve booked a hotel. I wouldn’t ask that of your mom. You know that.”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet she offered. Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“We are.” Noah poured the batter into the pan and put it in the oven before joining Oscar at the table.
“So when do they get in?” Oscar asked.
“Tomorrow. I’ve invited them for dinner. We’ll go to the hospital the next morning.”
Oscar rubbed his face. “Dinner with the in-laws. And here I thought I had escaped that experience.”
Guilt stabbed at him. It must have shown on his face because Oscar winced. “Sorry. That was supposed to be a joke.”
Noah’s shoulders slumped. “You were right before. The idea of them poking around in our life terrifies me.”
“Hey.” Oscar put a finger under his chin and lifted it until he met his eyes. “Be annoyed or angry, but don’t be terrified, okay? There’s no way for them to hurt us.”
Noah looked away. “I hope so.”
“No hope necessary. You aren’t a kid anymore. They don’t have any power over you.” Oscar lifted his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Worst-case scenario? They come over for dinner and insult us, in which case we can ask them to leave. Politely, of course,” he added quickly.
“I guess,” Noah mumbled.
“Alright, you come up with a worst-case scenario.” Oscar opened his arms. “Let your imagination run wild!”
“Do you know how wild my imagination is when it comes to disasters?” Noah bit his lip. “I’d feel silly.”
“Hey, nothing silly about preparing for disasters.” Oscar nudged him with his foot. “Come on. Hit me with your best shot.”
Unease gripped him. Saying anything aloud seemed like a jinx. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, I’ll go first.” He rubbed his chin. “Your parents convert me, and I decide that it’s time I leave my sinful, homosexual ways behind.”
The corners of Noah’s mouth twitched. “You think that’s likely?”
“Worst-case scenario, right? Now, how would we beat that?” He snapped his fingers. “I know! If it looks like I’m converting, perform an erotic striptease to remind me of why living in sin is so awesome.”
Noah laughed. “Should I wait until my parents leave?”
“I guess it depends on how persuasive they are.” Oscar rubbed his hands together. “Your turn.”
Noah nibbled on a nail. “My dad assaults us,” he said quietly. It seemed ridiculous now he said it.
Oscar raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know much about your dad, but do you really think he could take both of us? Assuming your mom doesn’t throw down, too.”
He tried to imagine his prim mother brawling. “We could probably take them.”
“Okay, so if they assault us, we assault back.”
“Or call the police.”
“Or call the police,” Oscar agreed. He clapped his hands. “Next scenario.”
Noah hesitated. “You pick a fight with them.”
“Me?” Oscar put a hand to his chest. “The nicest guy who has ever existed?”
Noah crossed his arms. “I’m serious, Oscar. I don’t want you antagonizing them.”
Oscar shrugged. “Well, I won’t start anything.”
“You won’t ‘finish’ anything, either!” Noah said, exasperated. “Just—don’t stoop to their level, okay?”
“Okay, no fights.” Oscar crossed his heart. “Promise.” He nudged him. “So did we cover everything?”
“I think so.” Noah flashed him a sheepish smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Oscar took Noah’s hands in his. “I promise you, no matter what happens, we will get through it, together. Do you believe me?”
Noah met Oscar’s gaze. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in him. Noah wished he could be so sure. “I believe you.” He tried to sound confident. Oscar was right. Noah wasn’t a kid anymore. This was his house, his husband, his kid—his life.
The only way they could have power over him was if he gave it to them.
6
The next day, Noah went on a cleaning binge. Their house was always neat. He’d trained Oscar out of his slovenly habits. But there were still blinds to be dusted, baseboards to be cleaned. He hunted dirt as if there were a bounty on it.
Bette chose this day to be fussy. Maybe she picked up on his anxious mood. Or maybe she was just teething. Hard to say. She usually napped at three, but he didn’t get her down till four. Might be a late night for them.
On the plus side, that meant he was able to prepare dinner while she was down. His mother had sent him a text saying they’d be there around five for dinner. Oscar would be home around six. Noah made roast chicken with baked potatoes and green beans. He’d chosen it because it was easy, but as he put the ingredients together, he remembered his mother teaching him how to roast a chicken, back when he was ten years old and eager to help in the kitchen. His father thought that cooking was womanly, but his mom still let him help. Not like he was around much to object. He was either at work or else at Kingdom Hall.
Had he chosen this dish subconsciously? He shoved the chicken and potatoes in the oven and tried not to think about it. Once they were in, he retreated to the sofa and played an ASMR video on his phone, trying to remember to breathe.
The doorbell rang at 4:45. Noah shot to his feet and almost fell over. His stomach had been so upset all day that he hadn’t eaten much. He sucked in a breath, then another. Too many. He was getting dizzy again. What if he just didn’t answer the door? They didn’t know for sure this was his house. Maybe they’d leave.
No. He dug his fingernails into his palms. The biting pain brought him around. No more cowardice. He’d invited them, after all.
He opened the door. And there they were—his parents. His mother, five foot two and thin, wearing a plain brown blouse and matching skirt. Her hair was in a prim bun, just as she had always worn it, although there was more gray than brown in it now. His father, over a foot taller than she was, loomed over both of them. He stood a few steps back from the door, half in shadow. Nikki’s Krampus cacti arrangement swung behind him. For a moment, it looked like he had horns. He had always been thin, but he looked hollowed out, almost ghoulish.
They both looked so old.
Of course they did. It had been years since he had seen them. But it was one thing to know it and another to see it. He’d grown older himself. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man, with a family of his own. Could they see that? Or did they just see their boy?
“Hi, Mom,” he said. He nodded to his father. “Dad.”
His mother inclined her head. His dad didn’t respond at all. Noah opened the door farther. “Please, come in.”
They walked in, both of them looking around the house with something close to suspicion. Maybe they’d been expecting rainbows and leather. He led them to the living room. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Iced tea, if you have it,” his mother said. His father said nothing, but he sat down.
Noah got two glasses of iced tea and brought them back, setting them on coasters on the coffee table. His mother sipped hers; his dad didn’t touch his. Noah swallowed. “So how was your flight?”
His mother sniffed. “It got us here, although I wouldn’t say comfortably. Been years since we’ve flown. It’s changed.”
“And your hotel?”
“Serviceable.” She looked around. “Where’s our granddaughter?”
“Sleeping. She got a late start to her nap. Teething.”
“She’s six months, you say?” His mom softened a little. “Sweet age. No colic or anything?”
“No, she’s very healthy. Good tempered.”
“Takes after you then.” She smoothed out her skirt. “You were an easy baby. Your sister, on the other hand...” She trailed off. “How is she?”
“No changes.”
“Better than worse, I suppose.”
“That’s the same thing my husband said.”
They both flinched, as if he’d pulled a gun on them. His mother recovered first. “I suppose we’re to meet him too, then.”
Heat crept up Noah’s neck. “He does live here, yes. He gets out of work at six.”
His mother pressed her lips together. They sat in silence for several long moments. “I’ll go check on her,” Noah mumbled at last. He fled the room.