by Sera Trevor
His mother perked up at the suggestion and opened her mouth to respond, but Oscar cut her off. “Actually, it’s my turn to say grace.”
Carmen glared at him. “You never say grace.”
“Which means my turn is long overdue, right?”
“Oscar—” Carmen began warningly.
Oscar cleared his throat so loudly that it drowned her out. He folded his hands and bowed his head. “Rub-a-dub-dub, thanks for the grub. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
“Amen!” Nikki shouted with a lot more enthusiasm than normal. “Now let’s eat! I’m effing hungry.”
Carmen rolled her eyes and muttered something in Spanish but let the matter drop. Noah ventured a glance at his mother. She was glaring daggers at Oscar. Noah hoped he would ignore her, but instead, Oscar met her gaze straight on and twisted his face into the most passive aggressive smile Noah had ever witnessed. She looked away.
The food was passed around. As everyone chatted while they served themselves, Noah turned to Oscar. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “But can we cease aggressions now?”
“You’re welcome,” he responded. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He batted his eyelashes.
Noah snorted.
Conversation stalled as everyone started to eat. Noah didn’t have much of an appetite, but eating gave him something to do besides worry about his mom. Even with the distraction, he couldn’t help but steal glances at the other end of the table. Crystal and his mother had started talking. He wished he could hear what they were saying.
“Noah tells us you and your husband run a business,” Miguel said to his mother. “Carpentry, yes?”
His mother dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “That’s right, but we’ve sold it recently.”
He nodded. “Carmen wants me to sell our business—plumbing. But I think if I fully retire, that means I’m old, and I cannot admit that.” He chuckled. “Besides, I would not know what to do with myself.”
“There is more to life than making money,” Noah’s mother said. “There is much more that we plan to do with our lives.”
Miguel coughed. “Of course. Carmen is always wanting to travel.”
“That’s in our plans,” she said. “We had planned a trip to Mexico, in fact—our good friend Maria lives there now. Naturally we have canceled in light of Rebecca’s health.”
“Where in Mexico?” Miguel asked.
“Mexico City.”
“My brother Alonso lives there with his family. I love the city. I hope you are able to go someday.”
“I have always wanted to go to New England,” Carmen added. “To see the leaves in the fall.”
The conversation continued about the most beautiful places to visit, with Chad offering his own opinion as a native New Englander. The topic shifted to travel in general and meandered harmlessly for the rest of the meal.
Noah was in shock. It was crazy that his mother was sitting here, sharing a pleasant meal with Oscar’s family. He’d dream sometimes that his parents—or his mother, at least—would wake up one day and the spell of the Witnesses would be broken, and their family would come back together again.
It wasn’t a particularly happy family, but he still felt its loss, unmoored from his childhood. It was like his first eighteen years vanished the moment he stepped on a plane to California, leaving everything he had ever known behind. It was hard to get over the loss of your parents. It was even harder when it wasn’t death that separated you.
Yet here she was, like a ghost haunting his new life. Did she truly want to be a part of it? There was no reason for her to come tonight otherwise, was there? His father hadn’t come, so clearly, he didn’t approve. Had his mother defied him? Was she having second thoughts after all? It seemed impossible, particularly after their last conversation. But maybe something had changed.
Dinner concluded without any disturbances. Noah’s tension had eased a bit, although he wasn’t exactly relaxed. At least nothing catastrophic had happened.
“I really should go,” his mother said.
“Oh, no—stay for coffee, please,” Carmen said.
His mother’s gaze darted toward Bette, but she demurred. “No, my husband will be expecting me.” She gathered her purse and stood.
Carmen stood as well. “I’ll see you to the door.”
Noah should probably see his mother to the door, too. He picked up Bette.
“You need me?” Oscar asked quietly.
“No,” Noah said. “I’m fine.”
But as soon as the words left his lips, he saw his mother talking to Crystal in a low voice. She pressed something into her hand. A pamphlet. His heart sank. He shut his eyes and steeled himself. Almost over.
He, Carmen, and his mother approached the door.
“You should come again,” Carmen said. “And next time, bring your husband.”
His mother smiled tightly. “We’ll see. I understand that you are Bette’s caretaker. I was wondering if I could drop by once Noah returns to work?”
“Of course!” Carmen said brightly.
His mother kissed Bette on the cheek. “I’ll see you again soon, little one.” She turned and left without saying a word to Noah, or even looking at him. In fact, he realized she hadn’t said a word to him the entire time she’d been there.
It was like a punch to the gut. Of course. She was here to get access to Bette. It had never been about him at all.
“That went well,” Carmen said. “You see? I told you we’d change her mind.”
Noah’s stomach roiled. He shoved Bette at Carmen. “Take her—I have to—I’m going to be—”
But he couldn’t finish the sentence. As soon as Carmen took the baby, Noah darted to the bathroom. He barely made it before he threw up.
8
He had just finished emptying his stomach when there was a frantic knock on the door.
“Noah!” It was Carmen. “Noah, are you all right in there?”
No. “I’m fine,” he forced himself to say. “Just a little sick to my stomach.”
“It’s a migraine, isn’t it? Oh, you poor thing! Can I come in?”
“No!” It was more emphatic than he had intended. “Can you get Oscar?” he finished weakly.
“Of course, sweetie. I’ll go get him, and an ice pack. And some chamomile tea.”
Noah rested his head against the cool porcelain and tried to pull himself together. He could hold it together long enough to get home. He didn’t want to lose it in front of the whole Lozada clan.
Another knock. “Babe? It’s me.”
Noah spat into the toilet one more time. “Come in.”
He meant to stand up, but somehow couldn’t manage it. Oscar sat down beside him and put a hand on his back. “What’s going on? Do you really have a migraine?”
“No.” He tried to stop his hands from shaking. “My mom wants to come see Bette here, while we’re at work. That’s what this was about—to get in with your folks. Your mom said she could.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want her seeing Bette, not when we aren’t here.”
Oscar rubbed his face. “Fucking Mom,” he muttered under his breath, then louder, “No way in hell are either of your parents getting access to our baby when we aren’t around. I’ll talk to Mom.”
Noah leaned against him. “Thanks.”
Oscar put his arm around him. “There’s something else going on, isn’t there?”
Noah hesitated, but he didn’t have much choice anymore. The family needed to understand why his parents had to be kept away. “Back at the hospital a few days ago, I got into a fight with my parents.”
“I knew it,” Oscar said with triumph, then quickly added, “Sorry. Go on.”
Noah took a shaky breath before continuing. “He said that it was my fault that she got sick. That it was Jehovah’s punishment on me. He said that I-I am a poison, and filth, and—” He squeezed his eyes shut. He wouldn’t break down, not here. “Your mom has to know that my parents can’t be ‘won over
.’ Can you make her understand?”
Oscar didn’t respond right away. He’d gone rigid.
Noah frowned. “Oscar?”
Oscar stood up and offered a hand to Noah. “Come on. You should lie down. I’ll talk to Mom and get Bette ready to go.”
Oscar led him to his parents’ room. Carmen met them there, ice pack in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. “You lie down, sweetie. I will take care of you.”
“He needs some quiet right now, Mom,” Oscar said, his voice tight. “And I need to talk to you.”
Carmen frowned. “Of course.”
They left Noah on the bed with the ice pack and the tea. They were barely out of the room before Oscar started laying into her. Noah put the pillow over his head. He didn’t want to hear it.
A few minutes later, there was a light tap on the door. “Hey, it’s Nikki. Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Nikki sat on the edge of the bed. “Sorry about your headache,” she said. “And your mom. She sucks.”
Noah laughed a little. “Thanks.”
“Oscar’s really laying into Mom. What happened?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” She put her hand in her pocket. “You sure you don’t want that edible? It might help.”
Noah sat up. Nikki was holding out a plastic bag with one hard, pink candy inside. He had only had pot once in his life, at Oscar’s insistence, back when they were still dating. He’d taken a hit out of Oscar’s bong and had a coughing fit so bad he nearly threw up. The dizzy feeling that had come after was underwhelming. He hadn’t wanted to try again, and Oscar had quit weed for good shortly afterward.
But he’d do anything to get away from what he was feeling now. “Sure.”
Nikki removed the candy from the baggie and handed it to Noah. “It takes a while to kick in,” she said. “Drink lots of water.”
Noah put it in his mouth. It was watermelon flavored. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d never have guessed that it was anything other than a hard candy.
She pulled him into a hug. “Hope it helps. Sorry everything is terrible.”
Noah returned the hug. “Thanks.”
After she left, he put the ice pack on his head and lay back down, sucking on the candy. It didn’t take long to dissolve, leaving a sweet, sticky taste in his mouth. The panic and sickness of before had left him, and he just felt empty. He shut his eyes.
Some time later, Oscar returned. “You ready to go?”
Noah sat up and put the ice pack on the nightstand. He hadn’t touched his tea. “Yeah.”
Oscar grunted. “I’ll get Bette.” He left again. Noah winced. He didn’t seem happy.
Noah braced himself as he entered the living room. Carmen rushed over to him and put her arms around him. “Oh honey, I am so sorry! I had no idea.” She pulled back; her mascara was running. “Horrible, nasty people, saying things like that to their own son. I would have never invited them if I knew!”
Miguel joined them. “Such people are not welcome in my house. So don’t you worry. I will give them a piece of my mind if they ever show up again.”
“We all will,” Alex said. “No one talks to you like that. You’re a Lozada.”
“Thanks,” Noah said weakly. It meant a lot, but he just wanted to go home.
Oscar had Bette strapped into her seat, her diaper bag slung over his shoulder. “I’ll get Bette in the car,” he said brusquely.
Noah’s shoulders tensed. Was everything okay?
Everyone gave him a goodbye hug, even Stephanie, who wasn’t much of a hugger. When he got outside at last, the car was already running. Noah got in.
Neither of them said anything on the drive. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. They were always quiet on the way home from Sunday dinner so that Bette would fall asleep on the way home. But Oscar’s hands were tight on the wheel in a way that made Noah uneasy.
Bette fell asleep as usual. Oscar was the expert at sleeping baby transfers, so he took her upstairs. Noah sat on the couch. He was starting to feel a bit strange. The world around him was crystal clear but far away, like he was looking through a telescope. It seemed the edible was kicking in.
And now Oscar was back, a serious expression on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
Noah covered his face. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you!” Oscar shouted. “I’m mad at your shitty parents!”
“Then why are you yelling at me?”
“I’m not—!” Oscar took a deep breath. “Okay, maybe I am a little mad at you. What the hell, Noah? I’m your husband. I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me these things.”
“And how would you help?” Noah asked. “By starting a fight with them?”
“I wouldn’t start anything.” Oscar crossed his arms. “They started it.”
“And that’s what I mean! I don’t want a war. I don’t want to engage with them at all.”
“Then give me your mom’s number,” Oscar said. “And your dad’s. I’ll take care of it.”
It was too much. Noah stood up and stumbled toward the stairs. Each step he took felt like he was retreating further and further from the world. Sounds were like echoes. Oscar was saying something behind him, but he didn’t register it. He made it to the bed and collapsed, lying on his side. He felt very distant now, but his heart had slowed. A pleasant buzz pulsed through him. He held up his hand and waved it back and forth. It felt nice to move.
“Are you listening to me?”
With some effort, Noah turned his attention to Oscar. “What?”
Oscar’s expression shifted from angry to concerned. He sat down beside him. “Baby, are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I—may have taken an edible.”
Oscar blinked. “An edible?”
“From Nikki.”
Oscar put his head in his hands. Noah was worried that he was angry, but then he started laughing. “I guess there’s not much point in continuing this conversation now, huh?”
“Probably not.”
Oscar lay down and spooned Noah, giving the back of his neck a kiss. “Sorry I yelled at you.”.
“‘S okay.” Noah shut his eyes and sighed. The pleasant feeling engulfed him, as warm and firm as Oscar’s arms around him. He could let go for once, and not be afraid of falling apart. “Oscar?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I really like marijuana.”
Oscar chuckled, a warm rumble against his back. “Yeah, it can be pretty great. Just don’t go turning into a stoner on me.”
“Why not? I’m a lot of things. Doesn’t really matter.” He snuggled in closer. “When I was a kid, I used to wonder if Jehovah hated some sins more than others. I mean, out of the big ones, the ones that could get you disfellowshipped. Adultery, fornication, gambling, blasphemy, drug use, disagreeing with the elders, drunkenness, cigarette smoking, getting a blood transfusion, voting—”
“You can be disfellowshipped for voting?”
“Mm-hmm. We’re politically neutral. No joining the military either or attending faith services of any other religion. No celebrating holidays or birthdays, obviously.”
“Hold up. Celebrating your birthday is a disfellowshipment-level sin?”
“Sure is. And absolutely no communicating with apostates. Not even to say hello. But one day, Uncle Zeke emailed me, after he’d been disfellowshipped. And I wrote him back. That would be enough to get me kicked out too if the elders found out—I mean, they probably wouldn’t. I’d probably get warned first.” He shut his eyes. Colors swirled. “It used to scare me so much, to be disfellowshipped. If you get kicked out, that’s it for you. When you die, it’s forever.”
“So you don’t go to Heaven.”
“Only 144,000 people go to heaven. Everyone else is resurrected on Earth after the Apocalypse, when God will make it a paradise again. There’s no war or pain or suffering, and you get a p
erfect body and will live forever. But only if you are faithful. Anyone who isn’t a Witness is annihilated forever.”
“Wow. That’s messed up.”
Noah hugged Oscar’s arm tight against him. “I used to pray to Jehovah to fix me. Even before I knew I was gay, I knew I was wrong. Ever since I could remember. I wasn’t good enough, could never be good enough. But Jehovah never answered me. So then I started to pray for him to annihilate me, right then. Just bam, get it over with. You know?”
“You wanted to kill yourself?” The question was gentle.
Noah frowned. “No, not exactly. I just wanted some relief, to not have to wake up every day and wonder if I was good enough. To not have to go to meetings in Kingdom Hall four days a week, asking and answering the same questions, over and over again. No more knocking on doors, no more stares, no more being made fun of, no more uncomfortable shoes and suits. No more getting screamed at, no more getting hit. No more hating myself for feelings I couldn’t stop. Just no more anything. That would really be paradise.”
Oscar stiffened, but he kept his voice calm. “Who hit you?”
“My dad, mostly when I was younger. I wasn’t abused or anything. You should have seen how some other parents dealt with squirmy kids at Kingdom Hall meetings. And anyway, my mom always stopped it before he went too far.” Noah yawned. “I’m sleepy.”
Oscar kissed the back of his neck. “Then go to sleep. I’ve got you, always.”
Noah drifted away, a part of his mind screaming at him that he’d betrayed a secret, that it was a sin to speak against your father. But with the weed and his husband’s arms around him, the voice was easier to ignore.
Noah woke up with cotton mouth and a raging headache. He looked at the clock with a jolt. Nine o’clock. Oscar should be at work, and Bette should be awake. Why hadn’t he heard her? The baby monitor was silent.
He lurched out of bed, cursing himself as memories of the previous day flooded through him. He couldn’t believe he’d actually taken drugs. A legal drug, sure, but still. He was a horrible father, a horrible husband. But when he got to Bette’s room, she wasn’t there. Panic ripped through him until he heard Bette’s bouncer squeaking and someone puttering around in the kitchen.