by Ashlyn Kane
“Tell us about New York. How’s the job?” Mom asked.
Harper shrugged in response, digging a cola from the fridge. “Same as always. Not much is new.” Harper gave a small smile and patiently answered all of his mother’s questions: the job was good; yes, it was very busy; no, he didn’t have a girl; and no, he didn’t have bad jetlag. After some time, when their mom had begun to slow down, the time between her questions lengthening, Harper gave a smile and said, “Enough about me! Tell me what’s new around here!”
“Oh, you know how little things change around here. Emerson and Kierstyn go to school, Dad runs the shop. Hudson Bend isn’t as exciting as New York.” Their mother smiled, and Harper shrugged. “Besides, you hear about it when we talk on the phone,” she added without irony. Emerson guessed she felt she was much more thorough in her reporting.
Harper snorted. “Not everything. You never told me about Em being gay now.”
There was silence.
Emerson felt his fingers go numb. He stood there staring at his brother, dumbfounded. How had Harper known? Why had he said anything?
His father broke the silence first with a surprised demand of, “What?” It was followed closely by his mother wanting to know, “What on earth does that mean?”
Harper frowned. “I saw Emerson in Austin with his boyfriend? Well, I thought he was… they were kissing.”
“You must have been mistaken,” said Mom. “It’s been two years since you last saw him; obviously you were mistaken.”
“Mom, I know my own brother when I see him,” said Harper, sounding exasperated.
“Obviously you don’t! Not if you think you saw him kissing a man!”
Emerson’s stomach lurched violently at his mother’s words.
“Ask him!” Harper waved a hand in Emerson’s direction in a wide, sweeping arc. Four sets of eyes turned to regard him. Emerson’s throat was suddenly so dry he couldn’t swallow. He didn’t think he could speak. Oh God. They know. They all know! He felt like he might swallow his tongue. Throwing up was also a likely response. He stared back at them, silent.
His lack of protest was damning. His mother went pale and murmured a soft, “Oh,” before turning back to cooking the pumpkin for tomorrow’s pie.
“Emerson?”
Emerson moved his wide-eyed gaze to his father. He wondered desperately what his father would say. Would he ask Emerson directly if he had been kissing another man in public? He wondered what he would say to that in response. If he could talk—Emerson was starting to think he’d misplaced his tongue.
“Wait,” said Harper, sounding bewildered. “You really didn’t know?”
“Of course we didn’t know,” Dad snapped. “There’s nothing to know. Obviously you were mistaken. Emerson is not gay.”
Emerson flinched at that and pressed his body closer to the kitchen counter behind him.
Harper snorted. “Dad, he looks like a deer in the headlights. I think it’s safe to say I was right.”
His father turned to look at him again. Emerson stared back. “Emerson, don’t you have anything to say? Or are you just going to ignore this?”
Emerson opened his mouth, but no words came out. His father turned away from him, seemingly unbothered by his silence. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. Emerson isn’t gay! He would have told us! And I know my boy. He wouldn’t go around kissing men—anyone—in public. Or get in a relationship without saying anything.”
There was a loud squelching noise, and everyone turned to look. Emerson’s mom was violently attacking the pumpkin with a potato masher. She seemed unfazed by the noise and apparently didn’t notice the attention.
Emerson didn’t know what to do about that either.
“Linda?” Emerson saw his father frown at his mother. Then his expression shifted, and he started to talk again. “Calm down, Linda, there’s no reason to attack tomorrow’s dinner.”
Her movements began to slow until they finally stopped, but she didn’t loosen her grip on the handle of the masher. She just stood there, silent and still, doing nothing.
Oh God, Emerson thought numbly. I’ve broken my mother.
For a long time there was silence, though it was far from still. Emerson’s dad had taken to shifting and gesturing agitatedly. The silence was broken by a sob. Emerson’s eyes widened when he saw his mother’s shoulders shake. She was crying! Emerson had made his mother cry.
The last time he had seen his mother cry had been during that weepy phase after his dad’s heart attack. Your homosexuality is as awful as a heart attack. It’s like near-death, like watching someone almost die, a bitter voice whispered in his mind. Emerson tried to stamp it down.
“Oh Jesus,” murmured Harper. Emerson realized then that he wasn’t very successful at shutting the voice up when he got the sudden urge to yell at Harper for spoiling everything. What had given Harper the right to say anything?
Their father shot Harper a dirty look before walking up to his wife. “Linda?”
“I’m sorry!” she gasped. She turned away from the pumpkin, and Emerson could see her in profile then, though her back was now to her eldest and her husband. She lifted her hands to cover her face.
“Linda? Why are you crying?” She took her hands away from her face and moved to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Emerson’s not—” he began again. This time he was cut off.
“Oh, John, don’t be a fool. Of course he is—just look at his face.” Then, suddenly, everyone turned to look at Emerson once more.
Emerson stared back, uncertain as to what to say or do. What could he possibly say to that?
“Emerson, are you—?” His father didn’t so much finish the question as he did start waving his hands around in the air in some incomprehensible way that was, apparently, meant to mean “gay.”
“Uh,” Emerson managed to get out. They kept staring at him. Apparently this would require an actual answer. “Yes?” he whispered.
Harper snorted. “Are you not sure?”
“Harper!” snapped their mother, and Harper cringed.
“What?” It seemed that Emerson’s father had regained his voice after a brief moment of shocked silence. “But—you never said…. Since when?” His eyes were baffled as he stared at his son.
Emerson shifted under the scrutiny. “Uh,” he said again. He cleared his throat. His fingers clenched, and he realized he was still holding his water glass. “Since ninth grade.” His voice was rough, and his sentence rose slightly at the end, making him sound uncertain once again.
“Ninth?” His father asked. “Since you were fourteen?”
“That was five years ago,” his mother whispered. “You didn’t tell us for five years?” She turned away from him.
“Uh,” said Emerson, not sure what to say to that.
“And is Harper right? Do you have a boyfriend?” His father’s voice rose as he asked the question, visibly disconcerted by the prospect.
“No,” Emerson blurted. “It was just a date.”
“A date,” muttered his father. “With another man.” He ran his hands over his head before shaking it. “I don’t know what to say—what to do about this.”
“Do?” Emerson asked, voice small. He remembered then all the stories he had heard of gay teens being tossed out of their house. True, Emerson was nineteen now, an adult, but he needed his parents’ money to live and go to school. Without them, his life as he knew it would be completely changed.
His father grunted.
Emerson wanted to ask him if “do” might include tossing his second-born out onto the streets, but he didn’t have the courage.
“I don’t understand,” said Kierstyn suddenly. Emerson jumped; he had forgotten she was there. Judging by the way others reacted, he wasn’t the only one.
“Emerson’s gay, honey,” his mother started to say, but she was interrupted when Kierstyn rolled her eyes and continued.
“I got that—I know what it means, bu
t—” She hesitated, looking uncertain now. “Why are you crying?” She looked genuinely puzzled. “You always said that there was nothing wrong with being homosexual, even if other people said there was. What’s the big deal?”
Their mom started to cry harder.
Emerson just stood there, frozen. He wanted to move, but he didn’t know where to go. He felt like crying but knew no tears would come.
He wanted to repeat Kierstyn’s question. They weren’t homophobic, so why were they acting this way? But then, part of him had always guessed they wouldn’t react well, or he would have told them years ago.
Emerson felt guilt fill his stomach, causing it to curl. He wished suddenly that he wasn’t here, that he was wherever Jonah was.
Emerson looked down and stared at his water glass. He wasn’t feeling very thirsty anymore. In fact, he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to swallow anything. Turning, he placed the glass on the counter. He didn’t fail to notice the way his fingers were trembling. God, he wasn’t ready for this. He really wasn’t ready to tell them, and he certainly wasn’t ready to deal with the fallout.
“This is….” Emerson’s dad was talking again. “This is crazy—how can you be—Emerson, how can—” He went on like this for some time, rambling about Emerson and the shock of his being gay, especially lingering on how Emerson had never given them a sign of this before. When he said, “I just don’t understand how you could never tell us. You never even gave us a sign,” Emerson’s mother let out a gasp. Her shoulders were twitching with the force of her tears.
“Christ,” Harper murmured, turning away.
Kierstyn, Emerson noted, was also looking distressed. She was biting her lip, and her eyes were shining with tears, but she didn’t hesitate when she moved to walk over to him. She stood next to him, and after a moment, she reached out to grip one of his trembling hands in her own. Emerson licked his lips and tried to find his voice to thank her but was able only to mouth the words.
It was then, as he stood clutching his sister’s hand while his father kept pacing and gesturing, while his mother cried, and his brother turned his back on them, that the doorbell rang. It was then that Emerson remembered that the Cherneskis were due for dinner.
§
EMERSON wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face in his knees. He had placed himself on the floor, leaning back against the other side of the bed, using it as a buffer between himself and his bedroom door. As an extra precaution, the door was locked.
He had retreated to his room not long after the Cherneskis arrived. The chaos they had prompted had made the whole situation unbearable for him.
Mr. and Mrs. Cherneski had shown proper concern when they had arrived to find his mother weeping and his father incoherent. It was Kierstyn who had oh-so-helpfully told them the cause. Emerson wasn’t upset with her about it, though—despite the wisdom she had shown at holding his hand when he needed the support, she was still only twelve.
Mr. and Mrs. Cherneski had both looked shocked at Kierstyn’s blurted announcement and had stuttered in their first attempts at responding. Obviously neither knew how to react to such news.
Emerson sniffed and rubbed his face against the fabric of his jeans. Now that he was alone, the tears were finally coming. He blinked against them, trying to stop them from falling.
He’d been relatively successful at bearing the looks from Mr. and Mrs. Cherneski and at dealing with his parents’ distress until Natalie had broken an awkward silence by asking, “Wait, are you all really surprised? You mean you didn’t know? I thought we were all just waiting for him to tell us.” Emerson had been stunned—Natalie knew?
Her remark had been met with similar shock from the others—except for Emerson’s mother, who had made a strangled noise before letting out a loud sob and crying in earnest. It was then that Emerson had decided that he could no longer deal with the situation. He had untangled his fingers from Kierstyn’s before making his retreat.
Now he was hiding in his bedroom, his door was locked to keep anyone else out, and he really, really wanted Jonah.
Jonah, who wasn’t here and was unreachable by phone.
Emerson picked up his cell. He hesitated over the contacts. Part of him wanted to phone Zack—the man he always ran to with his problems these days—but he knew Zack would be volatile and indignant, and Emerson didn’t want that right now.
He considered Hayley, but she too was likely to get angry at Harper and his parents. What Emerson really wanted was a calming influence. Greg it was, then.
Greg answered with his usual sleepy-sounding, “’Lo?”
“Greg, my life just turned to shit,” was Emerson’s opener.
There was a pause, then Greg said, “Okay. Tell me what happened.”
He did. Emerson recounted the whole evening, ending with, “Mom just started crying harder, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” Greg had listened in almost-silence, making short comments or noises of sympathy.
“Where are you now?”
“My room. Door’s locked.”
Greg made a slight snorting sound. “So you’re hiding.”
“Maybe.” Emerson rubbed a hand over his face. “My parents hate me.”
“They don’t hate you, Em. They’re just reeling. Give ’em some time to adjust.”
Emerson sniffed.
“Look, Em, I know it seems bad right now, but give them a few days to get used to the idea before you decide that they hate you.”
Emerson bit his lip and shifted. “Okay.”
“Adjusting to the fact that their baby boy likes to suck cock will take some time,” he said. Emerson could hear the smirk. He groaned. He had forgotten that there was a good reason Greg hung out with Zack.
“Feeling calmer now?” Greg asked.
Emerson nodded and then, remembering the phone, grunted an affirmative.
“Good. Now, you pulled me away from apple pie. I like pie. So go and get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”
Emerson wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t have the energy to argue with Greg. Instead, he said goodnight and hung up.
He stared at his phone for a long minute and wished that he could call Jonah. Thoughts of the other man only made him miss him more. He missed Jonah like crazy—he always did, but right now, he really wished that Jonah were here to hold him and tell him that everything would be okay again.
When the tears threatened to come this time, Emerson couldn’t stop them. He gasped and pressed his leaking eyes into his knees, once again wrapping his arms around his legs. Sobs wracked his body and made him shake and tremble.
Some minutes later, when he was able to calm himself, he lifted his face from his knees and uncoiled his arms from his legs so that he could wipe the tears from his cheeks.
It was then that he decided that if he couldn’t call Jonah, if the only means of communication he possessed was letters, then he would write Jonah a letter right now.
He leaned over to grab a notebook and pen from his desk and started to write. He’d mail it tomorrow. It wasn’t Jonah’s voice or arms, but it was all he had, so Emerson would take it.
§
Jonah,
I’m writing this while hiding in my room. The door is locked, and I’m contemplating just staying here until Monday. I can leave for Austin on Monday and just stay there all week. Zack and Greg love me enough to let me live on their couch.
Right, okay, so I should explain instead of rambling so much.
Last Monday night, I had a date. It wasn’t serious or anything, but it wasn’t the first with this guy, so I let him hold my hand and kiss me a few times. Which turned out to be the biggest mistake ever. I didn’t notice him at all, but Harper SAW US. He saw ME on a DATE with another MAN!
Today he showed up, and we’re all standing around talking when he suddenly comes out with, “When did Emerson become a fag?” God, everyone went silent, and then Mom and Dad started demanding to know what he meant, and I was
just staring at Harper, and then he tells them about seeing me KISSING A MAN!
Mom started crying, and Dad kept rambling, and I couldn’t tell what Harper thought. Kierstyn’s been awesome, as she’s the only one not freaking out.
Things got so much worse, though, because your parents and Natalie showed up for dinner, and we hadn’t even set the table yet, and Mom was still crying, and so Kierstyn told them too. I wasn’t sure if I should start laughing or crying when Natalie said, “Well, yeah. You didn’t know? I thought we were just waiting for him to tell us?” Which made Mom cry even harder.
I ran away after that. Hid in my room. I’ve been hiding here since. I don’t have plans to leave my room anytime soon (midnight snack and bathroom runs don’t count as leaving). I don’t think I could handle seeing Mom cry again.
I really wish Zack, Greg, and Hayley were in town, but they all went home for the holiday. Fortunately for me (and unfortunately for Greg), I have their phone numbers.
On the upside, your family seemed totally cool about the being into dick thing?
Emerson
Chapter 10
Emerson,
I guess it’s too late for the “don’t panic” and is time for the “oh, shit” already. In other words: dude, that sucks. Are you sure it’s as bad as you think? Your parents aren’t just surprised? Maybe they just need some time. Give both sisters a hug from me. As for Harper, I don’t know what his problem is—he couldn’t have talked to you first? What the hell?! I always thought he was a dick. Wish I was wrong, though. Sorry.
If things don’t get better at home and Zack and Greg and Hayley get sick of you, which I doubt, and/or you decide you’d be safer out of state, which I also doubt, you know there is always a place for you here. I wish I could come home for you, but I really can’t give up the holiday hours, and it’s too late now anyway. This sort of thing makes me wish I had a computer. Maybe next time I get something published I’ll look into getting a used one.
