Page 61 of Every Hidden Truth

17

Girls, Boys, or… Trees

Peering through the curtains,I watched as Ben backed out of my driveway and drove away. Unable to procrastinate any longer, I heaved a deep breath and prepared for an inevitably uncomfortable conversation with my dad.

Straightening my shirt, I buttoned it closed and attempted to tame my hair. With my hands in my pockets, I approached the doorway to the kitchen, steeling myself. Dad wasn’t a shouter, but he’d also never caught me messing around with a boy in his living room before.

My orientation wasn’t something we talked about. He’d never acted like it was a bad thing, but the few moments it had come up, he’d changed the subject as quickly as possible. I knew he loved me, but I couldn’t help wondering if he loved medespitemy sexuality, not including it.

As I shuffled into the kitchen, I watched Dad as he washed the dirty dishes from yesterday. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or not,so I propped my hip on the counter and chewed the inside of my cheek, searching for something to say.

He tensed when I eventually broke the silence. “You don’t need to wash those. I was gonna do it later.”

Pausing in his scrubbing, he shrugged. “Cleaning can be therapeutic.”

I winced, dread settling heavily in my gut at his words. I opened my mouth to apologize, but he spoke again before I could.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Uh, yeah. It’s still kind of new,” I said like it explained anything at all.

“How long have you two been dating?” He rinsed a pan and set it in the drying rack beside the sink.

“Almost a month.”

Dad nodded as he dried his hands, and I crossed my arms over my chest as he faced me. I didn’t know what I expected—anger, disappointment, disgust maybe, but I found none of it in his face. He seemed curious more than anything.

“I don’t recognize him. Is he in theater with you?”

I shook my head and stared down at my socked feet. “No, he’s a diver.”

His tone filled with genuine surprise. “You’re dating a jock?”

“He isn’t a jock, Dad. He’s actually kind of a nerd. He studies computer codes for fun and is, like, crazy smart and shit.”

He nodded, his expression indecipherable. “Well, he seems nice.”

“He is nice, too nice if you ask me. He’s way nicer than I am; I don’t even know why he likes me.” I bit my tongue to stop my rambling.

An odd smile played at the corners of Dad’s mouth. “You must like him a lot to speak so highly of him.”

“He’s alright.” I shrugged noncommittally, and his knowing smile widened.

“Sure.” He crossed his arms over his thick chest, the fabric of his dress shirt stretching over his belly. “You, uh, look fancy. Date night?”

For some reason, admitting to the dance was almost as embarrassing as Dad catching us doing the dirty. “Um, we went to the winter dance. At school.”

The words jumbled together, and Dad leaned forward to catch them. “A school dance? Wow, you mustreallylike this boy.”

“It was just a dance,” I said defensively.

“Sure,” he repeated.

Another awkward silence filled the space between us, and I fingered the rainbow suspenders dangling from the waistband of my jeans. Neither Dad nor I had ever been good at this, the whole talking thing. My stomach twisted tighter with every uncomfortable second that passed.

“Uh, listen, Silas—”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I interrupted in a rush. “I wasn’t expecting you home tonight. We would never have—I mean, on the couch… Shit, I didn’t mean—”

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