Page 189 of The Holy Grail
“I’m not happy about it, either,” Evan admitted.
“Mom, I told you I hit him first,” Malcom reminded her. “So, I deserved it.”
“He did split my lip, if that makes you feel better,” Evan told Beverly, tilting the phone so she could see the damage to his own face.
“No more fighting,” she said sternly in her patented ‘Mom’ voice, like she was dealing with a misbehaving child. “That will make me feel better.”
After both men agreed to that, Beverly brought the FaceTime call to an end, leaving Jules, Malcom, and Evan in a slightly uncomfortable silence.
While Malcom watched, Jules and Evan got themselves cups of coffee, then leaned against the counter, leaving the island between them and Malcom.
“I’m sorry about what happened last night,” he began, getting right to it. “I didn’t handle any of it very well—or at all—and I spent a large part of last night thinking through some things. Unfortunately, I spent too much time holding onto the belief it could have gone better, you know, like if it had happened in his house, instead of a public restaurant. And I know you—” he paused to look at Evan, “—said it wouldn’t have made a difference, but I kept telling myself it would have. As if his ability to accept me as I really am was in some way influenced or dependent on the location of the ‘reveal’.
“I also spent too much time not being able to accept the fact that what I’d thought might happen actuallywashappening. I think, when you have it in your mind what a specific consequence might be, you can’t fully grasp how it will impact you in real life, until it … impacts the fuck out of you in real life. And then, all of your so-called bravado and mental preparedness takes a giant shit and you don’t know what to do. Because even though you thought it could happen, deep down, you held out hope itwouldn’t.
“That was me, in the restaurant. It felt like I’d been hit with a sledgehammer. I couldn’t comprehend he’d actually threatened me, nor could I vocalize any kind of response, because who does that to their child? And I know I’m a grown man, but I’m still his son, and it just wouldn’t compute that he really wouldn’t want anything to do with me, in the event I choose to continue loving a man.
“So, it took me a little while to realize this was the situation I was in, it was one hundred percent real, and my father meant every ugly word he’d said to me. Once I came to terms with that—around 4:00 a.m. or so, after baking cookies for several hours—I was able to accept there wouldn’t be any tolerance, let alone acceptance from him, and I can live with that. What I can’t live without, though, is the two of you. So, there’s only one choice for me to make, no matter how surreal or unimaginable it is, which is to tell my father to go fuck himself.”
Evan released a sigh of relief. “Oh, God, am I glad to hear that.”
Blinking at Evan, Malcom asked, “Did you really think there was a chance I wouldn’t choose you?”
Since he seemed a little hurt at the possibility, Evan took a long sip of coffee to give himself a few extra seconds to come up with something reassuring. Instead, what came out was, “You said you were baking cookies?”
The unexpected detour of the conversation took Malcom by surprise. “Yes. Snickerdoodles,” he replied.
“That’s why it smells so good in here.”
“Evan.” Jules gave him a look that said,We’re having a serious discussion here.
“What? I’m sorry, but I didn’t have any breakfast, so I’m hungry … and Snickerdoodles are my favorite.” For a second, Evan looked almost boyish as he added, “They make everything better.”
“After we talk, you can have some,” Malcom said, before asking again, “So, did you really think there was a chance I wouldn’t choose you?”
Evan cleared his throat. “No. I mean, maybe a little chance. You know, like really small—”
“Yes, reallyreallysmall,” Jules added quickly.
Malcom looked from one to the other. “You two obviously talked about this last night after Evan got home from the bar?”
“Yes,” Jules answered.
Evan glanced at her. “You told him I was in a bar?”
“Yes.”
“What else did you tell him?”
“Just that you were in a bar, and when you got home, we talked a little bit.”
Slightly confused at her not having told Malcom everything, given it was her usual MO, Evan pressed, “Did you say what we talked about?”
“No. I said we’d talk about it in the morning when we got here. So, now that we’re here, feel free to start talking.”
Malcom was beginning to think he wasn’t going to like whatever it was he was going to be told, and watched with trepidation as Evan came around the island and sat down on one of the barstools.
Evan, clearly reluctant, slowly began to speak. “So … after our fight, I did go to a bar for a drink. Anyway—” he broke off for a moment, then continued, his voice low, “while I was there, I ended up talking to another man for a while—”
