Page 51 of A Case of You
Oh, boy.
* * * *
Stuart mostly kept his mouth shut unless he was asked a direct question. His parents were church-social polite, meaning he could tell they weren’t exactly thrilled to have what they perceived as one of the reasons for their son’s express ticket to Hell sitting at their kitchen table, but his mom wouldn’t let Brandon get up and help with anything while his dad sought refuge in the safety of asking Brandon about his job.
He also seemed suitably impressed when Brandon gave him the details about his job, of how he was a district manager, yet Brandon didn’t drift into bragging, which his father would have hated immediately.
He also seemed impressed that Brandon had worked his way up from high school and a part-time entry-level position to where he was now. And that he didn’t get his college degree until his thirties, and only because at that point he was trying to support a child and move ahead in the company.
Finally, his dad turned his focus on Stuart. “That electrician’s job working for you a’right then?”
“Yes, sir. They paid for me to get my state contractor’s license. The owner’s a very nice guy, Cedro Luzon. Small, family-owned company. We do a lot of new construction work for developers. Keeps us really busy. Great group of people I work with, too.”
His father nodded as he stirred milk into his coffee. “I wan’t sure ’bout you goin’ to vo-tech, but glad it worked out. Bein’ an electrician’s a good trade.”
“Thank you. Me, too.” He’d spent a lot of afternoons and weekends busting his hump working during high school to save up the bulk of the tuition, until his parents kicked in the last couple grand for him as a loan, which he’d long since paid back.
His father glanced at Brandon for a long, uncomfortable moment before his gaze returned to his coffee. “You happy?”
“Yes, sir.” Under the table, he reached out with his left leg and pressed his foot against Brandon’s. “I’m very happy.”
He finally nodded. “Okay.” He shot a glare at Brandon. “Guess I won’t say anymore, then. Glad you came back to support your sister.”
“Thank you for…letting me.” He realized too late maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, but now it hung in the room, heavy and thick in the warm, stale kitchen air that smelled like bacon and desperation.
Another uncomfortable set of feelings from childhood.
His mother forced a smile. “It’s the bride’s big day, and she’s not pregnant. That’s all that should matter.”
He suspected Brandon’s sudden coughing attack masked laughter.
* * * *
Fortunately, Brandon didn’t need Stuart’s guidance to get them back to the hotel. Stuart sat slumped in the passenger seat, staring out the windshield while wearing a sullen expression Brandon had never seen on his boy before.
Instead of trying to prod him to talk, he let him sit and have time to absorb the visit. They’d spent nearly two hours with Stuart’s parents, Brandon finally leaving with the excuse that he had to return to the hotel and do some work before the rehearsal dinner.
As far as Brandon could tell, the visit went well. No screaming, no pointed fingers, and not a single homophobic slur uttered.
Hecalled that a win, although from the way Stuart acted, Brandon wasn’t sure his boy felt the same. He wasn’t going to try to dissect Stuart’s apparent mood without letting him speak his mind first. That’d be a pointless waste of energy.
They were still fifteen minutes from the hotel when Stuart reached over and took his hand, holding it tightly.
Desperately.
“Feel like talking?” Brandon gently asked.
“I don’t know how to feel.”
“That’s okay.”
Stuart fell silent for a long moment. “I guess that went…well? I don’t know. Better than I thought it would.”
“That’s good then.”
“I guess.”
“If Jake starts in tonight, you listen to me, and you let me and John handle him. Understand?”
