Page 2 of Reaching Avery
She looked at me with sad eyes. “You two can work it out, right?”
I’d come out to my parents about two years before, and they had taken it pretty well. Both had been shocked at first. Mom had given me the biggest hug ever and told me she would support me no matter what. Dad hadn’t said much about it, but at least he hadn’t freaked out on me.
“Maybe,” I repeated.
Normally, I talked more, but I just wasn’t in the mood. I wanted to go crash on my bed and sleep for a few days.
Or at least until my heart stopped hurting.
“I’m making lemon-pepper chicken and roasted potatoes for dinner,” Mom said before giving me a gentle hug and walking toward the stove. “Go lay down for a while, sweet pea. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”
My eyes prickled, but I refused to cry in front of people. Mom knew me better than anyone. I nodded and walked up the stairs to my room.
Once inside, I finally let the tears fall.
***
“Maverick?” my dad said before opening my bedroom door. No knock or anything. Good thing I hadn’t been jacking-off or something. “Opening house is today. You going?”
I closed the comic book I was flipping through and looked up.
Mom said I was the spitting image of him, and I could sort of see it. We had the same square jaw and same shade of blue eyes. My sandy-brown hair matched his, but where he kept his short, I let mine grow out a bit.
“Yeah,” I answered, standing up and stretching. “I lost track of time.”
School was starting on Monday, and they always had an ‘opening house’ where students could pick up their schedules and see where their classrooms were going to be for that year. It was also a chance to talk to the teachers and meet any new ones. Attendance wasn’t mandatory, but I liked going.
Dad stared at me with unsure eyes. Studying me.
“How’re things?” he asked.
I knew he meant with Chris—my boyfriend—who I hadn’t talked to in over a week, nearing two, even though I had called him every freaking day. He had called me when he’d made it to New York, and then we had talked occasionally in the days following that. But as the weeks passed, the time between our conversations just became longer and longer.
“Great,” I lied.
He accepted my answer with a nod and closed the door.
Things weren’t exactly awkward with us, just weird at times.
Dad supported me like Mom did, but he still seemed to hold onto hope that I was just going through a phase with all thegay stuff. He wasn’t against gays or anything—he’d admitted that he’d been experimental in college as a rebellion against his conservative parents and had done some things with a guy in his dorm, which of course was a conversation I would’ve rather blocked out with a hot poker into my ears before listening to. He just wanted me to have anormallife: get married, have kids. All of that.
When I told him I could still have that life, just with another guy, he’d gotten real quiet and dropped the conversation. So, I’d never brought it up again.
I think that’s called an impasse. When there’s no chance at reaching an agreement, so you just let it go. I wasn’t upset that he hadn’t one-hundred percent come around yet. Well, notthatupset.
After getting in my car, I rolled down the windows since it was nice outside and drove to school.
I lived in a town in western Oregon called Port Haven. There was something almost magical about living there. The oceanic climate, historic buildings, harbor, and storefronts by the bay just did something to my mood. Sometimes the air carried with it saltiness, and the smell just reminded me of home. Like the only place I ever wanted to be.
Most kids couldn’t wait to move away after graduation.
I never wanted to leave.
The school was packed when I arrived, so I had to drive around a bit before I found a parking spot.
When I was younger, my parents had come with me to the opening house, but I was old enough now to go alone. As I walked toward the entrance, I saw kids walking with their parents, looking around at the buildings with confused faces.
Yeah, they must be the freshmen.
