Date Me, Bryson Keller(61)

If I were in any physical danger, I would have said yes. I know what awaits me at home isn’t fists or physical abuse. It’s disappointment and words shaped by religion and tinged with prejudice.

Bryson leads me to the Jeep and then we’re on our way. We reach home too fast. I sit unmoving and stare at my house. Both Mom’s and Dad’s cars are in the driveway, which means everyone is home. It’s Sunday evening, so of course that’s the case. Belatedly, I wonder if they went to church as they normally do. Did they go and try to pray the gay away?

Bryson lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I wish there was more I could do,” he says. There isn’t. It’s now or never. I reach for the door handle.

“Call me if you need me,” Bryson says as I open the door.

“Will do.”

I climb out of the Jeep and step firmly into reality.

“Thanks for today,” I say. “And for last night.”

“Anytime,” Bryson says. And I can tell that he means it. He will be there if I call, when I call. I don’t have a Prince Charming on a white horse. Instead, I have one in a white Jeep.

I stop before the front door and turn to look back. Bryson is still there. Somehow this feels a little easier knowing that I have him. I’m not completely alone.

    I wave, and he waves back. Then I turn to face the door that I’ve never before dreaded entering like I do now.

I close my eyes and turn the handle.

I step inside and shut the door behind me.





28


“I’m home,” I announce to no one in particular. I figure it’s the right thing to do. Despite everything, they are my parents, and I hope that they will always love me. That they will always care about my safety.

I pause to take off my shoes. Yazz runs down the stairs and barrels into me. I barely manage to keep us both upright.

“If you ever make me worry like that again, I’ll kill you myself,” Yazz says. She pulls back to study me. “I’m too young to get gray hair. Think of my beauty.”

I smile. “Thank you, Yazz.” She nods and lets me go. “Where is everyone?” I whisper.

Yazz shrugs. “This is the quietest our house has ever been.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She’s right, but it still feels that way. I walk up to my bedroom and close my door behind me. I turn on a playlist and hit shuffle. The music blares around me as I sit on my bed. This isn’t what I want. I don’t want my family to be this way just because I’m gay.

    I’m not sure how long I sit there and stare blankly ahead, but eventually I get up and change my clothes. My phone lights up with a text. I open the three musketeers group chat.

How is it? Donny asks.

Are you okay? Priya adds.

Yes. It’s scary quiet though.

Should we very naturally come over? Priya asks.

Yeah. It can be totally like, oh hey we wanted to visit. Nice to see you again. Totally normal, Donny adds.

I don’t know if that will make it better or worse, I say.

My phone vibrates with a call. Kelly flashes on-screen. I swipe to answer it.

“Hello.”

“Kai, are you all right?”

“No,” I say. “I’m not.”

“Should I come over?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m in my bedroom.”

“What did your parents say?”

“Nothing. I haven’t seen them.”

Bryson gets quiet. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

“This is enough,” I say to him. “Can we just stay like this for a while?”

So we stay like that. Not talking. Just listening to each other exist. I let three songs play before I break the silence.

“I’ll call you if anything happens,” I say eventually.

    “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

We hang up. There’s a knock at my door and Yazz pops her head in. “Dinner’s ready.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Even if that’s true, you have to do this,” Yazz says. “Never cower in front of the enemy.”

“Enemy? They’re our parents, Yazz.”

“Right now they are the enemy.” Yazz grabs my hand and yanks me from my bed. “You can do this. Say what you need to say. It’s not healthy to keep stuff bottled inside.”

“Are you sure you’re thirteen?”

“Maturity has nothing to do with age.” She pulls me out of my bedroom, toward the bathroom. “Wash your face.”

Yazz waits for me while I follow her instructions. I stare at myself in the mirror. My face looks pale, making the faint bruises stand out, and my eyes look lost. I take a calming breath, but it fails to do anything. Eventually I give up and leave the bathroom behind.

Yazz leads me down the stairs. When I get to the dining room table, Mom and Dad are already seated there. Dad looks up at me and our eyes meet, but I look away. Mom keeps staring at her plate of food. She’s fiddling with her gold cross pendant.

I’m about to turn around and run from the room, but Yazz takes my hand in hers and guides me to a seat. She slides into the seat next to Mom, and I take the one Yazz usually sits in.