A Family Dinner
He told me his parents were going to be out all day, “Won’t be back until real late.” He
said.
But just when things had started heating up, his bedroom door opened and a deep voice
echoed through the room, “Hey son, do you know whose car is in the . . .”
No one dared make a sound; the three of us just shared an awkward, wordless moment.
It was his father that finally broke the silence; as he slowly backed up, shutting the door,
he said, “Caleb, I just . . . you need to get dressed, send your, uh, little friend home, and then
we’re going to have a long talk.”
Caleb collapsed on top of me with a loud groan and smashed his face into my chest, his
long brown hair falling over my eyes, “This is bad.”
I patted his head as gently as I could and said, “You’ll be fine. It’s always awkward when
your parents catch you in the act, but you’re in college now, you’re an adult. Surely they had to
expect you would bring home a guy eventually.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure they were expecting me to bring someone home soon, but I doubt
they were expecting it to be a guy.”
“They don’t know?”
“Well, they do now!"
I clamped my mouth tight, holding back a laugh as best I could; it was a traumatic
experience for everyone, but honestly, this was all pretty damn funny, at least from an outsider’s
perspective, “Hey, look at the bright side, you were spared the awkwardness of the coming out
speech.”
“Ugh! This is a whole different kind of awkwardness though.”
I had no idea what else to say, so I just wrapped my arms around him and squeezed as
tightly as I could. This was not a situation I was equipped to deal with; my own coming out
being a rather boring affair. It was just more of a matter of fact.
I was sixteen, I came home from school one day and said, “Hey guys, I like boys not
girls.” And they said, “Okay.” That’s just the way it was in our household.
My heart always goes out to people who didn’t grow up in that kind of environment,
people who could be disowned or harmed or shamed by coming out, but I didn’t know exactly
what that was like. Nor did I know how to deal with your parents finding out you were gay by
walking in on you straddling a stranger.
“I suppose we should go face the music, huh?” Those were the best words I could think
of at the time; honestly, I really didn’t care who or what I had to face. I just wanted to get out of
that house.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Caleb slowly climbed off me and we began the process of gathering up our clothes,
which turned out to be quite the challenge. We were in a mad dash when taking them off, not
paying any attention to where things landed.
It took a minute, but we finished putting ourselves together and opened the door. As we
walked down the steps to what would undoubtably be an embarrassing encounter for all, I
grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. We may have only met twenty minutes ago, but I could
still offer him a little support.
At the bottom of the stairs, and off to the right, was a small den; there was a fireplace,
large, overstuffed chairs, and a middle-aged couple staring daggers at us. His father, a tall and
robust man with a long straggly beard, was leaning against the mantle, and his mother was in an
armchair bouncing a toddler on her knee. She had really pretty auburn hair and a thin frame.
The tension was palpable; even my heart had begun racing from nervousness and I didn’t
even know these people, “Nice to meet you folks; I’m Johnathon.” I gave them a little wave and
an awkward smile, and all I got back were long silent stares of death, “I-uh-I suppose I should be
going.”
“I think that’s a very good idea young man.” Caleb’s father said through gritted teeth.
Yeah, this was definitely not a situation I wanted to be in any longer.
I tried to let go of Caleb’s hand, but he was fighting me, his sweaty palm squeezing mine
with all its worth, “Oh, do-do you really need to be going?” He stared at me; all color seemingly
drained from his face.
“I think I do, but you . . . you have my number, right?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Ok, well, then, tex-text me,” It took a bit of force, but I finally managed to release
myself from his death grip, “Whenever you finish up here of course.”
Yeah, right. The second I managed to get out of this situation I was going to block his
number. I didn’t agree with ghosting as a principle, but this situation was just a bit too much for
me
“No, no, you don’t have to go, does he Bill?” Caleb’s mom said, turning toward her
husband.
“Dear, I think it would be best if he wasn’t here for this conversation.”
“Oh nonsense. I’m fine with all this. It’s fine. Sweetie, Caleb, it’s all fine. Johnathon,
really, it’s fine. Please, stay. Everything is perfectly fine.” Well, I was certainly convinced to;
since, you know, everything was fine.
Ugh! This was supposed to be just a one-time hookup. This was supposed to be a fun
afternoon, no commitments. It’s even plainly stated on my Grindr profile, “NSA, no strings
attached,” and the longer I stood there, the more I started to feel like the star in a marionette
show.
“Dear . . . I don’t think . . .”
“It’s fine!” She cleared her throat and plastered on a smile, “Caleb finally started dating
someone, and he seems like a real-um-gentleman, doesn’t he Bill?”
“I mean . . . I suppose . . . not really. I don’t know.”
“It’s definitely not the ideal way to find out, but-um-we’re pleased nonetheless.” His
mother stood up, tucking the baby onto her hip, and made her way over to me, hand outstretched,
“I’m Mrs. Smythe, Caleb’s mom, but I-I guess you figured that out.” She had a very firm grip.
I was a little dumbfounded. I looked to Caleb for some guidance, but he didn’t, or
couldn’t, say anything. He was just watching the whole situation unfold, eyes wide, mouth
agape; this clearly wasn’t going the way he had anticipated.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Smythe.”
She eventually let go of my hand and started making her way back to the armchair she
was just in, “Oh, my dear boy, feel free to call me Imelda. After all, you two must be very
serious to be engaging in . . . um . . . those kind of. . .” She cleared her throat again, “. . . adult
activities.” She said that last part with a giggle while turning a deep shade of burgundy. Sex was
clearly not an open topic in this household, “So-uh-just how long have you two been dating?”
We shared a quick glance.
“Oh, oh, w-well, you see-um-the. . . well, mom, the thing is . . .” It seemed Caleb was the
honest, albeit bumbling, type. It was actually kind of sweet.
I couldn’t help but feel bad for this poor guy. Undoubtably, no matter how this went
down, his life was forever changed, but an idea popped into my head. One that could potentially
soften the blow of it all. I swallowed hard; I knew it was a stupid idea. I knew it could lead to
further disaster and confusion, but it could also be very helpful for him. We’re supposed to help
our brothers and sisters of the community when they first come out right? Although this might be
taking things a bit too far.
Oh! Fuck it, right?
Time to bring on the strings and crank up the music; the marionette show was about to
begin.
While grabbing his hand and giving it a tight squeeze, I said, “He’s so silly. He can’t
remember our first date to save his life. Men, am I right Imelda?” Caleb’s eyes widened, but I
had already started down this road, “We’ve been together almost three months now, don’t you
remember sugar?”
Caleb cocked his head and stared directly into my eyes; he stood like that for an
uncomfortably long time. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he wasn’t careful his parents
were going to start seeing through my bullshit.
His features eventually softened, and he slowly opened his mouth, “R-right . . . three
months, darling . . . three months, officially dating. But we-we talked and hung out as friends for
a while before that; we took things real slow.”
“Exactly. Slow. Because we wanted to build a caring relationship before doing anything
too, um, extreme.”
“Right. That’s-that’s exactly right.”
Caleb and I seemed to have formed an unspoken understanding in that moment, and
hopefully his parents were buying this. We finally broke our gaze and turned back to them, and
boy were they tough to read.
“Well, isn’t that just . . . just lovely. Isn’t Bill?”
“I don’t know. Three months of dating and they started doing . . . that.” He motioned
toward his son’s bedroom as a disgusted look washed over his face; I did my best not to take
offense. I could only assume he was grossed out from finding his son having sex and not from
find out who it was with.
“Oh honey. It’s not like it was in our day; people move a lot faster now.” The baby had
started getting fussy, and Imelda was doing her best to stay present in the conversation and calm
the little one down, “We may have waited until marriage, but we were the exception not the
rule.”
Bill walked over to his wife and leaned very closely to her face, a little too close for my
own comfort, grabbing her arm in the process, “Yes, but how is it going to look that-that he . . .
that my son is-is . . .”
Her eyes narrowed, “It will look like you are a loving and caring father who supports his
children and doesn’t just think about himself. People will probably be surprised.” She pulled
away from him as best she could and attempted to stand, but he wouldn’t let her go, “If you will
excuse me, I have a dinner to make.”
Bill held her for another moment of two then loosened his grip. I was liking this man less
and less, “But, Imelda, we can’t just leave it here; Caleb needs to . . .”
“The only thing Caleb needs is dinner! And so do I. Now, as far as I’m concerned, this
matter is closed. Caleb, sweetie, I-we . . we love you and always will, no matter what. Isn’t that
right?” Silence, “Isn’t that right, Bill?”
“Yeah, yeah, yes of course, but . . .”
“Johnathon, I’d love to get to know you more; please say you’ll stay for dinner.” Imelda
had moved toward me and was gently touching my hand.
Fuck, I was already in too deep; how could I say no after everything I just saw, “It would
be my pleasure. So long as it’s okay with . . . everyone.” I switched my gaze between Caleb and
Bill; hoping one of them would find an excuse for me to leave. But I was just met with silence.
“Well, I guess it’s settled then.”
Bill stormed passed the three of us, bumping into me on his way out of the den, “I’ll be in
my office.”
I did my best not to make a big deal out of almost being pummeled by that man; this was
going to be a long evening, I could tell. It was for the best if I tried not to make too many more
waves.
“Johnathon, sweetie, I’m assuming you’re okay with vegetarian food, right?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for considering me. Do-do you want any help with dinner,
Imelda?”
“Oh, my sweet boy. No, no it’s perfectly fine. I can handle it.” The child she had been
toting was becoming more and more rowdy; she switched the baby to her other hip and started
bouncing him.
“Mom, at least let us watch Griff.” Caleb reached for the toddler, and he reached right
back.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to . . . I don’t know . . . ruin the mood or anything?” Griff
was almost falling over trying to grab ahold of Caleb.
“Little late for that, Mom.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it clearly wasn’t.
“It’s really no trouble, Imelda. I’m used to it; I’ve got three of them back home myself.”
Her eyes widened, “You what?”
“Oh! Oh, God no! Not like that.” What had I just said, “Sorry, they’re not mine; they are
my brothers and sister. A three-year-old and a set of two-year-old twins; I’m very used to being
around the kiddo is all I meant. Honestly, I don’t mind hanging out with this little guy for a bit.”
She let out a sigh of relief then passed the baby over to Caleb, “That’s incredibly sweet of
you two, and if you really don’t mind, it would be a great help. Thank you.”
We watched her walk down a small hallway and push through a swinging door positioned
at the end. Once she was out of sight, I exhaled, for what felt like the first time since I walked
down stairs, but I couldn’t relax for long. I could feel Caleb staring at me; his eyes were
practically burning a hole in my jacket.
“Look, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I did it. It just-it just felt like the right thing to do at
the time.”
“Ups! Ups!” Griff said, his head titled back and his fingers pointing at the ceiling; he was
practically wriggling in his brother’s arms.
Caleb rolled his eyes, then grabbed my hand, “Come on.” He pulled me upstairs and into
a room with powder blue walls, miniature furniture, and a random assortment of toys strewn
about. He put his brother down, and Griff waddled off, in that cute little bow-legged walk
toddlers do right after taking their first steps. He either found the toy he wanted or ran out of
steam because in one swift movement he plopped onto the ground, butt first.
Caleb locked a nearby baby gate into the door frame and motioned for me to sit on the
floor, “I understand why you did it, and believe me, I’m thankful. I have no interest in explaining
to my parents how I meet guys on a phone app.”
“So I wasn’t your first? After three months together, you’re just telling me this now?” I
was trying to lighten the mood, but based on the look he was giving me, I’d say I failed, “To-too
soon? Yeah, yeah I get it.”
He let out a groan of exasperation, “This-this is ridiculous. What exactly is-is the plan
here? I didn’t even know your name five minutes ago; how are we going to convince anyone
we’ve been dating?”
“We just have to get through tonight, get through this one meal. Then, you just don’t
bring me up again and then in like, like a month or so, you tell them we broke up. It doesn’t have
to be a big deal.” Please, please, to all the gods in all the countries in all the pantheons, please
don’t let it become a big deal.
Griff had stood up at this point and was walking toward us, a toy phone in hand, “For
ew.” He said, handing it to me.
“Oh! It’s for me. Who is it?”
“Uh um-um-it’s-it’s-it’s um. . . it’s um . . . I dun know!” Griff started to push the phone
toward my face, “Tak!”
“You don’t know? Uh-oh. I hope it’s not a bill collector, or worse . . . a charity call!” I
put the phone up to my ear; it was sticky. Boy, was this a familiar scenario; I couldn’t count how
many times I’ve played this particular game with my siblings.
“You don’t have to.” Caleb reached for the toy, but I squatted him away.
“It’s fine, honest.”
“Tak! Tak!”
“Oh! Right! Sorry. Can’t keep him on hold any longer huh?”
“No more hol’.”
“Hello, this is Johnathon speaking. Who is this?”
“Who is it Griff?” Caleb said in that high pitched overly excited tone we all use when
talking to a kid.
“I dun know.” He raised his shoulders and then turned to me, “Who it is?”
I searched the room, looking for a character or a toy that might be his favorite, and then I
spotted a collection of stuffed animals I recognized, “It’s the Wonder Pets!”
“Wonder Pets!” An expression of utter delight struck across his face, “Oooohhhh!!”
“No way . . . No . . . No . . . Oh, you’re never going to believe this Griff.” I said in my
most serious voice possible.
“Wa’? Wa’?”
“Hold on, they’re not done yet . . . And then what happened . . . he did what?”
“Wa’ he do?” Griff had started reaching for the phone again; I passed it back to him,
“Hellow! Hellow! Wonder Pets? Wonder Pets?”
“Oh no, did they hang up Griff?” Caleb said.
“Day hang up!”
“Well, they needed to go rescue a baby penguin!”
“Pain-geen?”
“Yeah, a baby penguin, he got stuck on the ice.”
“OH NO!”
Caleb started letting out a laugh but quickly fought it back; understandably, Griff was
super cute and super-duper excited.
“Oh no is right!”
“Help! Help pain-geen! Help pain-geen!”
“Okay! Let’s go help the penguin!”
The three of us then spent the next half hour helping various toys get out of problematic
situations. The penguin was relatively easy to save, but when his toy cat told us a fire truck got
stuck up a tree, we spent forever trying to rescue it.
Imelda’s voice echoed through house, “Dinner’s ready! Everybody come down!”
Getting Griff out of his bedroom and locked into his highchair was, of course, a struggle,
but it was a battle eventually won. I waited a moment before sitting down; I had to think about
what the most strategic arrangement was. Obviously, Caleb had to be on one side, but what about
the other side. Was it better to sit next to Bill and face Imelda or sit next to Imelda and face Bill?
I swallowed hard and made my decision; it was better to sit next to the Imelda, right?
Once we were all situated around the small dining table with a very delicious smelling
bowl of pasta and a tray of garlic bread in the middle, Imelda spoke up, “Well, isn’t this lovely;
all of us together?” She cleared her throat and pulled her chair closer to the table, “Now,
everyone grab hands. Let’s say Grace.”
Imelda reached over and clasped my hand; she gave it a light squeeze while smiling at
me. My other hand was damp from Caleb’s sweaty palm. I let out a sigh of relief that I wasn’t
gripping Bill’s hand in that moment.
“Dear heavenly Father, our redeemer, our forgiver . . . our guardian traditional family
values. We thank you for this bounty you have so mercifully bestowed on us today. And thank
you for my kind and beautiful wife, may she continue to follow your path as a loving and
obedient woman of Christ. And thank you for my son; Griffin is truly a blessing made in your
image. May we continue to receive your blessings and your tests of faith. Amen.”
“Amen.” Imelda said, letting go of my hand and giving me one of the saddest looks I had
ever seen, “That was . . . quite a prayer.”
“Yeah, dad, only you could deliver a prayer like that. Too bad your congregation wasn’t
here to revel in it.”
Silence washed over the room, the only noises were the sounds of silverware scraping
plates; even Griff was being relatively quiet, only making the occasional grunt or slurping noise
while trying to maneuver noodles into his mouth.
I looked at Imelda, hoping she’d break the silence and bring a little light back into the
room. But she was distracted by Caleb; his shoulders were slumped over his plate. And even
though his eyes were solely focused on his food, he barely even moved his fork. I didn’t dare
look at Bill. I focused on my food and slowly began eating.
I didn’t know if it was my place or if it was even a good idea, but I was the first to speak,
“This-um-this is phenomenal Imelda. I don’t think I’ve ever had a tomato sauce this good
before.”
“Oh, sweet boy, thank you! You know I make the sauce from scratch; I’ve been working
on the recipe for years.”
“Really? I can taste the love you put into, but how on Earth do you find the time. It must
take hours to develop this kind of flavor.”
“Oh it does. But I have trick.” She leaned in like she was telling a secret, “I make a giant
batch once a month, and freeze the rest. It’s one day of work, and then several nights of easy
dinners.”
“I’m going to have to remember that trick.” I laughed as I took another large forkful.
Imelda did the same, and for a split second, I thought the silence was going to descend
upon us again. But I guess she wasn’t having it, “So, do you cook?”
I chuckled a little, “It feels like that’s all I do. My stepdad and mom have to work late
most nights, so dinners usually fall on me. Watching three little ones and cooking dinner is no
easy feat most nights,” I took a swig of water and noticed both Caleb and Bill were fixated on
me, “So, I’m always on the lookout for kitchen hacks.”
“Oh, well I have a ton of those to share! Something you might find interesting-”
“So you’re parents are divorced? Guess that tracks.” Bill said before turning his attention
back to his meal.
“Bill . . .” Imelda cleared her throat and focused back on me, “Please forgive him, please
forgive us, this is all so new and such an adjustment.”
All my instincts were screaming at me to tell that self-righteous prick off and get out of
the house immediately, but I thought back to what I had told Caleb, “It’s just one night.”
“I understand Imelda.” I turned back to my plate and tried my hardest to stay silent, but
there was that nagging anger boiling in my stomach and before I could clamp the lid down, I
boiled over, “Actually Mr. Smythe, my parents didn’t divorce. My dad died when I was very
young; cancer, or so I’m told. I have no memories of him, ya see? Just a picture. So even though
I call him stepdad, doesn’t mean I think of him that way.”
Nothing; he didn’t even look at me. Bastard.
“Of course, my dear boy.” Imelda placed her hand back on mine, and in the other hand, I
felt Caleb’s sweaty palm give it a squeeze.
I looked over at him, and his face showed nothing but concern and pity, “I’m so sorry
Johnathon.”
I usually didn’t bring that up around anyone; I didn’t like to be pitied, “It’s ok. It
happened such a long time ago.” I slipped out of their grips and proceeded to eat my meal, “And
I’m sorry for bringing down the mood. I don’t usually lead with dead dad.”
Silence washed back over the room, thankfully, and the rest of the meal consisted of
pretty much the same. There was the occasional pleasantry made, especially as I made my
escape, but it would definitely go down as one of the strangest and most uncomfortable nights of
my life.
I saw Caleb only one more time in my life. It was at a theme park. He had two small
children in a stroller and was walking arm in arm with pretty, blonde woman; they had on
matching wedding bands.
He didn’t acknowledge me.
And I didn’t acknowledge him.
perspective, “Hey, look at the bright side, you were spared the awkwardness of the coming out
speech.”
“Ugh! This is a whole different kind of awkwardness though.”
I had no idea what else to say, so I just wrapped my arms around him and squeezed as
tightly as I could. This was not a situation I was equipped to deal with; my own coming out
being a rather boring affair. It was just more of a matter of fact.
I was sixteen, I came home from school one day and said, “Hey guys, I like boys not
girls.” And they said, “Okay.” That’s just the way it was in our household.
My heart always goes out to people who didn’t grow up in that kind of environment,
people who could be disowned or harmed or shamed by coming out, but I didn’t know exactly
what that was like. Nor did I know how to deal with your parents finding out you were gay by
walking in on you straddling a stranger.
“I suppose we should go face the music, huh?” Those were the best words I could think
of at the time; honestly, I really didn’t care who or what I had to face. I just wanted to get out of
that house.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Caleb slowly climbed off me and we began the process of gathering up our clothes,
which turned out to be quite the challenge. We were in a mad dash when taking them off, not
paying any attention to where things landed.
It took a minute, but we finished putting ourselves together and opened the door. As we
walked down the steps to what would undoubtably be an embarrassing encounter for all, I
grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. We may have only met twenty minutes ago, but I could
still offer him a little support.
At the bottom of the stairs, and off to the right, was a small den; there was a fireplace,
large, overstuffed chairs, and a middle-aged couple staring daggers at us. His father, a tall and
robust man with a long straggly beard, was leaning against the mantle, and his mother was in an
armchair bouncing a toddler on her knee. She had really pretty auburn hair and a thin frame.
The tension was palpable; even my heart had begun racing from nervousness and I didn’t
even know these people, “Nice to meet you folks; I’m Johnathon.” I gave them a little wave and
an awkward smile, and all I got back were long silent stares of death, “I-uh-I suppose I should be
going.”
“I think that’s a very good idea young man.” Caleb’s father said through gritted teeth.
Yeah, this was definitely not a situation I wanted to be in any longer.
I tried to let go of Caleb’s hand, but he was fighting me, his sweaty palm squeezing mine
with all its worth, “Oh, do-do you really need to be going?” He stared at me; all color seemingly
drained from his face.
“I think I do, but you . . . you have my number, right?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Ok, well, then, tex-text me,” It took a bit of force, but I finally managed to release
myself from his death grip, “Whenever you finish up here of course.”
Yeah, right. The second I managed to get out of this situation I was going to block his
number. I didn’t agree with ghosting as a principle, but this situation was just a bit too much for
me
“No, no, you don’t have to go, does he Bill?” Caleb’s mom said, turning toward her
husband.
“Dear, I think it would be best if he wasn’t here for this conversation.”
“Oh nonsense. I’m fine with all this. It’s fine. Sweetie, Caleb, it’s all fine. Johnathon,
really, it’s fine. Please, stay. Everything is perfectly fine.” Well, I was certainly convinced to;
since, you know, everything was fine.
Ugh! This was supposed to be just a one-time hookup. This was supposed to be a fun
afternoon, no commitments. It’s even plainly stated on my Grindr profile, “NSA, no strings
attached,” and the longer I stood there, the more I started to feel like the star in a marionette
show.
“Dear . . . I don’t think . . .”
“It’s fine!” She cleared her throat and plastered on a smile, “Caleb finally started dating
someone, and he seems like a real-um-gentleman, doesn’t he Bill?”
“I mean . . . I suppose . . . not really. I don’t know.”
“It’s definitely not the ideal way to find out, but-um-we’re pleased nonetheless.” His
mother stood up, tucking the baby onto her hip, and made her way over to me, hand outstretched,
“I’m Mrs. Smythe, Caleb’s mom, but I-I guess you figured that out.” She had a very firm grip.
I was a little dumbfounded. I looked to Caleb for some guidance, but he didn’t, or
couldn’t, say anything. He was just watching the whole situation unfold, eyes wide, mouth
agape; this clearly wasn’t going the way he had anticipated.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Smythe.”
She eventually let go of my hand and started making her way back to the armchair she
was just in, “Oh, my dear boy, feel free to call me Imelda. After all, you two must be very
serious to be engaging in . . . um . . . those kind of. . .” She cleared her throat again, “. . . adult
activities.” She said that last part with a giggle while turning a deep shade of burgundy. Sex was
clearly not an open topic in this household, “So-uh-just how long have you two been dating?”
We shared a quick glance.
“Oh, oh, w-well, you see-um-the. . . well, mom, the thing is . . .” It seemed Caleb was the
honest, albeit bumbling, type. It was actually kind of sweet.
I couldn’t help but feel bad for this poor guy. Undoubtably, no matter how this went
down, his life was forever changed, but an idea popped into my head. One that could potentially
soften the blow of it all. I swallowed hard; I knew it was a stupid idea. I knew it could lead to
further disaster and confusion, but it could also be very helpful for him. We’re supposed to help
our brothers and sisters of the community when they first come out right? Although this might be
taking things a bit too far.
Oh! Fuck it, right?
Time to bring on the strings and crank up the music; the marionette show was about to
begin.
While grabbing his hand and giving it a tight squeeze, I said, “He’s so silly. He can’t
remember our first date to save his life. Men, am I right Imelda?” Caleb’s eyes widened, but I
had already started down this road, “We’ve been together almost three months now, don’t you
remember sugar?”
Caleb cocked his head and stared directly into my eyes; he stood like that for an
uncomfortably long time. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he wasn’t careful his parents
were going to start seeing through my bullshit.
His features eventually softened, and he slowly opened his mouth, “R-right . . . three
months, darling . . . three months, officially dating. But we-we talked and hung out as friends for
a while before that; we took things real slow.”
“Exactly. Slow. Because we wanted to build a caring relationship before doing anything
too, um, extreme.”
“Right. That’s-that’s exactly right.”
Caleb and I seemed to have formed an unspoken understanding in that moment, and
hopefully his parents were buying this. We finally broke our gaze and turned back to them, and
boy were they tough to read.
“Well, isn’t that just . . . just lovely. Isn’t Bill?”
“I don’t know. Three months of dating and they started doing . . . that.” He motioned
toward his son’s bedroom as a disgusted look washed over his face; I did my best not to take
offense. I could only assume he was grossed out from finding his son having sex and not from
find out who it was with.
“Oh honey. It’s not like it was in our day; people move a lot faster now.” The baby had
started getting fussy, and Imelda was doing her best to stay present in the conversation and calm
the little one down, “We may have waited until marriage, but we were the exception not the
rule.”
Bill walked over to his wife and leaned very closely to her face, a little too close for my
own comfort, grabbing her arm in the process, “Yes, but how is it going to look that-that he . . .
that my son is-is . . .”
Her eyes narrowed, “It will look like you are a loving and caring father who supports his
children and doesn’t just think about himself. People will probably be surprised.” She pulled
away from him as best she could and attempted to stand, but he wouldn’t let her go, “If you will
excuse me, I have a dinner to make.”
Bill held her for another moment of two then loosened his grip. I was liking this man less
and less, “But, Imelda, we can’t just leave it here; Caleb needs to . . .”
“The only thing Caleb needs is dinner! And so do I. Now, as far as I’m concerned, this
matter is closed. Caleb, sweetie, I-we . . we love you and always will, no matter what. Isn’t that
right?” Silence, “Isn’t that right, Bill?”
“Yeah, yeah, yes of course, but . . .”
“Johnathon, I’d love to get to know you more; please say you’ll stay for dinner.” Imelda
had moved toward me and was gently touching my hand.
Fuck, I was already in too deep; how could I say no after everything I just saw, “It would
be my pleasure. So long as it’s okay with . . . everyone.” I switched my gaze between Caleb and
Bill; hoping one of them would find an excuse for me to leave. But I was just met with silence.
“Well, I guess it’s settled then.”
Bill stormed passed the three of us, bumping into me on his way out of the den, “I’ll be in
my office.”
I did my best not to make a big deal out of almost being pummeled by that man; this was
going to be a long evening, I could tell. It was for the best if I tried not to make too many more
waves.
“Johnathon, sweetie, I’m assuming you’re okay with vegetarian food, right?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for considering me. Do-do you want any help with dinner,
Imelda?”
“Oh, my sweet boy. No, no it’s perfectly fine. I can handle it.” The child she had been
toting was becoming more and more rowdy; she switched the baby to her other hip and started
bouncing him.
“Mom, at least let us watch Griff.” Caleb reached for the toddler, and he reached right
back.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to . . . I don’t know . . . ruin the mood or anything?” Griff
was almost falling over trying to grab ahold of Caleb.
“Little late for that, Mom.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it clearly wasn’t.
“It’s really no trouble, Imelda. I’m used to it; I’ve got three of them back home myself.”
Her eyes widened, “You what?”
“Oh! Oh, God no! Not like that.” What had I just said, “Sorry, they’re not mine; they are
my brothers and sister. A three-year-old and a set of two-year-old twins; I’m very used to being
around the kiddo is all I meant. Honestly, I don’t mind hanging out with this little guy for a bit.”
She let out a sigh of relief then passed the baby over to Caleb, “That’s incredibly sweet of
you two, and if you really don’t mind, it would be a great help. Thank you.”
We watched her walk down a small hallway and push through a swinging door positioned
at the end. Once she was out of sight, I exhaled, for what felt like the first time since I walked
down stairs, but I couldn’t relax for long. I could feel Caleb staring at me; his eyes were
practically burning a hole in my jacket.
“Look, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I did it. It just-it just felt like the right thing to do at
the time.”
“Ups! Ups!” Griff said, his head titled back and his fingers pointing at the ceiling; he was
practically wriggling in his brother’s arms.
Caleb rolled his eyes, then grabbed my hand, “Come on.” He pulled me upstairs and into
a room with powder blue walls, miniature furniture, and a random assortment of toys strewn
about. He put his brother down, and Griff waddled off, in that cute little bow-legged walk
toddlers do right after taking their first steps. He either found the toy he wanted or ran out of
steam because in one swift movement he plopped onto the ground, butt first.
Caleb locked a nearby baby gate into the door frame and motioned for me to sit on the
floor, “I understand why you did it, and believe me, I’m thankful. I have no interest in explaining
to my parents how I meet guys on a phone app.”
“So I wasn’t your first? After three months together, you’re just telling me this now?” I
was trying to lighten the mood, but based on the look he was giving me, I’d say I failed, “To-too
soon? Yeah, yeah I get it.”
He let out a groan of exasperation, “This-this is ridiculous. What exactly is-is the plan
here? I didn’t even know your name five minutes ago; how are we going to convince anyone
we’ve been dating?”
“We just have to get through tonight, get through this one meal. Then, you just don’t
bring me up again and then in like, like a month or so, you tell them we broke up. It doesn’t have
to be a big deal.” Please, please, to all the gods in all the countries in all the pantheons, please
don’t let it become a big deal.
Griff had stood up at this point and was walking toward us, a toy phone in hand, “For
ew.” He said, handing it to me.
“Oh! It’s for me. Who is it?”
“Uh um-um-it’s-it’s-it’s um. . . it’s um . . . I dun know!” Griff started to push the phone
toward my face, “Tak!”
“You don’t know? Uh-oh. I hope it’s not a bill collector, or worse . . . a charity call!” I
put the phone up to my ear; it was sticky. Boy, was this a familiar scenario; I couldn’t count how
many times I’ve played this particular game with my siblings.
“You don’t have to.” Caleb reached for the toy, but I squatted him away.
“It’s fine, honest.”
“Tak! Tak!”
“Oh! Right! Sorry. Can’t keep him on hold any longer huh?”
“No more hol’.”
“Hello, this is Johnathon speaking. Who is this?”
“Who is it Griff?” Caleb said in that high pitched overly excited tone we all use when
talking to a kid.
“I dun know.” He raised his shoulders and then turned to me, “Who it is?”
I searched the room, looking for a character or a toy that might be his favorite, and then I
spotted a collection of stuffed animals I recognized, “It’s the Wonder Pets!”
“Wonder Pets!” An expression of utter delight struck across his face, “Oooohhhh!!”
“No way . . . No . . . No . . . Oh, you’re never going to believe this Griff.” I said in my
most serious voice possible.
“Wa’? Wa’?”
“Hold on, they’re not done yet . . . And then what happened . . . he did what?”
“Wa’ he do?” Griff had started reaching for the phone again; I passed it back to him,
“Hellow! Hellow! Wonder Pets? Wonder Pets?”
“Oh no, did they hang up Griff?” Caleb said.
“Day hang up!”
“Well, they needed to go rescue a baby penguin!”
“Pain-geen?”
“Yeah, a baby penguin, he got stuck on the ice.”
“OH NO!”
Caleb started letting out a laugh but quickly fought it back; understandably, Griff was
super cute and super-duper excited.
“Oh no is right!”
“Help! Help pain-geen! Help pain-geen!”
“Okay! Let’s go help the penguin!”
The three of us then spent the next half hour helping various toys get out of problematic
situations. The penguin was relatively easy to save, but when his toy cat told us a fire truck got
stuck up a tree, we spent forever trying to rescue it.
Imelda’s voice echoed through house, “Dinner’s ready! Everybody come down!”
Getting Griff out of his bedroom and locked into his highchair was, of course, a struggle,
but it was a battle eventually won. I waited a moment before sitting down; I had to think about
what the most strategic arrangement was. Obviously, Caleb had to be on one side, but what about
the other side. Was it better to sit next to Bill and face Imelda or sit next to Imelda and face Bill?
I swallowed hard and made my decision; it was better to sit next to the Imelda, right?
Once we were all situated around the small dining table with a very delicious smelling
bowl of pasta and a tray of garlic bread in the middle, Imelda spoke up, “Well, isn’t this lovely;
all of us together?” She cleared her throat and pulled her chair closer to the table, “Now,
everyone grab hands. Let’s say Grace.”
Imelda reached over and clasped my hand; she gave it a light squeeze while smiling at
me. My other hand was damp from Caleb’s sweaty palm. I let out a sigh of relief that I wasn’t
gripping Bill’s hand in that moment.
“Dear heavenly Father, our redeemer, our forgiver . . . our guardian traditional family
values. We thank you for this bounty you have so mercifully bestowed on us today. And thank
you for my kind and beautiful wife, may she continue to follow your path as a loving and
obedient woman of Christ. And thank you for my son; Griffin is truly a blessing made in your
image. May we continue to receive your blessings and your tests of faith. Amen.”
“Amen.” Imelda said, letting go of my hand and giving me one of the saddest looks I had
ever seen, “That was . . . quite a prayer.”
“Yeah, dad, only you could deliver a prayer like that. Too bad your congregation wasn’t
here to revel in it.”
Silence washed over the room, the only noises were the sounds of silverware scraping
plates; even Griff was being relatively quiet, only making the occasional grunt or slurping noise
while trying to maneuver noodles into his mouth.
I looked at Imelda, hoping she’d break the silence and bring a little light back into the
room. But she was distracted by Caleb; his shoulders were slumped over his plate. And even
though his eyes were solely focused on his food, he barely even moved his fork. I didn’t dare
look at Bill. I focused on my food and slowly began eating.
I didn’t know if it was my place or if it was even a good idea, but I was the first to speak,
“This-um-this is phenomenal Imelda. I don’t think I’ve ever had a tomato sauce this good
before.”
“Oh, sweet boy, thank you! You know I make the sauce from scratch; I’ve been working
on the recipe for years.”
“Really? I can taste the love you put into, but how on Earth do you find the time. It must
take hours to develop this kind of flavor.”
“Oh it does. But I have trick.” She leaned in like she was telling a secret, “I make a giant
batch once a month, and freeze the rest. It’s one day of work, and then several nights of easy
dinners.”
“I’m going to have to remember that trick.” I laughed as I took another large forkful.
Imelda did the same, and for a split second, I thought the silence was going to descend
upon us again. But I guess she wasn’t having it, “So, do you cook?”
I chuckled a little, “It feels like that’s all I do. My stepdad and mom have to work late
most nights, so dinners usually fall on me. Watching three little ones and cooking dinner is no
easy feat most nights,” I took a swig of water and noticed both Caleb and Bill were fixated on
me, “So, I’m always on the lookout for kitchen hacks.”
“Oh, well I have a ton of those to share! Something you might find interesting-”
“So you’re parents are divorced? Guess that tracks.” Bill said before turning his attention
back to his meal.
“Bill . . .” Imelda cleared her throat and focused back on me, “Please forgive him, please
forgive us, this is all so new and such an adjustment.”
All my instincts were screaming at me to tell that self-righteous prick off and get out of
the house immediately, but I thought back to what I had told Caleb, “It’s just one night.”
“I understand Imelda.” I turned back to my plate and tried my hardest to stay silent, but
there was that nagging anger boiling in my stomach and before I could clamp the lid down, I
boiled over, “Actually Mr. Smythe, my parents didn’t divorce. My dad died when I was very
young; cancer, or so I’m told. I have no memories of him, ya see? Just a picture. So even though
I call him stepdad, doesn’t mean I think of him that way.”
Nothing; he didn’t even look at me. Bastard.
“Of course, my dear boy.” Imelda placed her hand back on mine, and in the other hand, I
felt Caleb’s sweaty palm give it a squeeze.
I looked over at him, and his face showed nothing but concern and pity, “I’m so sorry
Johnathon.”
I usually didn’t bring that up around anyone; I didn’t like to be pitied, “It’s ok. It
happened such a long time ago.” I slipped out of their grips and proceeded to eat my meal, “And
I’m sorry for bringing down the mood. I don’t usually lead with dead dad.”
Silence washed back over the room, thankfully, and the rest of the meal consisted of
pretty much the same. There was the occasional pleasantry made, especially as I made my
escape, but it would definitely go down as one of the strangest and most uncomfortable nights of
my life.
I saw Caleb only one more time in my life. It was at a theme park. He had two small
children in a stroller and was walking arm in arm with pretty, blonde woman; they had on
matching wedding bands.
He didn’t acknowledge me.
And I didn’t acknowledge him.
