The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Over the past week I've seriously had to ask myself what it would be like if Jonah were gone. Just as I feared it's been business as usual with him, he's been locked away in his room pouring every bit of energy he has into finishing his submission for that stupid competition. I wonder if he's thought about it more, if he realizes how much I've grown to resent such an innocent thing that had started out as a way to bring him back to life after his mom died. How could he not see it though? Doesn't he think it's weird that I haven't asked to see what he's working on, or showed any interest at all? Maybe that's my fault, when I've only continued to tell him that I support what he's doing.
I still don't want to hurt him, so it's easier to lie. Devin thinks I need to talk to him about it—about everything, including Maddy. I appreciate the concerns of my best friend, but especially here at work right when we're about to close up, I still can't find the value in the truth. My dad walks passed my desk, the first one out, and the glance he shoots over at me isn't all that hateful. That's progress, but I know the second I come clean about my engagement to Jonah all those tiny, little baby steps we've taken over the last few months will be wiped out completely.
I tell myself it's worth it, it all is, even if I haven't been able to decide what I'd do without Jonah. I mean I've always had him, and before that I had Maddy. Then before her it was Bill. The dots connect to form a pattern which suggests I've never been good at being alone. That must be the coward in me, but that's not going to cut it this time, regardless of how badly I don't want to rock the boat here at the garage with my dad I understand the importance of what I have to do. Granted, while it's been harder to be as excited about the wedding lately this is still what I want, and I've been looking every day for the perfect opportunity to come out to my uncle.
"Hey, kid. I'm about to head out, you need me to drop you off? There's something I'd like to talk to you about on the way." As if manifested from my anxiety, Bill ambles out of his office. Each day he looks a little worse than the one before, he's so fragile now, like he might break in half. It's just another reason I have to do this though, because it seems like those opportunities are running dry.
"Actually, Jason's going to be here in a few minutes." Forcing myself to find the nerve, I stand. I've noticed how uncomfortable it is for him to see me and Jonah together, but other than a few stray comments when I was growing up, I'm not really sure what his personal views are. What I do know is that when I came out he didn't have anything to say one way or the other, and sticking by me, giving me this job, I can only hope they aren't totally the same as my dad's. "Until then there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about too."
"You go ahead then." He treads carefully, already wary.
"Okay, so, I hate to just throw it out there like this, but it is what it is. The thing is, I'm getting married," I say quietly, every bit of the pitiful amount of courage I had mustered fizzling out. No matter what though I have to remind myself that he's not my dad, despite everything else, so I cling to the belief that he's different. Or at least he wants to be. It's no easier than it was but I push on anyway, "to Jonah. We haven't finalized a date or anything yet, and you don't have to come if you don't want to, but I'd really like it if you did. For me."
"Aw, Brent." Bill closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, sucking in a breath before he can come up with anything to say. "I don't know about all that."
"That's cool, I get it. I just, thought you should know." I lie. That makes the most sense here too, because it's better then letting him see how his reaction gets to me. Not like I have to tell him either, I'm sure he knows what it feels like to be let down. "Like I said, we're still in the middle of planning everything though, so you've got plenty of time to think about it."
"No, that's what I was trying to tell you," his eyes open, and this game we play where we don't speak what's really on our minds would be comical if it didn't have such real consequences. It dawns on me that some of those consequences are more dire than others as I stare at him, sifting the pieces into place to make sense of what he's implying. The denial I refuse to hide pushes him too, "I can't tell you how much time I've got. These damn doctors won't make up their mind, and now they want to run some more tests."
"Is it bad? You're scaring me."
"No need to go getting worked up, we don't know anything for sure yet. I wasn't even going to mention it except I'll more than likely be out for another day or so here soon." It must be hell for him to be honest like this, it goes against his most basic instincts, but when he sees that his reassurance has done little to quash my worry he proves just what I had suspected all along. "What I can tell you is I'm fighting like hell, Brent, you got my word on that. I'm not just going to give up."
"That makes it sound really serious, Bill. Are you saying you're going to die?" I can't take another lie from him, so tactless or not I ask him point blank. He is different, that's obvious, because no matter what else he feels about me—for me—I know he cares. In his way. That's why I can't be totally convinced when he simply shakes his head to deny the accusation, but for the time being I have to trust him. "Then I want you to get better, and I want you to come to my wedding. Will you think about it?"
"I will." He answers after an extended pause, and whether he means he'll think about it, or that he'll come, I'm unsure. Nor am I afforded an opportunity to ask when he steps away, no doubt overwhelmed by too much sentimentality. My family doesn't do well with that sort of thing, and our conversation is how it should be between men—short and direct. I'm not at all fooled when Bill clears his throat to begin again, "I forgot something in my office, you better get going, kid. Your ride's probably here by now."
It's a lie and we both know it, but this is one I can tolerate as he retreats back to his safe solitude. I want to feel relieved that talking to him about my engagement went much smoother than I expected, but then, I have all these new questions about his health and what's really been going on with him. While it's not a mystery I'm likely to solve tonight, it continues weighing on me even after I wander out to the parking lot to wait for Jason.
"So, my only son's getting married," the voice sounds dangerously close, and when I turn around I spot my dad leaned up again the wall. He blows a long trail of smoke from his nose before eyeing me, "or weren't you going to say nothing?"
"I didn't know you were listening." It's the first stupid thing that I can manage, suddenly caged in what feels like a box with him. This is the confrontation I've been attempting to avoid, but now that it's here, it's weird, he doesn't look as snide as I had thought. No, he appears to feel something else entirely, but I'm not too interested in finding out what that might be. I continue lowly, measured, "or that you cared."
"You must really think I'm a piece of shit, don't you?" It's a trap, even when he asks it outright I know better than to speak my mind. Yet my silence apparently speaks loud enough and he scoffs. "But I took care of you, didn't I? I was a decent father, I always made sure you had a roof over your head and clothes on your back, no matter how rough things got. We didn't have it that easy, me and Billy, you got off lucky, the kind of shit my dad put us through you wouldn't believe. Maybe I took it too easy on you."
"Easy?" For every bruise and scar, I don't know how he could say that to me. "All I'm lucky for is that I made it out alive."
"Why is it always about blame with you? Fine, I might've lost my temper every now and again but you weren't innocent either, how many times did I have to come get you out of trouble? All that, and you ran off and abandoned your family as soon as someone dangled a shiny, new life in your face."
"You threw me out, what was I supposed to do?"
"I was teaching you a lesson, trying to toughen you up so you'd understand what being a man is really about. You never did get it." He justifies his actions, taking one last drag off his cigarette before throwing it down. The way he talks, how he acts, I start to get the impression that he may be offended. "Still don't either. You really think marrying another guy just because you've got daddy issues will make you happy? What is it, should I have gave you more hugs or what? Because I can't figure out for the life of me why you're doing this."
"Because I love him, why is that so hard to get?" How perverse, that I have to defend my actions—my love—to someone like him. But I can't stop, it's pathological, tonight wouldn't be the first night I've tried to find a way to make him see.
"What you don't seem to get is you don't—you can't! And I'm sure this Jonah touches you in all the right places and makes you feel special, but that don't make it love. You think someone like that could actually love you? His daddy's two steps away from running the whole goddamn town, who the hell are you?" My dad twists the knife in deeper, and I might think he was doing it just to be cruel, but then he changes. "Don't do this, mark my words, you're only going to hate yourself. Forget about him—all of them—come work full time at the garage, you've got a real future here."
"That's not what I want though, are you even listening?" This is so, I don't know, I can't even describe it. Things haven't been as bad between us, are those little gifts he's been leaving me supposed to be an apology? This uncharacteristic plea, is this his way of saying I can be family again as long as I don't go through with this? That makes me more mad than anything. "I want to marry Jonah."
"God, how the fuck did they brainwash you?"
"I can think for myself."
"Obviously you can't, how else can you stand there and tell me you like taking dick?"
"You're a pig," I recoil, so aghast at his rhetoric that I hardly notice the headlights that come bouncing into the parking lot. Despite how disgusting he's being, he glares at me like I have no right to stand up to him. He even inches closer, but I don't stop. "I'm done talking about this, what I do with my boyfriend is none of your goddamn business, so keep his name out of your filthy fucking mouth."
"Since when do you talk to me like that?" In a single bound he's right in my face, yanking me forward by the collar. I've been here too many times before, and no matter that it's been years, no matter how much I say he doesn't scare me anymore, I wince in an attempt to get away from him. He pulls his fist back, "you're not too old that I won't still beat the shit out of you. Say something else, I dare you!"
"Hey!" A door slams and then I hear a series of quick footfalls before Jason steps in, separating us. With both arms outstretched he looks between me and my dad, "let's not do this. Brent, get in the car."
"Look at that, your new daddy's here to save you." My dad mocks, his disdain clear when he spits at our feet.
"That's quite enough from you, sir. I think you best go now." Jason sticks a finger out sternly, standing against him with the kind of bravado I had wanted so much to have, though I can only hide behind him now.
"Get your hand out of my face—I'm only going to warn you once."
"Is this how you want to settle things? I thought we were all adults here." These days you might not guess that Jason had a past in the Navy. He's well-mannered and deliberate, but when pushed there are glimpses of something else beneath the surface. Something that's impatient, dark, and every bit as scary as the man who raised me. He waits, bigger somehow until my dad refuses to call the bluff and backs away, cursing under his breath. Then Jason finally turns to look at me fully. "Are you okay?"
"Oh he's fine, you made sure of that, stepping in to fight his battles. No wonder your kid turned out to be a fucking queer." None of this has been enough, and my dad can't leave well enough alone as he mutters to himself. I expect it at this point, but I see something snap in Jason when that darkness reemerges before he twirls around on his heels to grab ahold of my dad and sock him across the face.
"Don't you ever talk about my boy like that again. Either of them! You think you're a real big man but let me tell you something, Mr. Fox, you're nothing but a bully, and I have no problem dealing with bullies." Jason states, waiting to see if my dad will do anything besides stare at him with that same shocked contempt. When he doesn't he turns to me again, touching my back gently. "Let's go."
I follow him to the car silently, unable to say much of anything. Maybe it hadn't began like I thought it would, but this conversation with my dad still went the way I knew it was always going to. He'll make me pay for this too, somehow, in some way, whatever ceasefire born out of his disillusion that I could maybe become something he'd be proud of is over. The peace is gone, and especially when Bill loses more control over him every day I don't know what he'll do. It's hopeless. That must be what Jason feels in this situation too, because he doesn't say anything until we're sitting quietly in the driveway of the frat house.
"I won't say anything if you don't." His attempt at breaking the ice falls flat, so he swallows hard and reconsiders. "Brent, I won't pretend like I know what you're feeling, how could I? What I do know is what it's like to think like him. Sometimes we all need a chance to grow, and who knows, maybe your dad will come around. But maybe he won't, and I don't want you to keep holding onto that just to get hurt again. You don't need him, or his approval. You're everything you're supposed to be."
Thank you. That's what I want to say to him, but I only end up sitting there just as quiet for another minute before I get out so he can go home. To his family, Jonah's family. But my family? My family hates me, and Jason can say all he wants that I don't need my dad's approval, but that will never make it not hurt. Doesn't matter what he believes, I never asked for any of this and he's my dad, he's supposed to fucking love me, like Jason loves Jonah. Why not me? What's so bad about me? All I want is a drink but then I feel the first tear on my cheek. Then I feel another, and I sit down on the porch step to breathe through it so I won't scream, thinking about how much it hurts, and desperately trying to figure out what I'm worth.