Blushing Maid, page 14
She wriggled up the bed beside me, and draped her arm over my bare belly. She was still mostly dressed, but I intended to do something about that just as soon as I had gotten my breath back.
"So, maybe it’s not going to be so bad after all, huh?” She suggested. I grinned.
"Maybe not," I agreed, and I wrapped my arms around her and closed my eyes – and did my best to believe what she had just told me.
Chapter 21
Damn straight
"I can’t believe we’re actually doing this," Alana giggled, as we held hands and made our way down the small high street of Lexingville.
"Me neither," I agreed, and I noticed that her hand was a little clammy. She was clearly nervous about this, and I didn’t blame her – there was a lot for her to get used to, all this change coming together so quickly. It would have been a little strange if she hadn’t had a hard time wrapping her head around it.
It was our second day here, and we had slipped out of the house early to avoid my parents and so I could show her around the town a little. Not that there was a lot to show, but I wanted to indulge the novelty of being able to actually walk around with her hand in mine and not have to worry about anything else at all.
The streets were quiet, but I could still tell that Alana was a little nervous at what we were doing. I squeezed her hand tight, trying to soothe her.
"I love you," I murmured to her. "And you know how much this means to me, right? Being out with you like this?"
She took a deep breath, and nodded.
"Yeah, I do," she agreed. "And thank you for bringing me here. You’re right. It’s nice to be able to...I don’t know, not have to worry as much."
"Yeah, I don’t think we’re likely to run into any of Rick’s family down here," I joked.
"Though your family seems like they still have some questions..."
"No, they don’t," I replied firmly. I was dead certain that I wasn’t going to let anything like that get in the way of the time we were spending together. My parents would just have to get used to it, and if they couldn’t, well, tough luck.
"How do you feel?" She asked, and I grinned at her, widely.
"You know I feel amazing," I replied. "I love being out with you. I just want everyone to know that we’re together."
"So, you’re down here to show me off?" She teased.
"Damn straight," I replied. "Well, not straight straight. But you get the point."
We went for coffee and a bagel at the place that had gotten me through my finals when I had been in high school, and then she asked for a tour of all the spots that had filled out my time when I had lived here. I was more than happy to show her everything that I could, and it was fun to be the one who knew better than her for a change; normally, she was our guide, but not today. I was the one in charge and I was going to make sure that she knew it.
It was a little strange, being back here with her. For a long time, in this town, I had tried to ignore the desires that had controlled me and consumed me when I was a teenager, the ones I had tried to pretend didn’t exist. But now I was here, with her, I had embraced it and accepted it and it felt so right. I never wanted to go back again. Being out was the only way to live for me. Even if it was just to myself.
By the time we were finished up, it was late afternoon, and I figured we didn’t have much choice but to go down to the house once more.
"It’s going to be alright," I told her, but I was more trying to convince myself.
"I know it is," she promised me. "It’s going to go well. They were just a little confused, they’re going to get it when we come in."
"Right," I agreed, and I hovered outside the door for a moment before I headed inside. Before I could open it, it sprang open in front of me, and I found myself faced with my mom.
"Oh!” I exclaimed, and I let go of Alana’s hand at once, like I had been caught in the act of something.
"Oh, I wasn’t sure when the two of you were getting back," Mom remarked, glancing between us. "I was just going to call you. Would you like to join us for dinner?"
"Sure," Alana agreed at once, before I had a chance to cut in and disagree. I knew it was for the best, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t nervous as hell.
"Wonderful," Mom replied briskly, and she stepped aside and gestured for us to come in. "So, what were you doing today?”
I relaxed a little – maybe I had nothing to worry about. I needed to calm down. I had been reading too much into things the day before, and the fact that they had given us separate rooms, maybe it was just because they didn’t want to make any assumptions about the two of us.
Alana went for a shower and I helped Mom chop vegetables and set the oven, which she still somehow had trouble with even after all these years of living here. Dad was sitting in the living room sipping on a beer and watching some sports program, and I thanked God once again that I was gay and would never have to get saddled with a man who acted that way.
By the time that dinner was ready, I was starting to feel a little more comfortable. Yeah, okay, I could manage this. I was ready.
Alana came to the table, her hair still a little wet, and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. I noticed Mom stiffen beside me – she was probably just a little surprised seeing me with someone after so long of me being single. We all crowded around the small table just aside from the kitchen, and Alana squeezed my hand under the table, obviously sensing that I was feeling seriously nervous.
"So, Martin, what do you do?" Alana asked, turning her attention to my dad. I suddenly wasn’t feeling so hungry, and picked at the meatloaf and roasted vegetables on the plate in front of me.
"For work?" He replied. I knew he knew what she meant. I wanted to kick him beneath the table. Weren’t dads meant to be odd about it when their daughters brought men home, not women?
"Yes, for work," she replied sweetly, tucking in to her food. "This is delicious, by the way, Leanne. Thank you."
"Right," Mom replied. She suddenly seemed stiff with awkwardness. I didn’t know what to do to break the tension between us, so I decided just ploughing forward was the best idea.
"He works at an auto-parts factory here, right, Dad?" I replied for him, given that he didn’t seem to be coming out with anything too quickly.
"Right," He replied coldly. And that was just the rest of the night summed up in a single interaction. Alana would say something, my parents would barely accept that she had said anything, and then I would have to come in to paper over the cracks so my family didn’t look totally rude.
I couldn’t believe they were being so damn cold towards her. What had she done to deserve this? I had seen my parents be polite to people who were actively talking shit behind their backs and didn’t care to hide it, but for some reason, it seemed like they couldn’t even handle Alana making small talk.
By the time that we had finished dinner, I was ready to pop. I suggested to Alana that the two of us go out for a drink at a bar not too far from the house, and she headed off to get ready for it. And as soon as I was alone with my parents again, I rounded on them.
"I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?" I asked them, and both of them glanced at each other and then away from me.
"No..." Dad replied finally. Mom didn’t say anything.
"And what about Alana? Did she?"
"No."
"Then why are you acting like you’ve never met either of us before in your life?" I demanded, exasperated. Mom sighed, and put a couple of the plates that she had picked up in the sink with a clatter. I knew it was her way of trying to put a period at the end of this conversation, but I wasn’t going to have it. I was an adult, and they didn’t just get to brush me off the way they used to.
"Look, you know we support you no matter what you do," Mom told me, briskly, voice high and tense.
"Then why are you acting so strange with her?" I asked her again, exasperated. I just couldn’t figure it out. All I wanted was an answer, and they seemed incapable of giving it to me.
"Because we both thought you would be over this phase by now," Dad cut in, and his words sat there, hanging in the air between the three of us. My jaw dropped. I must have heard him wrong, there was no way that he could really mean that...
"This phase?" I repeated after him, feeling my stomach sink down. All the food that I had managed to get down over the course of dinner was suddenly on the brink of coming up again. What the fuck? I couldn’t...there had to be some mistake...I must have heard them wrong, or something, because there was no way...
"Yes, well, we knew that you had this attraction when you were in high school," Mom replied, picking up more plates and tossing them into the sink as though she was trying to drown out the very words that were coming out of her own mouth. She knew this was wrong, knew she was cruel for doing this to me, and yet, nothing was stopping her.
"But we had assumed that you had gotten over it by now," Dad remarked. "These things happen-"
"It’s not a mistake," I cut him off, bluntly. "I want this, Dad. I want Alana. We’ve been together a long time now, and I’m in love with-"
"Of course that’s what you think," Dad replied, his voice edged with a condescension that made me so angry I could barely see straight.
"That’s what I know," I told him, my voice low and furious, but I knew that it wasn’t going to be enough for them. They were still my parents, after all, and they still clearly thought that they knew better than me in all that they did. I hated them for this. I wanted to scream, to grab her by the shoulders and ask her if this was really how she felt – if she could really be so stupid as to believe that there was even a speck of truth to what she was saying.
But the way they were both looking at me, I didn’t need to ask that question. I could tell that they had already made up their minds. They didn’t believe that Alana and I could really love each other the way that I said we did. And, honestly, I couldn’t think of much worse than standing there in that kitchen for a moment longer trying to convince them of that.
"Thanks for dinner," I snapped, as I turned on my heel and headed for the door. "Though I’m sure you would have preferred it if we’d choked on it."
And with that, I walked out, and tried not to let them see the beginnings of the tears that were starting to drip down my face.
Chapter 22
One foot out
The next day, and I had gone out of my way to avoid my parents at all costs. They were the last people I wanted to see right about now, and I hoped that they would respect my desire not to lay eyes on them until I’d had a chance to figure out how I felt about what they had told me.
No, actually, I knew just how I felt about it – I was pissed. Furious. I couldn’t believe that my father thought he even remotely had the right to tell me how I felt about the woman I loved. He hadn’t acted like he had loved my mother in years, what right did he have to make any sort of grand statements on the matter?
I had taken Alana out the night before and gotten a little drunker than I had intended to – Alana had asked what we had spoken about, clearly sensing that I was heated up over the conversation, but I had decided that it was best if she didn’t know. She already had enough doubts about us being out and proud and together, and if she got a hint that my parents were anything but all for it, then she would back out of this the first chance she got. I felt like I was trying to protect so many people’s feelings all at once, and in the mix, my own seemed to be getting forgotten.
Still. We were here, and I was grateful to Alana for giving me the chance to take her out and actually do normal couple things for a change. I knew it was a big step up for her, and she still had those moments of discomfort, but she tried hard and that was all I cared about.
But now, I was waking up the morning after, in my own little room in my own bed on the floor, not next to the woman I loved, having to deal with the fact that my parents didn’t like the person I was dating. I mean, I knew that was a total cliché, but that didn’t make it any less true, did it?
I crawled out of bed and headed through to the kitchen to get myself a glass of the sugary orange juice my mom always kept in the fridge; there was nothing to chase away a little too much alcohol like a little too much sugar. Just as I was pouring myself a glass, I heard someone coming in behind me. I turned, hoping for Alana, and found myself faced with my mother.
"Oh", I remarked, coolly. "Hello."
"Good morning," she replied, and she at least had the decency not to sound cheerful, probably knowing how I was feeling after the night before.
"Where’s Dad?" I asked.
"Already at work."
"Good."
I took a long sip of my juice, and eyed her over the top of the glass.
"Honey, we need to talk," she told me gently, and I put the glass down, not changing the expression on my face.
"Oh, do we?"
"Yes, I really think we do," she replied. "It’s...it’s about everything your father said last night. I know that he sounded rather...rather, well, behind-the-times..."
"Yeah, you can say that again," I snorted with irritation. His words had been running around my head all night, and by now, they felt almost ready to burst through my head and out into the real world.
"But he doesn’t speak for both of us," she assured me. I looked over at her. I had noticed that she had been a little quiet during that conversation the night before, apart from when it came to acknowledging the feelings I’d had in high school. Was there some chance, even a small one, that she was actually on my side here?
"What do you mean?” I asked, nervous. I didn’t want to jump too far into believing that she might be on my side here, not now, not yet – I had been stung before by my parents too recently for that.
"I mean, I understand how hurtful it must be to hear him say those things," she replied. "But you have to give him time to come around to this. It’s a shock for him, you see – you know how men can be, they don’t always see what’s right in front of them..."
"You’re making excuses for him, Mom," I pointed out. "He doesn’t need that. He knows what he’s doing."
"He’s your father," she replied, a little more sharply now. "And I know that it might seem hard to believe but he’s not always the one who’s on top of everything. He gets upset too, he gets worried – he's worried that your life is going to be that much harder because of what you’ve chosen to do."
"And what about you?" I asked her, ignoring the implication that this was something that I had gone out of my way to select for myself, as opposed to the helpless love that I had fallen in that it truly was.
She glanced out the window for a moment, thinking; well, at least I knew I was going to get an honest answer from her, not just the one that she thought I wanted to hear. I stood there, leaned on the counter, waiting for her response.
"I’m honestly not sure how I feel yet," she confessed. "But I like Alana. She seems nice. And you seem...well, you seem very happy when you’re around her, and I don’t think I can ask for much more for my daughter than that, really."
I stood there for a moment, staring at her. It was what I had dreamed of hearing her say to me before, but it had come far too late for it to feel real. She could have said all this when my father was telling me off before, but now, but now, the damage had been done. I knew how she felt, but it was marred by how he did.
"But you just have to give him some time, and he’ll come around to it," she told me, gently, and I could tell that she really thought she was helping. I clenched my hand by my side. I was done with waiting, done with giving people more time to come around when this was my life and my love that I was talking about.
"I’m not ready to do that," I told her, simply. She blinked at me, clearly surprised by what I was telling her.
"What?"
"I’m not ready to wait," I replied. "I’ve done enough waiting. If he can’t wrap his head around it, well, that seems like it’s his problem. I love her and I’m not going to spend another minute hiding it from anyone, you hear me?"
"Billie, please," Mom pleaded with me. "I know how hard this must be for you, but-"
"No, I don’t think you do," I told her, and I felt all the anger that I had done my best to keep in, come spilling up and out of me, impossible to control.
"Because if you did you wouldn’t be asking me to wait any longer," I told her bluntly. "You would understand how horrible this is for me, and you would support me no matter what Dad thought about any of this..."
And it was at that moment that I noticed something in her face change. For a second, I thought she was going to tell me off for speaking about my father that way. But then I noticed that her eyes were locked on something behind me, and I turned around – and saw Alana standing there. And judging by the look on her face, she had heard our whole conversation.
"Alana," I spoke her name, hoping that it would be enough to keep her from going. But she had already heard more than she needed to. She shook her head and lowered her eyes and looked away from me.
"I need a minute," she mumbled, and with that, she turned and walked out of the kitchen. Leaving me alone in the room with the woman who only half-accepted me, and the memory of the man who didn’t seem to at all.
Chapter 23
Comfort of your touch
"Alana, please, can we just talk?”
I sat on the edge of my old childhood bed, my hand on hers, as I tried to get her to just look me in the eye so that we could have an actual conversation again. I felt like she was utterly shut off from me and I couldn’t reach into her head and find out why. I knew that it had been overhearing the conversation with my mother than had triggered this in her, but I needed to know why exactly it seemed to hurt her so much.
