Knock Me Down - [COMPLETE]

41 - This Kind of Thing

Felt bad for being late so early update. Y'all are cool to talk to, I appreciate the reads 👏❤️
—

I tried to sneak into my old room through the window at a time of day I thought no one would be home. I was going to grab some things I left behind in a stealthy robbery and escape. But when my dad came out of the garage mid-climb, he awkwardly asked me to help take down the Christmas decorations since conveniently 'no one else' was here to do it.

It's dead silent for the first ten painstakingly long minutes of unclipping lights. I know he's deep in thought, trying to figure out how to open the conversation. How to tell me I need to fix myself. I need to try harder. I need to be normal.

He's not used to complicated discussion or sour confrontation like this. We've never had to before. We also hardly talk. If it weren't for the fact he'd occasionally pop in, I would've barely known he cared about me.

I want to go home. There's anger and a need to cry simultaneously flooding my lungs that I shake my head looking down frustrated. I let out a deep, quiet exhale to myself and say, trying not to come off agitated, "Dad. I've never liked anyone before. Except Jasper. Not a single girl, boy, whatever. Not until now. I can't change that"

He loosens his hold on the roll of light sin his left hand and cuts me off, "Mijo. I know. I'm...I'm tryin' to find the right words. I know...I know I ain't the most outspoken man—father–or that I'm not the most sensitive as I'm 'sposed to, but...shit, Mateo, I never thought I ever woulda had to talk like this"

He sighs, "I dunno if you believe this, but I do love you, boy"

"I get that part of this. What you feel. Is my fault. I ain't ever been home too much. How could you tell us anythin' if I haven't been a proper example of communication?" He tries to keep going by rolling the string of lights in a neater coil, pulling clips with me, to have some sense of normalcy, "I'm sorry you couldn't tell me you're, uh, gay. But I love you. I do. Ya momma might take a minute. Maybe a lot more than that, but she loves you, child. You're a man now. I can't change you even if I wanted that. You're too grown, too smart, for me to lecture you that way"

I hesitate when I hear him say 'gay', "Pa, it's more than that. I'd have more courage, more faith if I could just tell Ma I'm gay but I don't think thats it. I can't guarentee that if one day Jasper and I don't work out, that I can't fall for a girl, or just someone else. Like what if Jasper leaves me and I fall for the kind of girl Ma wants. All she'd say is, era nomas pensamientos de curiosidad. Era temporal. Un experimentó"

He sighs. He feels the weight of the conversation. This is way out of his league in expertise.

"I don't really understand—y'know this kinda thing, Mateo. But, your mom, she'll know. She'll take one look at you with Jasper and she'll know eventually if y'mean it or not. She ain't a bruja. Stubborn as a mothafucker, but one day you two will come together. She'll be willing to open up. And it's Jasper. You know how much she wished Benicio coulda been more like him" He chuckles, "Responsible, reasonable, an over achiever. I mean no offense to my first boy, Benicio is a success of his own but...y'feel me?"

I laugh, a small and not all that genuine one because I do get it, but I can't see Benicio in a humorous light right now.

"Not that it matters what kinda, uh, guy he is, but it helps Jasper's the good of the pick. But if you want I can still give you the classic 'men only want one thing, be safe and all that' talk"

The moment is stored in my brain, the feeling of my dad here. He's not the most educated man on gender and sexuality studies but knowing he was willing to be here with me made me feel so much lighter. One less thing to stress about.

I clear my throat and let out a choked, "Thanks, Pa"

He's not one to hug so he gives my shoulder a loving squeeze. It's more than enough to me.

Theres an awkward pause and he coughs to hide it, "So, uh, you two... haven't had sex? I'm not a expert, but uh, still gotta use condoms...you know, STDs...and lube—"

"No. No, not yet. I know. Did the research" I rush out, climbing higher up the ladder, "Thanks, Dad. Let's get this done already"

I tell him how I'm up for rookie of the year with how well I was doing at competitions. Was. I admit I was out last tournament. We go back to how we were. How we used to talk, only a little better. Some progress.

"Do you want to move back?" He asks as we climb down and close the ladders.

I shake my head, "No. Actually, dad, I'm good where I am. I think you were right. I should've visited abuela more often...I'll take my keys back though. And my phone"

He laughs his very dad laugh, "Nah, that's still punishment. Don't think I don't know about you sneaking out at the devils hours, boy"

I smile as he puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me, "You'll get 'em back though eventually"

And unexpectedly, he does hug me. And I crack open like a capped fountain all over again. It's embarrassing but I'm too relieved that I don't let it get to me. I'm too thankful to give a shit about how masculine my crying is.

He soothingly rubs my back and holds the back of my head how he used to do when I was really young. And I embrace him tightly, trying to convey how much this means to me.

"Julian—!" My mom gets out of the car with Benicio holding many bags of groceries. A product of no longer having me to do all the chores anymore.

My dad sighs again letting me go, exasperated. It went over my head earlier but he looks almost as overworked as I do. There's a bit of guilt in me that I'm the cause of their fights, if they have been fighting. They don't really argue for long. They were quick to resolve things.

"Amor, I'm ain't talkin' about this again. You already know how I feel" He says cut and dry.

My mom gazes between us. She doesn't speak a word to me and storms inside. Probably to cry.

Benicio just stands there looking at me uneasily before going in with her. I know he's waiting for a chance to speak with me.

"Talk to him please. Soon" My dad pats my back, "If it makes you feel better, I whooped his ass. Not with a chancla, but belt. Leather. He got a permanent red mark right across his asscheeks" He chuckles like he's remembering it all over again, "Smacked 'em so hard they split. Shit, he got four of em now"

I bust out laughing with him. My dad doesn't care how old we are. We could be forty and he'd whoop us in public regardless.