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twenty-two:: when you understand conflict resolution

(Julessssss; Fools by Troye Sivan)

This is shorter than me, just saying.

TWENTY-TWO: when you understand conflict resolution.

I'd had that feeling. The bubbling in my stomach sort of resembled how I felt before coming out to my mother only less intense and heart wrenching.

But either way, I knew I was screwed.

It was silent as my dad sat beside me, we hadn't spoken to each other since he's picked me up and although I knew he hadn't intended it, the air was thick.

So think that when he cleared his throat and offered a "Julian." my heart was pounding and I'd jumped in anticipation of what was to come. Maybe he'd be upset, maybe he'd yell.

But the yelling never came, he just sighed. That was when I noticed the bags under his teal eyes and the five-o'clock shadow that graced his normally well groomed face and I felt my throat closing up at the realization that I'd done that to him. Me being ga- whatever it is I was, was clearly taking a toll on him and obviously the rest of our dysfunctional family.

"What happened to you?" he questioned and I knew he didn't need an answer. This was proved right when he continued, "you moved out and we don't talk and now, you're getting into fights. You used to be a straight A student, what happened?" 

I knew he didn't want to hear bullshit but I couldn't sop myself from spewing it, "I came out."

And it ruined everything.

My dad let out another sigh before his eyes flickered to mine before focusing back on the road. I could see the disappointment in his gaze and I sincerely thought he'd just leave it at that but when his hand made its way to his turn signals and the car started drifting towards the right, I was confused.

Confused until he'd pulled over and before I could protest, turned the car off ". We were sitting on the side of the highway, my dad's head in his hands and him slouched all the way back in his seat.

And it was silent, the urge to flick on the radio or create conversation or just leave being shattered by the weight of his heavy breaths. He was exhausted with this little game of avoiding the situation we had going on. I gripped my seat, unable to think of anything other than how much of a disappointment I was and the regret of not taking Paul up on his offer of a ride home. But I needed this.

He needed this, some time to take everything into account, just time to talk because we just hadn't done that yet.

We couldn't keep pretending as if it were okay for me not to want to come back home or even call. I was going to speak, voice my opinion, whatever but he cut me off, "That's not an excuse and you know it."

I gulped, feeling so fucking weak and vulnerable and I honestly just wanted it all to stop. I was confused on my emotions, conflicted on my decisions and I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle any of it, "I'm sorry," I'd choked out, my eyes pricking with unshed tears as I thought of my mother and the church and the memory of her ring on the floor came back. It was running through my head on loop, the idea of separated parents and the fact that my father just seemed unhappy nowadays.

It was silent again.

And then, "your mother and I are getting a divorce."