I was nearly trembling as we sat in the car, Alex insisting on driving. He had noticed I had been shaky since I brought up that I just had to tell my father about us, me having to get it over and done with. Still, each breath I took was flawed, my thoughts filled with what my father would do. He might disown me, find me as a reject and just get rid of me, him not really around me much anyway.
Me and my father only talked a few times a year, his birthday, my birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving and if there was a family wedding, but would have these 'monthly' visits which would just be me sitting there as he ignored me. For a while, I'd been thinking if he had just bern avoiding me, just making himself nearly nonexistant in my life. It was a rare thing for me to actually want to see him anyway, his presence just making my stomach churn as I would look at his dull and glum face, us letting a unbearable silence grow, him nor I knowing what to say, therefor leaving the silence to grow.
I knew a few reasons why I avoided him otherwise, for he reminds me of the night he told me my mother was dead every time I look into his brown eyes, his faded, lifeless eyes to go with his grey and slightly blemished face, the odd wrinkle around his eyes, the corner of his lips. A few age spots noticable.
Thinking of the last visit, it didn't really go to well, the usual small talk then sitting in silence as he gave me the tea he had offered, me just leaving for I had not much reason even to go.
Another reason, he dragged work on his mind always, it the only think seeming to keep him sane, keeping him sober. He would just work as I'd be visiting, his interest better for an article about taxes than his own son.
It was just sickening to see him, him uninterested in anything but his job.
Then he was also a God fearing man. He feared to disobey him, he had taken it really hard remembering his past when he became this way. He feared that God would hate him for anything he'd do or say, so he secluded and isolated himself from us most of the time.
He kept a rosary beads banded around his wrist always, murmuring to his supposed savior, not paying attention to much else.
His life was just sad and dull. Full of fear and stress. I felt so sorry for him though. But, the one final thing that made me really not want to was he took the 'procreation' and 'homosexuality is a sin' thing a bit too seriously.
Whenever I told him I was no longer seeing the person I had been with when I last saw him, he would just tut in disapproval.
He only really spoke to me, other than the small talk, and it would be rarely, to give out about things.
I remember the very homophobic comments he made when some soap opera was just on the television, him not even paying much attention to it until he noticed two gay people were 'together'.
He just told me a long lection about God not wanting people to be homosexuals, it being not right because love is between a man and a woman, God says. Marriage is between a man and a woman. A lot of homophobics are too tied to the Word of God, or else they think homosexuality is either a choice or a disease.
It was probably the longest amount of time he had spoken to me in a long time.
I felt a hand tap my shoulder, my flooded mind clearing slightly, my head jolting over to the driver's seat where Alex was sat.
"We're here," he said with a hopeful smile. I took a shaky breath.
Maybe, because I'm his own son, his own flesh and blood, he might accept it. He's going to have to accept it anyway, because I wasn't going to drop everything I have had with Alex just because my father disapproves. The past two months and odd days had been probably a time where I just focused so much on just him in a different light. Feeling the butterflies at the little things he did. His laugh made my heart pound hard in my chest, it feeling as if it would just explode if he laughed once more. Our soft kisses full of ecstacy, our nights full of passion and our lust for each other.
