Coffee, Grit, and my Dad's Best Shoes 4.7

A/N: This one's a big long, but there's nowhere to split it

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I spent Wednesday avoiding Perry and Alyssa outside of letting them guide me to my classes. The growing nausea and inability to centre my focus on anything anyone was saying grated on me- too much so for pushing for socialization. I only vaguely remembered a handful of other students introducing themselves, and by the time the dismissal bell rang, I was in tatters.

I'd finally told Mom that morning that both she and Parker were going to show up, and that no, I didn't think it was rude at all because Chad's volatile levels of homophobia made me feel unsafe. That, at least, she'd understood. Even if I had been squeezing a half-truth through my teeth. I met Nicky outside the main entrance after pushing my way through the halls, pretending not to have heard Alyssa call my name. Twice.

"Hey, Sugarplum," Nicky said. She pushed herself off the wall she'd been leaning on, lips curled down. "Jeez, you look rough."

I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand and shrugged, eyes glued to the pavement. "The sweater isn't even helping." I had a thing for sweaters- the more patterned, the better- and the one I had on was one Nicky'd given me for my birthday last year. It was a thick, Marvel Comics-themed cotton pull-over with scenes from the X-Men comics all across the front and back. I'd kind of had a thing for Storm back in the day, and she was the focus of most of the strips.

Nicky's lips curled down. "The sweater always helps." She held out a hand, and I took it, letting her lead me down the front steps to the parking lot.

"I know." I sighed. "It's like this every time I have to see him, though."

There was a pause, and then a quiet, "You really think it's a good idea to bring Parker?" She must have noticed how tense I got, because she tossed in a quick, "I just don't want to see him get hurt, y'know? Or for Chad and Elisa to implode all over your living room or something, because I'm pretty sure it'd suck for everyone involved."

I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat and scrambled into her dad's truck. "I don't think I'd be okay if Parker didn't come, honestly." Perry and Alyssa had kept me moderately sane yesterday, and as horrendously dependant as it sounded, pretending that Parker was there was all that'd kept me from snapping today. "Where're we picking him up again?"

"Some hair salon on Poymont. They're offering scholarships or something to an aesthetics college." She pulled out of the lot, gnawing on her bottom lip. "At least, that's what he told me when I texted him this morning. Apparently salons won't start you as a receptionist and put you through training to be a stylist anymore."

I frowned, but anything that I could've said was stuck to the back of my throat, so I just nodded. Thinking about the future wasn't really in my best interest. I slumped back in my seat, thankful that Nicky hadn't turned on the truck stereo- I suppose she knew how overwhelmed I got- and took to people watching from the passenger window. This side of town was a lot busier than ours was, and a lot more uptight. There was plenty to try be distracted by.

We picked up Parker where he said he'd be, and aside from exchanging a few pleasantries with Nicky, he didn't say anything. Neither of them did. Honestly, I don't think either of them knew what to say, and I didn't know what I wanted to hear; I couldn't exactly lead them in conversation. I focused on breathing instead, and closed my eyes so that I could listen to Nicky drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, and zero in on whatever scent Parker was wearing. Under the coffee grounds, there was a light cinnamon, and everything about it was soothing.

I didn't tune back into reality until the truck came to a stop. I blinked my eyes open, gluing them to the little blue car in the driveway, and almost broke down sobbing right then.

They were in there. This was happening.

"Hey." Nicky squeezed my hand. "You're okay, okay? We've got you, Braz."

I let out a slow, shuddering breath, sliding a hand to my seat-belt. It took a good five seconds before I actually pressed the button, and another two minutes before I could make myself clamber out the door. Nicky and Parker followed; she took her place in front of us, and as soon as Parker was close enough for me to do so, I tucked myself into his side while he folded his arm over my shoulders. He was tense, but in a different way than I was. His was all protective energy- the same kind that Nicky was sending off in waves. Nothing about either of their postures communicated any level of fear.

I suppose that was just me.

Nicky opened the door, calling a casual, if not somewhat strained, "Hey, Mai!" and shuffled aside to give us room.

I almost gagged when the door closed.

"Hello, Nicky!" I could hear her pushing herself off the couch, and the second she turned the corner, her smile dissipated. It morphed into a concerned frown- the same kind she threw on every time she saw how crippling Chad and Elisa's visits were.

Her gaze drifted to Parker, who had successfully forced his facial expression into one of easy charisma and a friendly sort of indifference. I, for one, didn't overlook the dangerous gleam behind it.

"I already told them you'd be here," she whispered. "I apologize in advance."

Nicky followed her into the living room, immediately sparking a conversation with Elisa that was riddled with the subtlest forms of passive aggression. The older woman didn't seem to catch on. Parker stayed back with me for a few seconds while I tried to remember the formula for breathing. I refused to take a step towards the living room until I could do so.

Chad glared at me when he'd walked in. The exact same glare he'd given me when he found out. He was right there. He was right there, and he looked absolutely appalled. I could already feel my breathing grow uneven.

Parker's hand settled on the small of my back, gently guiding me to the chair Nicky'd stationed herself in. It was large enough that she'd squished to one side and Parker could squish into the other, leaving enough room for me to sit between them.

Mom cleared her throat, just as Francis swept in from the kitchen with a tray of cookies and a pitcher of juice. The cups had already been stacked on the coffee table. She glanced at us, frowned when I tried to muster a reassuring smile, and settled on the furthest side of the couch after putting everything down.

"Chad, Elisa," Mom started, "This is Parker Heyton. He's..." She faltered, glancing at us from the corner of her eye. I think Parker's nod was in sync with mine. "Brazil's boyfriend."

If she'd done what she said she'd done and warned them in advance, they weren't showing it. Elisa's lips pursed, eyes widening, and Chad's entire face contorted. He gave Parker and up-and-down, and the afflicted took a slow, subtle breath that I felt under my side.

"Found yourself quite the fag, didn't you, Brazil?" he asked, and that was the part where I almost lost it. That was always the part where I almost lost it. The second he opened his mouth, my eyes were misting over, and my entire body was trembling. And somehow, I had to keep myself under control, because Mom was watching.

"Don't call Parker a fag."

Every eye in the room was drawn to Francis, who was curled up around and staring intently at her glass of juice. She was the last person I'd have expected to say anything. She loved me, I knew she did, but she was more timid than I was when it came to tense situations. I could almost feel the pride emanating from Parker.

"I will make you leave, Chad," Mom added, pouring three glasses of juice. She handed all of them off to Parker, Nicky and myself before sitting. Chad and Elisa's hands remained empty.

Chad licked his lips, and every part of me hated the way he was looking at us. At Parker. Nicky shifted, sliding her shoulder out to settle it over me instead, body twisting just barely. It was another subtle motion, but it obstructed their view of me to some extent. Plus, it soothed me.

"We don't have to be hostile, Chad," Elisa chirped, and I pushed myself further into the couch.

We don't have to be so hostile, Chad, was exactly what she'd said right before he'd convinced her they were justified.

He grunted and leaned back, and I was partially aware of him asking me how my leg and chest felt. I only vaguely remember answering him, but I remember, very clearly, that my tone was completely robotic. Another string of tense pleasantries, and Elisa asked me what school I was going to.

I clamped my jaw shut, and when Mom started to answer, Nicky shot her a look that was half-pleading and half-sharp (which was odd, considering how much respect she had for my mother). Elisa dropped it, and the conversation turned. Every effort they made at digging up information about Parker, or where we liked to hang out, or about the relationship at large resulted in all five of us skirting around specific answers. We could all tell that Chad was getting frustrated. He could tell that we were wary of him.

"What do you do then, Parker?" was eventually asked by Elisa.

He smiled at her. "I'm a receptionist at a salon. Going into training to be a hair stylist next year." His hand twitched. I was almost positive that it was because his middle finger wanted a place in the conversation.

Chad's face scrunched up again, lips curled like Parker'd told him that he ate babies every Thursday as part of his morning Satan-worship ritual. "That's a very emasculate line of work, Mr. Heyton." He grunted. "Typical, though."

Parker smiled tightly. "Boys like me find the masculinity ideals set in place by boys like you to be outdated and outrageously boring, Mr. Imora." I was more surprised that he remembered my mother's maiden name than I was by the intense gay-voice levels.

Chad nodded like Parker had just proven his point, swishing a hand in a condescending, surprisingly stereotypically-homosexual manner. "Said the faggot. I'll pray for you, Parker. And if that doesn't work, I'll pray for any boy whose parent is stupid enough to let him walk into that salon."

Parker's eyebrows went up. "I'm sorry Chad, I don't quite understand what you mean. Would you care to put on a big boy face and not beat around the bush of not-so-subtle subtle accusations?"

Mom glanced at me, and I just took a deep breath and tried to hide further behind Nicky. She draped an arm over my shoulders, eyes locked on Elisa's. The latter almost looked scared.

Chad leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, hands folded together in front of him. His eyebrows went up, and his voice dropped. "My apologies. I know that you emasculate yourselves to work in salons in order to sexually exploit the young boys who come in and encourage your homosexual lifestyle."

I counted eleven seconds of dead silence, glancing at Parker's face. I don't think I'd ever seen a tighter, more sarcastic smile in my life. His jaw was clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was dripping acid and venom directly from the rainbow that bore him. "If you ever accuse me of plotting to sexually exploit anyone ever again, Mr. Imora, I'll shove my fist so far up your ass that it'll rupture your large intestine."

I don't know if it was the threat that had Chad's face flushing, or if it was the fact that Parker'd nailed a pissy-drag-queen voice without even trying, but he looked absolutely disgusted. His mouth opened, but Parker cut him off with a cool, "Don't even. I'm not the predator here, you hypocritical-" the queen edged out as his voice rose "-self-righteous-" he was halfway to standing, "-piece of shit."

I grabbed his wrist before he stood completely, squeezing with every ounce of strength I had in me. For a second, I thought he was going to ignore me entirely and maul the man, but my nails dug, and he looked back at me. I don't know if it was the obvious fear, the pleading expression, or the fact that the wall of tears was so thick I could barely even see him, but he softened. Everyone was silent as he sat, but the second he was down, Elisa chimed in with a low, dangerous,

"I think I know what you're talking about, and what Chad did, Parker, doesn't make him a hypocrite." She shoved a finger at us. "God clearly states that what you boys are doing is an abomination, and what Chad did was for his own go-"

Nicky's moccasin hit her in the face before she could finish; I hadn't even noticed that she hadn't removed them at the door, or that she'd been stood up until it left her hand, or that I'd been holding my breath before it all came out in one ragged, quiet gasp.

"Don't you dare!" She practically shrieked it, and it made me flinch. "You're so lucky you're pregnant, Elisa, or I'd-"

It was Mom's turn to shoot up, and just the sound of it made me jolt. My entire body was screaming protests, it was so tense.

"Leave." She shoved a finger at the entrance. "Both of you get your occult asses out of my house before I call the police." I'd known it as soon as I'd woken up that something was going to happen today, but I had not, absolutely had not, been expecting it to be that fast. The tension levels had been too high coming into the house, and I had a feeling that Parker and Nicky had done a lot of prep work. Back-and-forth texting of game-plans and the second they say anything even remotely awful.

There were tears on my cheeks before I knew what was happening, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, just in case my stomach did decide to reject what was left in it from lunch. Parker's arms wrapped around me, and somehow, I ended up being drawn onto his lap with my face planted firmly in the crook of his shoulder. There was yelling, I knew, but I was too busy trying to stop the ringing in my ears and the way my heart was squeezing to bother trying to discern the voices.

I startled when the door slammed, and again at a light touch on my arm. I pried my face out of Parker's neck and blinked at France, twisting around because she'd opened her arms and I knew for a fact that her hugs worked best to calm me down. I was stooping at an awkward angle, but she managed.

"Was Elisa talking about you when-"

"Yes," I said, cutting off her whisper. "Just... France, don't..."

"I won't ask, okay?" Her voice was higher than it had been, and she pulled back a little. "I know you don't like it when I ask."

I mustered a smile, weak as it was, and brushed some of her hair back. "It's just not something that you need to worry about, okay? I- it's fine. I'm fine."

She nodded obviously unconvinced, took my glass off the end table- I wasn't entirely sure how it'd gotten there- and handed it to me. I accepted it with a shaky thank you and managed to down a couple sips before Mom and Nicky walked back into the room, Nicky the personification of a thunder cloud, Mom a mixture of that and flat-out horror.

"Brazil, I-" Mom started, but stopped, one hand moving to cover her mouth. There were tears in her eyes, and I don't know how she'd put two and two together from that little conversation, but I was positive she had. Granted, she'd had a few years to take notice of the piling evidence. "Francis, I want you to go to your room, okay? I- this isn't..." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

She looked at me, and then at Mom, before drifting down the hall. Mom didn't say anything until we heard her door close.

"I'm not going to make you tell me what happened," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "but I've put enough together over the past couple years to know that something did, and if you need to- if you feel like you should tell me, Brazil, I really, really hope that you're okay to do so."

I stared at her for a few seconds, strictly because I was barely processing what she was saying and it took too long to register, before pushing out a shaky, "Do you remember when Francis got pneumonia really bad when she was five?"

The more numb and more distant I felt, the easier it'd be to push out the story. I could already feel myself shutting down.