Murphy dropped me off at home after spending majority of the day at LACMA. We had a great time, and before he left he asked me an interesting question.
"Are we. . .friends? I know it might be weird."
I didn't even think as I said, "Definitely."
"To which part?" Murphy asked with a smile.
"Both."
After he was gone, I was left feeling sort of liberated. An unknown weight lifted off of my shoulders.
But the weight of me and Bobby's fight was still there.
It was, that is, up until I walked into the house.
"I'm home, Mom!" I called into the abyss of the house.
"Where have you been?" my mom said as she was coming down the stairs. She stopped once she saw my haircut.
"Oh wow! You look great!"
"Thanks, Mom. Sorry, I went to go get a haircut."
"Clearly," she stepped closer, "Well, that's okay I guess. It is your head."
She turned to head back to her room and said behind her back, "Oh, there's something for you on the kitchen counter. It was on the doorstep earlier."
I looked towards the island and saw a tiny box wrapped in metallic red wrapping paper and a single red rose.
I practically sprinted to the kitchen, eager to see what it was.
I opened the box with furious speed, seeing a white box under the metallic cover. I slowly took the top off, to see Bobby's apology.
It was an apology in the form of a silver chain necklace, with one single circular locket. I opened it and saw that there was a picture of Bobby and I in Disneyland, kissing under the illumination of the fireworks show. I forgot he had all of our pictures from that trip printed. It was also inscribed with the words, "Love you, kid."
Majority of the time, I absolutely hated it when he called me that. But seeing it on that locket made me smile.
It was an adequate apology, even if he never said the words, "I'm sorry."
*****
My legs shook on the walk towards Bobby's door. I was terrified to speak to him after last night.
It wasn't the first fight we've had, but it was our first fight as a couple, and it was much more painful that way.
It was those kind of things that made me feel as though us as a couple may have been a bad idea.
I was at his door, taking shaky breaths. I knocked four times, with quiet determination.
My hands found my pockets right after, anticipation eating away at my heart.
The door swung open not too long after, revealing Uncle Thomas standing in the doorway with a stoic facial expression.
"Oh, uh. . .hi. I'm looking for Bobby. . .?" I sort of mumbled. Uncle Thomas always terrified me, and I didn't know why.
"He's not here yet," he grunts as his arms crossed over his broad chest. He had Bobby's ice blue eyes, but his seemed to burn through me like fire rather than Bobby's soft and comforting gaze.
I looked down, not wanting to ignite under Uncle Thomas's gaze. "Oh," I say, "Okay."
I was about to turn around and run, but his gruff voice said, "Come in, you can wait for him."
Alarms rang inside my head. This idea scared me more than his face or hard-ass demeanor. No, the idea of being alone with this intimidating man made me want to run for the hills.
Instead, I smiled politely and said, "Okay, thank you."
He stepped aside and let me walk in. I immediately went for the wicker couch in the living room, faster than I should have.
It wasn't the rudeness of the gesture that made me mentally slap myself; it was the fact that I had made myself at home so fast, knew where to sit, knew not to sit in his recliner.
As far as Uncle Thomas knew, I had only been there twice. During the summer, I had been over numerous times while he was away. Video game sessions, make-out sessions, even simple conversations took place on that wicker couch. Even though Bobby had his own space down in the basement we liked to enjoy the full range of space we had available.
Luckily, he didn't pay my reckless gesture any mind, and just sat down on his recliner that faced my direction.
Silenced seeped into the air around us, making me particularly interested in my own shoes. I avoided making eye contact with him, but I knew conversation was inevitable.
I took a chance, "When do you think Bobby will be back?" I asked after clearing my throat.
He shrugged, which looked weird considering he was still staring at me, "I don't know, shouldn't be more than two hours."
I found myself groaning mentally. Two more hours of this wasn't something to look forward to. I simply nodded in understanding and went back to staring at my fascinating feet.
The only noises that could be heard was the occasional passing of cars outside, the tapping of Uncle Thomas's feet, and the rapid pounding of my heart. I despised the silence, but my fear of this man kept me from breaking it.
He finally spoke after what seemed like ages, "What do you need Bobby for?"
A spike in my heart rate almost made me choke on my own spit. "Um," I cleared my throat, "I need to talk to him about something."
"About what, if you don't mind me asking?" Uncle Thomas asked with cold and calculating eyes.
I was wary about telling him about the fight, considering Bobby had snuck out to participate in it. I was also worried about his view of me. I had no idea if Bobby told him we were actually dating. I also had a gut feeling that if he did know, he'd have a huge problem with it.
So I simply said, "Just some personal stuff. Some issues need resolution."
He nodded, seemingly amused. His eyes never left me, though, and I could tell he was suspicious of something.
The awkward silence took hold again, but this time it was electrified; I held eye contact with Uncle Thomas to the point where I actually felt him glaring into my soul.
I knew he had figured it out. He wasn't a fool.
And his burning eyes entailed trouble.
Suddenly, the front door was unlocked. In stepped Bobby, surprised to see me sitting in his living room. Even more surprised his uncle was there with me.
"Hey," he said to both of us, setting his backpack down next to the door.
I waved at him, but Uncle Thomas didn't even respond. He was still staring daggers at me.
"What are you guys up to?" Bobby asked, stepping closer to us. I stared at him with fearful eyes, hoping he'd offer to leave with me or something.
"Nothing. Just talking," Uncle Thomas said, his eyes never leaving me.
Actually, I thought, quite the opposite.
Bobby seemed to catch on, as he nodded slightly to me.
Before Bobby could say anything to get us out of there, however, Uncle Thomas spoke, "Bobby, can I talk to you real quick?" His eyes ever left mine, and it terrified me to think about what he had to talk to Bobby about.
Without waiting for a response, Uncle Thomas stood up and walked to a room in the back, probably his bedroom.
Bobby kneeled in front of me, his touch soft and tentative. "Stay here, okay?" he whispered.
I nodded, and he placed a gentle hand on my cheek before leaving to the room.
I heard the door shut behind him.
Being alone was bad news for me. It left me alone with my thoughts. And I always overthink things. So my imagination was left to run wild in the emptiness of the room.
I imagined a tense conversation where his uncle threatened me, or worse, Bobby.
I imagined an actual fistfight that reinforced Bobby's losing streak.
I imagined all sorts of things that didn't sit well with me.
It only became worse when I heard Uncle Thomas yelling through the walls.
"You think I'm an idiot? You think I don't know what's going on between you two?"
Bobby's voice rang loud and clear in response, "I never said you were, but making assumptions isn't-"
Uncle Thomas cut him off, "I'm not making any assumptions! I know for a fact that that kid in there is a faggot, and so are you!"
I covered my mouth in shock, the pricking of the word leaving an invisible sting throughout my body. I was starting to hate these thin walls.
"Don't talk about him that way! Say whatever the fuck you want about me, but don't talk about him like that! You don't know him!"
My heart jumped at Bobby's defense. Despite my fear of this situation, I knew he wasn't mad. At me, anyway.
"I'm the adult, I say whatever the hell I want! Now, if you want to continue staying here, you're gonna stop bringing him around! Or stop seeing him altogether. I don't want any faggots in my house, and that includes you!"
"No!" Bobby boomed, "You can't dictate who I am or who I love!"
"You think this is love? You think you'll be together forever? It's a phase, Robert! Get the fuck over it!"
I knew things would only get worse from there. Bobby hated being called by his real name, for reasons unknown.
"Stop acting like you know me!" Bobby shrieked, and I could hear the tears in his throat threatening to leave.
"If you don't stop seeing him, I'll call your mother and have you sent right back to Sac. I will not tolerate this madness!"
"Fine! I'll leave then!"
It was then I heard Bobby leave the room swiftly, slamming the door behind him.
He stormed into the living room and offered his hand to me, his kind eyes paired oddly with his scowl.
As soon as I took it, he pulled me up and walked out of the door, without anything but me in his hands.