<Kieran's POV>
"How's my future NBA star doing of late? I haven't been hearing much from you Kieran"
I wonder why.
I pulled at my collar, the stiff button-down Mum had forced me into making my neck itchy. I was in khakis and a short-sleeved button-down all per her request. I wasn't sure why she tried so hard to impress the jackass, but I did what I could to make her smile. Especially because I knew he would flip it around just as fast.
"It's going well. Talked to a few recruiters and they invited me down to watch them this coming season. Both my school and travel coach are writing me rec. letters" I recited monotonously, catching the excited glimpse in my father's eyes.
"Good, good" He hummed in faux-thoughtfulness.
There was no "how are you" in this conversation. The only reason my dad was interested in me was because I was good at basketball. He checked his watch again and I looked at the clock on the mantle. Visiting hours were two hours long and we were only half an hour in with nothing left to discuss.
I wanted him to leave.
"How's school?"
"Good."
He relapsed into science, trying to stir his two brain cells to come up with another question. Hopefully, he'd try and fail to make this one open-ended in response and then he'd recognize that he'd lost this battle and take his shit and leave. Hopefully.
"I have snacks for you boys" Mum cheerily entered the room in her Sunday best.
She always got dolled up when my father came to visit, a perfect little apron around her waist and make up covering all the blemishes he'd called her out on. This version of Mum was a recent development. When my father remarried he'd brought me over to his house to see his new wife. She was tiny, barely up to my chest. She sounded like a squeaky toy, and looked like a doll. Suddenly, after that, every time he came over was a desperate attempt for my Mother to prove herself. It made me nauseous to see her try so hard for something that wasn't even worth half of her little pinky.
I muttered a quiet thanks, looking at my father who looked past Mum like she wasn't even there. She waited a few seconds.
"Anything else?"
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and I grit my teeth, hands curling up into a fist.
"Actually, Mum" I called her back and she scurried over, excited.
"I need a book, it's for the summer reading"
"Oh, of course dear. I'll take you out after--"
"--Could you actually order it on Amazon for me?"
I tried to shake of any guilt I was feeling. My mum had absolutely no clue how to navigate electronics, much less how to navigate Amazon. I just needed her busy and out of this room.
"Of course dearie. Call if you need me!" She smiled brightly, aiming the effect at my father, who was busy typing away at his phone. Her smile dropped some and she left. I let out an audible sigh, running a hand down my face before I turned back to deal with him.
"Thank god." He laughed, pocketing the phone.
"Thanks for getting her off my back" He smiled.
"I didn't do it for you" I spat.
"I did it for her. She doesn't have to put up with your bullshit"
His eyes sparked with anger but they fizzled out. His slate gray eyes slid down their gates and I suddenly felt the room get ten degrees colder.
"We're going out"
He got up from his chair, smoothing down his formal pants. He picked up the sports coat he'd tossed over the back of the couch before looking at me expectantly. I scowled, rubbing my sweaty hands on my khakis before getting up and following him to the front door. His car was parked in our driveway and I slid into the passenger seat quietly, a frown still etched onto my face.
"Kieran, you could at least pretend that you liked me" My father semi-joked, starting the engine and backing out of the driveway.
I realized that we were heading into town, the route very familiar.
"I don't have to do anything" I dead-panned, angrily looking out of the window.
"If I had known this was how you were going to treat me, I wouldn't have come" He tried to keep up his teasing tone, but I could see the dangerous flash in his eyes as he spoke. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles turning white and then pink as he relaxed and the blood pooled to them.
"Hmm, well now you know"
He glowered at me, eyes shooting daggers into the side of my head. We stopped at a red light and, immediately, his hand shot out and grabbed my left wrist. I'd seen it coming and I grabbed his wrist with my right hand, staring him full in the eyes.
"Touch me and I swear to god I'll snap your wrist so the next time you try jerking your limp dick you'll have to rub raw against a cast"
His hand released my wrist like it had burned him. He hurriedly turned back to his wheel, relief flooding his face when the light turned green. My father had never been around long enough to get violent with me, but his frequent lapses in both judgment and temper made him an observed target by the social workers. He got riled up way too easy, and his anger was almost always executed in a physical way. Shoves, pushes, pinches and wrist-grabbing were his calling cards.
Though these weren't really anything serious, I could easily throw my father under the bus with a few tears and choice words. All I needed to do was talk to my social worker, and I had her number on speed dial. I had only held off of doing that so far for my Mum.
"We're going to go get pizza" He said, with zero room for discussion. I offered nothing in response, using the time to mull over all the crazy shit going on in my life.
Like Lukas-fucking-Schmitt.
"Kieran, son, we're here"
I mutely got out of the car, being sure to slam the door especially hard. My father shot me a pointed look to which I responded with a smile. His eyes flared again but he reciprocated it, making sure to not hold the door open for me as we walked in.
Asshole.
"Hello! Welcome to Franco's. Are you here for a pick-up, or dine-in?"
"Table for two" My father smiled thinly as the hostess' smile fluttered before brightening again. Her smile became decidedly fake and I offered her a sympathetic shrug.
Yeah, he has that amazing effect on people. The suck-your-soul-and-all-your-happiness kind of effect.
"Of course, Michael will show you to your seats."
Well, fuck.
"Please be another Michael. Please be another Michael. Please be another Mi--you have got to be fucking with me" I prayed silently under my breath, adding a curse into the mix as none other than Lukas' gay boy toy grabbed the menus to show us to our seats. I hadn't had time to really dwell over the whole Lukas-and-Michael-fooled-around-at-some-point idea, but now seemed like the perfect time. I shot daggers into Michael's back, unrelenting even when he sent me an unimpressed glance.
His name tag had been fixed, and underneath the Michael was a cute little smiley face accompanied by a little sticker of a rainbow heart. I blanched when I realized what exactly it was.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. Being gay or lesbian or whatever had always seemed like a private matter. I'd done some research and decided to label myself as Questioning. It seemed the least scary of my options. The whole "pride" thing threw me off completely though since I figured I'd only want those close to me to know.
Why would anyone want the whole world to know about their sexual preferences?
I filed the thought in the back of my mind to ask DJ later. He was quickly becoming the gay encyclopedia I'd never knew I needed.
"Kieran, is the meat-lover's pizza good for you?"
My father nodded his head, urging me to agree so we could quickly eat and get this whole ordeal over with. I shrugged apathetically, watching Michael walk off with our menus. He sent me one last look before disappearing to get our drinks, which I had admittedly not paid attention to while ordering.
"Didn't realize there were so many gays here" My father mused, smirking at me across the table.
I stiffened. I was used to him talking like that. He had a weird, inexplicable interest in gay people. Anytime we'd walk by someone who looked gay he'd point it out to me with a quick elbow and a whisper. I'd grown up with it, but I was quickly realizing that it was far from normal. My dad was a homophobe, albeit a strange one. He'd casually use slurs, eyes more adept to labeling and shaming people than even the most skilled school bully.
"Yeah, they exist. Just like you and me" I answered, not as confident as I would've liked. It was like I forgot how to breathe for a split second, realizing that I was one of the people he'd always talked about.
"Of course, yeah." He tried to smooth it over, "It's a shame how mistreated fags are just 'cause of their mental... err... issues"
I was stunned into silence.
"I can't say I'm innocent of mistreating them, but I'm much better than those other folk" He smiled like he'd proven a point and I felt anger boil over inside of me.
Confusion, yeah. But mainly anger. It was white-hot and I suddenly remembered every fucking word he'd ever told me about being gay. About being anything really, except for what he wanted me to be.
How dare he fucking look at me like he's innocent? I'm fucked in the head because of him. Almost lost my friends because of him. Almost lived my whole life like a lie because of him.
"You always taught me that being gay was a sickness and it was wrong" I tried keeping my voice steady, eyes unable to meet his.
"It's not wrong, I realize that now. Those people are sick and they need our help, they just deny it." He shook his head, eyes feigning a phoney sadness I'd seen millions of times before.
"I try my best to help them, I do. But the media keeps spreading lies about it being normal, so more and more people refuse to accept the aid they need"
I opened my mouth, eyes narrowed into impossible slits. My fists were curled into tight fists, nails biting into the calloused flesh of my palm. I was sure my entire face was red, teeth grinding together like gears in my mouth. My mind was helplessly trying to calm me down, but I was too far gone to hold back.
"I've failed so many people," My father sighed, eyes meeting mine across the table.
"My biggest failure being one that impacted your life too"
For the second time that day my heart skipped a beat, mouth running dry.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm sorry, Kieran," He looked at me with those stupid sad eyes.
"I'm sorry I couldn't help your mother"
___________________________
1950 words
Caoimhe Mogan played by Orla Brady (as portrayed above ^^^)
This chapter was a bit hard for me to write. It's a bit long, but hopefully I got all the points I wanted to address across.
Was anyone expecting that?
As always, thank you for reading!