From the Archive: The Talk Between Child and Father (2021)

A short story I wrote back in 2021. This is probably one of my favorite pieces I've written.

No notes this time, because I can’t really think. I’ll let the short story speak for itself. I love it.

"You're up early," he grunted, pouring coffee into his mug. The sun was just coming up, and the birds chirping as life sprung up outside. When I didn't answer, he looked at me and sighed. "Let me guess, you stayed up all night, again." I nodded. There was no question about it, just a fact.

"Well," he opened the fridge and looked inside. "When was the last time you've gotten out? You look pale, like you've seen a ghost." The old man chuckled at the thought, and then reached towards a bottle of hazelnut creamer. "Listen, Alex. I get it. You might not think so, but I do."

Silence.

"People used to scare me too." He opened the bottle of creamer, and let it pour into his coffee. "I had no friends, and it was difficult to connect with family. I felt different, no. I was different." I looked up at him when he said that. He smiled and continued, "You know that feeling inside of your chest, the one you can't share with anyone else?"

I stared at him, admittedly more curious than before. Where was he going with this?

"For me," he took a big gulp of his coffee, inhaling deeply as he set the cup down. "For me, it was that underlying feeling that I didn't like girls. And for me, it was that deafening feeling that I didn't like guys either."

I gasped.

"For years I was trapped under this expectation that I had to be attracted to someone, maybe to anyone. But I didn't feel that sort of attraction at all. I thought there was something wrong with me, like I was a broken record, waiting to be thrown out. If I couldn't feel attraction, would anyone want me?"

I looked down and quietly picked at my fingers.

"The thought consumed me, and it bugged at all my relationships with other people. I became reclusive, unable to bear what others would think of me." His head hung low, as if he was recalling a bad memory. His voice was soft, yet rough as he continued talking. "Then, one day, I met him: the sweetest man of my entire life."

"Dad," I whispered, and he smiled at me. It was then that I noticed the pain he was hiding in his face and his eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he laughed. "I need you to know that no matter where your head is at, everything will turn out okay. When I met your dad, I wasn't even sure he would accept me. I was different, but do you know what he told me?"

A million different possibilities raced through my mind.

"He told me I was perfect exactly the way that I am." He took another sip of coffee, maybe to try and hide the blush behind his smile. "It didn't matter to him if I couldn't be attracted to him in the way he was to me, he told me he loved me anyway.”

"But of course, the road is a harsh one. There were many ups and downs, and sometimes neither one of us were confident about the future. Yet, I found myself able to open up more about who I am. I didn't feel so confined to my head, my thoughts a turmoil of miserable anxiety.”

"I just want you to know, Alex. It will be okay, I know you're scared to be yourself, but you don't have to hide yourself from other people. Take your time, kiddo, and open yourself up when you're ready. There's no shame in this, but please, it gets better. I promise."

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