“I was sixteen. I wasn’t a little kid,” Daniel says, but he sounds like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“You were little. And he was—” Fuck! I don’t want to talk about this. “Anyway, you just did whatever you wanted and you didn’t care how much Pop sacrificed to take care of us.”
“Uh. What?”
I don’t say anything. I want this to be over. I want to go back to the moment Rafe told me he thought I should talk with Daniel—all warm chest and strong arms—and I want to tell him to shove it.
“Colin, seriously, what the hell? What do you mean, Pop sacrificed? What do you think he sacrificed?”
Daniel’s biting his lip, and he looks pale against the bright red of his sweater and the near-black of his hair. It’s only a little darker than Brian’s and Sam’s, his skin only a little lighter, but with his green eyes, the contrast is a lot more noticeable.
“He was a fucking fall-down mess after Mom died.”
“Yeah, I know,” Daniel says.
“You don’t know. You were a kid. You didn’t have a clue.”
“I know he drank himself to sleep every night for months. I know the school counselor had to call him because I showed up in the same dirty clothes for weeks and the kids wouldn’t sit next to me because they said I stank. I know Sam ordered pizza every day for so long we practically puked at the smell of it. I know Pop cried every time Cindy Lauper’s ‘Time After Time’ came on the radio even though he didn’t want anyone to see. And I know after a year or so he got his shit together but he was never the same. What I don’t know is what the hell you think I could’ve done about it.”
I had forgotten about that Cindy Lauper song.
“You just—” I shake my head and start cleaning the floor around Shelby’s food and water dishes. It gets dirty so quickly. “You didn’t have to make his life harder! That’s what I’m saying. He barely kept it all together and you were right there showing him all the ways he was failing. All the ways he wasn’t good enough. And then you tell him you’re gay—”
“I made his life harder?” Daniel stands up, hands on the table. “So you’re saying, what, that because he lost his wife, I should have done whatever he wanted for the rest of my life in an attempt to make him feel better? To make him feel like he succeeded at being a parent even without Mom? That is so intensely fucked, Colin! And in case you somehow missed it, he didn’t succeed. He was a shitty father! He was cruel and petty and he made me feel like a worthless piece of garbage all the time.”
“Yeah, right!” I stalk toward Daniel. “He babied you so hard. He never did that shit with me. If I’d pulled half the shit you did—”
“Babied me! What shit did I pull? You’re insane! All I did—all I ever fucking did—was tiptoe around you all so I could get my homework done and get out of the house without a slap or a punch or having you look at me like I was disgusting.”
“You were disgusting!” I yell in his face. “Prancing around like you were better than everyone. Like you didn’t care about your responsibility to our family. Like all you wanted was to get as far away from us as possible and live your perfect fucking life with your perfect fucking boyfriend and never see us again!”
Daniel blinks quickly, his green eyes huge and his face pale. I can hear every swallow he takes.
“What family?” he says softly. “What family is it that you think I had, brother? You and Brian and Sam, Dad, you were a family. You loved him. I know that. And you all had your cars and your sports and your beer. What the fuck did you want from me? I wasn’t part of that. Any time I even tried—if I asked how your day was, if I asked how the shop was—you made it clear you didn’t want me to be a part of your family. My family died the day Mom died, and you blame me for trying to be honest about who I was? There was nothing for me at home, but you think I should’ve pretended to like it there? Lied about what I wanted? About who I wanted it with? I didn’t even care about telling Dad and you guys that I was gay. I only did it because you saw me with Buddy and I knew that if I didn’t tell them before you did, then you would present it in the most disgusting way possible.”
“No! I would never have told Pop because I knew it would break his fucking heart to have a—”
Daniel takes a step toward me, his arms wrapped around himself.
“To have a what? To have a faggot for a son?” His voice is eerily calm. “Well, I guess you’d know.”