Sample Disc

“What are you going to tell your parents?” Ryan asks as we’re driving back home. It’s about two AM, and I haven’t bothered to call my parents.

“I dunno, I was out with Ryan seeing a movie or something.”

“Do they know?”

“Know what?”

“About-- about you, and about us, and about you?”

I shrug, looking out the window. People ask me all the time if I’m out to my parents.

Of course fucking not.

I’m not an idiot. I like having a place to stay, and food to eat, and all those good down home comfort kind of things.

“If I told them, they’d be pissed.”

“Since when do you have a problem pissing off your parents?”

“Since when does it fucking matter, Ryan? They don’t know, and it’s not like they need to.”

“So-- so what do you tell them? I mean, they have to assume you’ve been on a date, or they might be considering this anyways.”

“I tell them I’m going out. If they ask with who, I say girl from school. Easy as that. They don’t ask anymore questions.”

“So they don’t know. About. Us. And shit.”

Ryan sounds far more dejected than I’d expect from him.

“It’s not like I’m embarrassed of you or anything, you dick.” I huff, running my fingers over his knuckles. “It’s more like I don’t want to get kicked out or some shit. Not too keen on being homeless.”

“You could stay with me.” he says, quietly, almost like he was asking. But he can’t be, because he’s all with the still living with his dad thing.

“Thanks.” I smile, corners of my mouth twisting up awkwardly.

--

I’m laying on my bed, head hanging off the edge at an uncomfortable angle, staring up at the ceiling.

I kind of feel bad. For keeping Ryan a secret.

My phone is sitting on my stomach, inching towards the edge with every breath.

I fall asleep like that, hands tangled in my blanket, pillow on my knees.

I wake up fifteen or so minutes later to my phone vibrating, falling from my stomach to the ground, hitting my head on the way down.

It’s a text from Ryan, the cheesy mother fucker. It says, “dreamt of you. thought you should know. night.” no capitalization, just awkward romance communicated with technology.

This is bullshit.

--

“Shane, he’s like, putting me on a guilt trip or something.” I huff as we walk into our government class. “Like ‘hey, Brendon, you’re parents don’t know you’re a fag? Well, here, let me make you feel bad for keeping me a secret!’ and it’s bullshit!”

“It really doesn’t sound like he’s doing that. It sounds like you’re over reacting.”

I gape at him, eyes wide. “Whose fucking side are you on? Mine. You are on my side. Because You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not picking a side, you dick. I’m just saying, it sounds like you’re looking to deep into this. It’s like you’re looking for a problem to pick at. Because you do that kind of shit.”

“Fuck you, Shane. We’re fighting now. Don’t talk to me.”

“You’re being a bitch, Brendon.” He rolls his eyes, opening his book when the bell rings.

I’m not being a bitch.

I’m being completely fucking reasonable.

--

“So,” I say to Ryan as we drive past my street, heading towards wherever the fuck we’re going today instead of my house. “I’m thinking I tell me parents. About. Y’know. Everything.”

He nods, calm, cool, collected, not nearly as enthused as he should be.

“Okay.” He says, turning his left blinker on. “When?”

I shrug, frowning. I hadn’t thought about when I would out myself. I just. Kind of. Assumed it would be soon.

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” he asks as we pull up to a stop light. And shit, he’s just making everything more complicated.

“Well. No. Not… not like, specifically. I was mostly just going to just sit them down and say something like, ‘hey, looks like you’ve got another daughter, because I like cock.’ or something along those lines.”

He scoffs, actually scoffs, and rolls his eyes.

“Wayta be subtle, Bren. While you’re at it, tell them about how fond you are of drugs and alcohol.”

“You’re seriously not reacting in a helpful way, Ry.”

He snorts, nodding like he fucking gets it. He obviously does not.

“I’m trying to help you be tactful. I think the approval rating will be way below satisfactory if you tell them with an opening line like ‘I like cock’. Maybe be like, ‘hey, mom, dad, I’ve got this totally glorious, golden god of a boyfriend. And before you freak out, meet him, and you’ll completely understand why I like cock.’ and then, then they’ll probably get it.”

“Well, at least it still includes ‘I like cock’, because I feel like that’s the gravitational center of my whole coming out. It’s the delicious creamy center of the whole thing.”

“See? I know what you like.”

“Which, obviously, is cock.”

--

It’s awkward.

Sitting with Ryan across from my parents in the middle of an Olive Garden.

I figure with a bunch of wannabe Italians everywhere, and a bunch of low quality pasta stirring around in front of us, my parents are less likely to hit me. Or do anything else violent.

They may still be prone to screaming.

They were totally fucking baffled when I asked them to go out to lunch with me, especially when I mentioned that Ryan would be tagging along.

“So, uh, mom, dad,” I’m ripping up breadsticks and trying not to vomit on my parents salads. “I’ve got, uh, some pretty big news. Well, I guess it’s not really news as much as it is an update, I mean, considering it’s pretty old news that uh, you weren’t aware of.”

My mom is picking at her salad, my dad is looking extremely pissed off. Nothing really seems abnormal.

“Just tell us, Brendon. We don’t have all day.” My dad sounds huffy, and like he’d rather be somewhere else. I can’t say I really disagree with that sentiment.

I nod, taking a deep breath. “Well, I’m, uh,” and seriously? I’m having to fight off the urge to say ‘I like cock’. “I’m. I’m not exactly,” my parents are looking at me like I’m an idiot. This was a terrible idea. I’d back out, only Ryan is looking at me with his eyes all big and glossy, and he’s a manipulative little shit. “I’m in a relationship.”

I settle for that. This is kind of stupid.

My mom looks up from her plate, my dad’s eyebrows shoot up like he’s surprised. That’s fucking offensive. He’s surprised that I’m in a relationship.

“Well, that’s-- that’s great, honey.” My mom says, not really smiling, not frowning. Mostly she looks confused. And this really should not be as astonishing as my parents are making it seem. “With who, Brendon? Whose the lucky lady? And when do we get to meet her?” and my mother is sounding a little more excited than she should, and it’s probably because she thinks that this means I’m straight.

“Uh, she’s uh-- she’s--” I shoot a glance to Ryan, who is chuckling towards his plate, and he’s an asshole, and I can’t believe I’m doing this for him. “She’s uh,” I lace my fingers with Ryan’s, and he stops his cackling to look at our tangled fingers. I swallow hard, now or never, sink or swim, any other supposedly encouraging metaphor. “She’s Ryan. Ryan is her. Or, him, I guess. I’m dating Ryan.”

And everything goes incredibly quiet, and fuck, shit, I don’t know what the fuck my parents are thinking, and I’m terrified.