Speechless

Days passed, and no sign of my father showed up whatsoever. Aimless thoughts of him getting into a car accident due to his alcohol intake seeped into my mind. They would take me away if he died, I think. I’m only 16, and if I was in school, I’d be a junior. I’d have to leave Brendon. I couldn’t think of any immediate family I could just stay with. My father had no siblings, my mom is just gone, her family doesn’t care. My grandparents are dead. I’m basically the only one left, really.

Brendon seemed to notice my uneasiness of late. He took more caution and care towards my feelings throughout the days; anyone could tell.

“What’s bothering you so much, Ry? I have to know.” He questioned, as if he were interviewing me.

“Uhh… well, what if my dad like… I dunno… got in a car crash and fucking died? He’s my dad, and I have no idea if he’s even alive. And if that’s not upsetting enough, what the fuck would happen to me? I have no family other than him.”

The reality of my situation must not have ever sunk fully into Brendon’s mind because the second I told him everything on my mind. A frown was forced upon his face, a look that didn’t suit him well. He carefully bit his lower lip, thinking about what to do.

“Hold on a second,” he said, leaving me alone in his room. What was he doing? I sat down in his arm chair and stared blankly out the window. My mind went idle as I waited for Brendon to come back. I could hear the faint yelling of his mother, throwing another bitch fit at Brendon. It was something that happened quite often these days.

Eventually he came back with a look of satisfaction on his face.

“I talked to my mom about it.”

“About… what, exactly?” he was confusing the shit out of me, now.

“You. If your dad is really… uh… yeah, well, I got my mom to agree to adopt you, if there’s no other alternative, she says.”

My jaw dropped, hitting the floor with immense force. Brendon forcefully shut it with he palm of his hand.

“You should probably go thank my mom.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless. My mind was completely blank, unable to comprehend the situation. Adopt… me? Why? That’s so absurd. It would be so weird, being adopted into a family with Brendon. I mean, fuck, who am I kidding, I’m fucking in love with him, and yet… yet… being adopted in the same family? That’s just too weird, you know?

“I… I don’t know… what to say,” I said, not moving anything but my jaw. “How would that even work anyways?”

“I don’t know. We’d make it work.”

I thought about it for a moment. It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I don’t know. I’d take the chance though if it was my only way to stay with him. Still, it was an extremely hard concept to grasp, and I found myself doing everything with subtle hints of confusion. I was just really uneasy about it all.

“Really, Ryan, it’s no trouble at all. The house is usually way too empty when you’re not here. We’ve grown accustomed to your presence.”

His mom was speaking somewhat professionally, as I was some sort of business transaction. Ah, well, you can’t win ‘em all.

Dinner was quite the awkward meal of the day, I do decree. Everything was normal, except no one spoke. Me not speaking was something people could handle. In fact, it was me speaking that still somewhat freaked his mom out, and myself. It was Brendon not talking at all that made the air so thick with just pure awkwardness.

“So…” I started.

“Oh, I’m just… thinking,” Brendon said. No one talked again for the rest of the meal. I always did tend to fuck things up a bit, you know? Adopting me was a bad idea because it would make everything too awkward between me and Brendon, and he knew it, too. Then of course there’s the fact that his mom hates me. Though, it’s not like I really HAD an alternative. What bothered me was the fact that I wasn’t even concerned with my father’s death. I was more concerned about myself. It made my stomach churn with guilt. Why should I feel guilty, though? After everything he’s put me through? Still, he is my dad. I should care, a little.

Ah, well, it doesn’t really matter anymore, anyways. The dead are dead, right? I shouldn’t waste my time on that.

Suddenly a car came rushing down the street. Could it be? Nah, I thought. Still, I found myself running over to the window to see who it was. Oh God, no. It was him. He was alive. The car was parked in our driveway, horridly, I might add. There seemed to be no sign of trouble. In fact, he seemed somewhat calm as he walked out and entered the house. I heard him calling my name, but of course I wasn’t over there. I stayed in hiding, below the window so he couldn’t see me.

What was I supposed to do? Just waltz right on in saying, “Hey dad, how you been? I’ve just been staying at the neighbor’s house kissing him passionately.”

Yeah, that’d totally make the cut. He’d probably beat me right then and there. I contemplated going back, but opted against it.

“Ryan? What’s going on?”

I pointed at the car in my driveway.

“Oh.”

There went his little idea. I was sure as hell he was really looking forward to that, though at least my dad wasn’t dead.

“What are you gonna do?”

I raised my arms with my elbows bent, hands stretched out in that I-have-no-idea sort of way. I flashed him a fake smile, hoping to save the moment.

“Well, at least he’s alive.”

He said it like he was disappointed. I sure as hell wasn’t. As much as I loved being here with Brendon 24/7, I really didn’t think it was the most perfect idea anyone had ever come up with.

“I… uh… thanks,” I said. I stood up and kissed him on the cheek. My arm was around his waist. We held each other like that for quite some time. Not talking, not really being super passionate. Just holding each other, not wanting to let go.

Suddenly, there was a frantic, pounding knock on the door. I recognized the heavy breathing on the other side. He was searching for me; I knew it.

“You hide. I’ll get the door.”

“No, your mom needs to get the door. He’d recognize you and know that I’m here.”

Just as we ran up the stairs, Brendon’s mom came hurrying to see what all the commotion was about. “What’s going on?”

“M-my dad is… at the door,” I spit out as Brendon and I scurried up the stairs like two scared little children running for our lives.