CHAPTER 17

[ Noah ]

"Why are we going to Grandma's?" I had questioned the moment Dad said it. The last thing I had expected him to say on a Friday night were those words, considering that it was no family secret that he and Grandma didn't get along. He never gave me a clear answer, just something about wanting to get away to clear his head. So needless to say, the very next morning, we got up bright and early to drive to Grandma's house that was about an hour and a half away.

We didn't talk much for most of the drive, mostly because there was an obvious elephant in the room that neither of us wanted to talk about. But after minutes and minutes of palpable silence, I figured I should try to fix their relationship while I could. Dad didn't want to listen to Poppa, but maybe he would listen to me.

"I miss Poppa," I said softly. It had been three whole days since he left. Of course, he called me everyday after school to see how I was doing, but it wasn't the same as seeing his face.

Dad's grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he didn't respond.

"Why'd you have to send him away?"

"Because, Noah," Dad answered in a strained voice, "your father and I aren't together anymore."

"That's not fair," I said with a slight pout as I crossed my arms over my chest. "Just because you don't want him around doesn't mean I don't."

Dad kept his eyes glued to the road, but I noticed the way his whole demeanor seemed to change at the mention of Poppa. "You'll get to see him. Once this whole thing is settled and he finds a place for himself, then you can visit him whenever you want. As of now, however, you're my responsibility, so you go wherever I go and you do whatever I do."

"What if I don't want to be your responsibility," I tagged on quickly, slightly surprised at myself for having the courage to say something of that audacity. "What if I want to stay with Poppa?"

"I'm afraid that's not your decision to make," Dad countered.

Drawing my eyebrows together in confusion, I turned to stare at the side of his face, taking note of the way that he refused to look at me. He wouldn't even glance my way. "Why not? Why do you get to make all the decisions? Why do you get to decide whether or not you want to be with Poppa? Why don't we have any say? Poppa's trying so hard to show how much he loves you and you won't even love him back."

Dad finally turned to look at me. It was only for a second, but it was better than nothing because it meant I had hit a nerve. His chocolate brown eyes burned a darker color with all the hidden emotion in them. "Of course I love him. I'll always love him, but we're just not meant to be."

"Why not?" I continued to question because I had a hard time believing that my parents weren't soul mates. Before Dad landed in the hospital, he and Poppa were virtually inseparable.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," he commented with a dismissive shrug as he clicked the radio on and turned the volume dial slightly, clearly indicating that he didn't want to spend any more time on this issue. "This is grown-up stuff, Noah. Just stay out of it," he ordered in his infamous strong, authoritative voice.

As I slumped into my seat, I directed my attention out the window and watched as we zoomed past all the other cars on the highway. I forced myself to stay silent for the rest of the drive in fear of making Dad angry; instead, I got lost in my thoughts which, at the moment, were about Michael and his inability to put himself in my shoes. He was easily amused (I understood that) but I couldn't grasp how he could just not care about my feelings. That wasn't the Michael that I had spent hours on the phone with or had gone on a date with.

I contemplated texting him. If there was anything I knew for certain, it was that Michael was one hell of a listener and I would have loved to talk to someone other than Holly about everything that was going on at home. I almost gave into the temptation to talk to him, but I stopped myself once a mental image of him and Nicolas entered my mind. After everything that we've been through, after we had went through all that trouble to make a pact, he just had to go against it.

To make matters even worse, he had to assume that I was moping around because of what he said to me like he was the be-all and end-all of all suffering.

And to think that I was actually falling for that jerk!

Numerous top 100 hits and several naps later, we finally arrived at Grandma's place in a small, cute neighborhood that was coincidentally filled with tons of old couples. I had always liked going over to Grandma's house because she absolutely loved me, but we didn't get to go very often because of the strained relationship between her and her son. To further prove the obvious animosity between them, Grandma gave her son a judgmental glare as soon as she opened the door to greet us.

Her dark eyes landed on me and her lips stretched into an elated grin, exposing her laugh lines. "Oh, my little baby!" She threw her arms around me to bring me into a hug that was sure to last more than a minute. "You've grown since I last saw you. Christmas, was it? Look at your hair, it's getting longer! Oh, I just missed you so much."

Reveling in the her comforting old-person scent, I hugged her back. "I missed you, too, Grandma."

When she finally had enough (which was an exaggeration because I knew that she was going to continue the embrace later on) she released me and stepped back to look at her son. "Hello, Jay," she said with a slight bitterness in her feathery voice.

"Mom," he retaliated with just as much dryness.

Even though they hated each other, their personalities were quite similar. They both had a tendency to believe that they were always right and they were both prone to black and white thinking—everything had to be done their way. Come to think of it, that was probably why they couldn't get along. They also had a striking resemblance to each other because my dad inherited her chestnut brown hair and dark brown eyes.

Even though she was in her mid-60s, Grandma still looked good because she always dressed to impress, regardless of whether she had an audience or not. I remembered when Grandpa told me she had been the fashion icon back when they were in high school.

Grandma stepped backwards into the house and ushered us to come in and make ourselves at home. "How are you, Jay?" she asked once we had situated our bags in the living room that had been suitably decorated with old photographs and knick-knacks. "Still having those nightmares?"

Dad shook his head. "Not much."

"Hmph," she hummed, "well, I guess, you can thank your little ... husband ... for what happened to you. I told you that this would happen, Jay, but no one wants to listen to me. What do I know? I'm just an old lady."

Dad strolled into the kitchen and took it upon himself to rummage through the pantry to find something to eat. "It wasn't his fault," he noted.

Grandma scoffed. "It's always his fault. He's the one who made you gay. He's the one who made you fall behind in school. He's the one who cheated on you. Need I say more?"

Dad's posture stiffened, and then his eyes narrowed at his mother. It was also well known that Grandma didn't approve of Dad being gay. It was that little fact that kept me from coming out to her because that meant that she would treat me the same way she treated my dad.

He looked like he had something to say, but he just looked to me instead. "What do you want to eat, Noah?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Grandma cut me off. "Oh, no! You don't come to my house and cook my
food! Sit down, I'll make something for my grand child."

Judging by the way Dad kept biting down on his bottom lip, I knew he was holding back something. To my surprise, he managed to keep whatever it was bottled inside and obeyed his mother's instructions. He found a place next to me on the sofa and gestures towards my backpack. "You brought your homework, right?"

I nodded.

"Okay," he said with a smile. "Do you want any help?"

"I can do my own homework," I said, which sounded way worse than I intended it to be.

He nodded and raked a through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. "Well, how about you start working on it? Grandma and I have to talk about something."

"Don't send him away!" Grandma yelled from the kitchen. "I never get to see him and you're already forcing him to do homework. Leave him be."

He rolled his eyes. "Mom—"

"Don't argue with me, boy," she instructed as she pointed a wooden spatula at us. "Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell me in front of Noah."

Dad gave me an apologetic look before saying, very quickly, "Ian and I are getting a divorce."

We were both surprised at Grandma's reaction: she dropped the spatula and looked at Dad with bewilderment as her hands fell onto the groove of her hips. "You're kidding," she said. "No, tell me you're kidding. Why would you even think of doing something like that?"

Dad was confused, as was I. "So when I marry him, you get angry and when I divorce him, you get angry? There's no winning with you, is there?"

"I was angry because I didn't want you to live a life of sin! But now that I've had time to accept the fact that I won't see you in heaven and now that you've been sinning for 18 years, what's the point of a divorce? Trust me, I hate Ian more than I hate paying taxes, but he's Noah's father and the boy needs both of his parents."

I couldn't really decide if I agreed with Grandma or not. It was obvious she didn't approve of gays, but at the same time, it was apparent that she cared a lot about her son and me.

But Dad refused to buy into what she was saying. "You said it yourself—everything is his fault. Why would I stay married to someone like that?"

"Because you love each other," she answered, "and as unnatural as it is ... you're supposed to do anything for the one that you love. I wish it'd be that really nice girl that you dated in high school, but I'll settle for Ian if I must."

Dad shut his eyes. "I didn't date her," he said through clenched teeth. "She was my partner for one school project."

"Whatever." She whipped back around to continue preparing breakfast for us and I found myself internally smiling. Maybe Poppa and I weren't able to change his mind, but Grandma definitely could.

And that was one of the reasons why I loved her so much.

*           *

      Dad and Grandma didn't talk about the divorce for the rest of the day. They did, however, argue with each other over things that happened in the past because that's what they did best. I, on the other hand, spent most of my day doing homework and smiling at the chance that my parents had now that Grandma had knocked some sense into Dad. I thought about how amazing a wedding to renew their vows would be, especially since they hadn't adopted me yet when they got married the first time.

I passed some of the time by talking to Holly over the phone where I told her the good news. She was just excited as I was, and then she started to talk about all the exciting stuff she was working on for the play. She had mentioned that  she would need to try a few makeup looks on me for my role as Belle and I reluctantly agreed.

Halfway through our conversation, my phone rang to signal that I had another incoming call. My heart nearly stopped in my chest when I saw Michael's name stretched across the screen. I didn't know what to do in that moment—part of me wanted to ignore him, but part of me wanted to speak to him to share the news. I figured that I shouldn't answer because I didn't want to forgive so easily and I probably wouldn't have answered if it hadn't been for Holly's persistence. Taking a deep breath, I said, "Hi."

"Hi," his voice was soft, delicate, even.

Silence. I didn't have anything to say to him.

"Noah?" Michael asked after a dull moment of silence. "You didn't hang up on me, did you?"

I sighed. "No, I'm still here."

"Okay, good..." He paused, "...it's nice to hear your voice." My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip. He couldn't just say stuff like that and expect me not to develop feelings for him. He cleared his throat after some time. "Right, well, um, I should probably start by apologizing ... what I said to you and what I continue to say to you ... is really, really insensitive and heartless. I don't know why I ever thought it was okay to treat you like that."

I raised an eyebrow, somewhat intrigued by where he was choosing to take this.

"I took some time to reflect on my actions and I've come to the conclusion that I acted the way I did because ... I'm scared, Noah."

I frowned. "Scared of what?"

"Scared of us," he breathed, "Scared of where having feelings might take me. Scared of allowing myself to like someone romantically because in some way or another, everyone always tries to find a way to hurt me."

"Mike, I would never do that to you," I told him, truthfully.

There was a slight pause. "That's actually the first time you've ever called me that."

I could feel my cheeks getting hot. "Oh, sorry."

He laughed lightly and it succeeded in making my stomach flutter. "I haven't had much luck when it comes to love if you haven't already noticed ... I just want things to be right, so maybe you can help me with that?"

"How do you want me to help?"

His next words came as a surprise to me, "I would like you to be my boyfriend." Suddenly, it felt as though my heart was being squeezed and it was just seconds away from bursting into a pool of blood. It was becoming harder to breathe, the more I tried, the more air escaped my lungs.

"Oh my god," Michael continued when I didn't respond. "If you reject me, I will literally die of embarrassment."

"No!" I protested once I found the words to speak. "I'm not rejecting you—I'm, uh, yes! I would like to be your boyfriend, too." It took everything in me to not break into a fit of squeals.

He sighed in relief. "Thank God. That makes me feel so much better. Do you wanna go somewhere tonight?"

"I'm at my grandma's house for the weekend," I notified him, silently wishing that Dad hadn't suggested this little trip.

"Another time, then," he said. "How do you feel about paintball?"

My lips stretched from ear to ear. "That sounds great."

"Then it's a date!"

"It's a date," I repeated. "Um, thanks for the call, Mikey. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. I'll see you on Monday?"

"Yeah," I agreed just before we said our goodbyes and ended the phone call. As my body became overwhelmed with so much emotion, I fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling in a dreamy manner. Could this day get any better?

Then, without warning, Dad tiptoed into the guest room and offered me a friendly smile. "Hey," he greeted me just as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "That's good."

"Are you reconsidering the divorce?" I questioned, slightly hopeful.

He looked away from me. "Uh, yeah, I am. I'm not sure what to do, though. We've been through so much together that it feels wrong to leave him over something so stupid, but there are quite a few issues we have to resolve."

"Marriage counseling," I suggested.

Dad looked reluctant. "Maybe."

I was filled with so much excitement that I felt the sudden urge to open my heart to him. "Can I tell you something, Daddy?" I asked as I tucked my legs under my bottom and bit my lip in anticipation.

He smiled. "Of course."

"Um, well, I don't really know how to say this, but ... I have a boyfriend."

His smile dropped in the matter of seconds. "What?"

Seeing his sudden shift in mood made me slightly worried, but I continued for the sake of getting all this excitement off my chest. "I'm gay, Dad."

Dad stared back at me with his intense brown eyes for a very long time. Then, of all the things he could've possibly done in that moment, he laughed. "No, you're not."

I frowned. "Yeah, I am."

"No!" he shouted. "You're not!"

"Dad..."

He started to hyperventilate. He was trying to breathe, but it was almost like he was struggling to find air and the strength to do so. This had happened quite a few times before right after he was released from the hospital. It usually occurred after a painful nightmare of the night he got hurt.

"Dad!" I shrieked as I grabbed onto his arm to shake him out of it. His body was trembling and his breathing quickened at the contact as he fell to the floor, his body convulsing with every short breath he took.

"Oh, no," I voiced in pure despair once I realized that I was the source of his panic attack.

Such a perfect ending to a perfect day.

**

a/n: Okay, so now the secret's finally out and Dad didn't seem to like the news... and I'd also like to inquire about the previous chapter. A lot of people couldn't access it which has me worried because Wattpad always messes everything up, so if you're having trouble reading the last chapter, PM me for a link.

So ... What do you guys think of Jay's mom? And it looks like Mike and Noah finally became official! How do you feel about this? Remember: this story is far from over.

By the way, I finally got around to counting the inline comments on the chapter before last and the winner is @GonnaReadYouSenpai. Congrats!

Thank you guys for reading this chapter! If you enjoyed it, give it a vote and leave a comment!

Until next time,
Lara <3