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Kipp tells the hostess he sees our party, and I follow his lead as we walk their way. Their gazes find us one at a time. First, his mother, her eyes widening and flitting down to our clasped hands. Next, his father, his head turning and an immediate glower jumping onto his face. Last is Vaughn, Kipp’s older brother. He looks excited, as if he gets off on making Kipp hurt. Maybe he does.
“Kipling,” his mother says in a hushed tone the moment we reach the table. “Mind yourself. Anyone could see.”
I assume she’s referring to our scandalous hand-holding.
“I don’t care if they see,” Kipp says, his grip bruising as he takes a seat. I sit beside him, making sure my chair is close.
“Told you,” Vaughn says with an air of haughty nonchalance unbecoming of a thirty-one-year-old. “He’s not even trying to hide his indecencies anymore.”
“Boy,” Kipp’s dad says sternly, seemingly unbothered by his other son’s comment. “You will cease this nonsense at once.”
“What nonsense?” Kipp says with a near-manic laugh. “Holding my husband’s hand?”
He raises our joined hands above the table for emphasis, and his mom turns a little pale.
“We raised you better than this,” she says quietly, her fingertips against the necklace on her chest. “How could you…defame the holy bond of matrimony?”
“There’s nothing unholy about being queer,” I put in, figuring, at this stage, we’re past the point of polite introductions. And honestly, Kipp’s family is pissing me off.
Vaughn snorts as his father looks right through me.
“This was such a mistake,” Kipp mutters under his breath.
“Are we ready to order?” a waitress asks.
“Another minute, please,” I tell her, since everyone else at the table appears to be in a silent standoff.
She nods before quickly hustling away.
“Kipling,” his mother says again, not even acknowledging me. “Were you coerced?”
“Coerced?” he asks in surprise.
She fidgets uncomfortably before holding her hand to her mouth, like maybe she thinks I won’t hear her. “We want to help,” she whispers. “If you were coerced, we can help you.”
“Help me,” Kipp repeats, his tone flat. He grabs his water off the table, downing it in three neat gulps.
“Yes,” his mother says. “You can get an annulment if you were…forced.”
“Oh my God,” Kipp mutters, setting down his glass and dropping his head into his palm. “Holy shit.”
“Language, boy,” his father grits out. “You will not take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Like he cares,” Vaughn says, waving a hand dismissively. “The little fruit is obviously going to hell. What’s blasphemy on top of it?”
I do my best to breathe through my sudden, overwhelming anger. This is Kipp’s family. These are the people who are supposed to love and support him. They’re the ones who should have his back, who should be accepting of the whole of him. Instead, they’re only here to condemn him.
Kipp warned me. I just didn’t expect…this.
But I suppose if anyone understands what it feels like for family to fail you when you need them most, it’s me.
I squeeze Kipp’s hand, trying to get his attention. He looks over at me, blue eyes devastated. Much to the audible horror of his family, I pluck his chin up from its downcast position and bring my lips to his. It’s short, just a press of mouths. But Kipp’s sigh makes it oh so worth it.
“Can I?” I ask, lips skimming his.
His eyes ping between my own for a brief second before he nods. Letting go of his chin, I turn to his family.
“Kipp is gay. That’s part of who he is, not a choice. But even if it was, I’d be proud of him for choosing it. For loving a person who makes him happy, even in the face of those who’d disapprove. Do you know how hard it is being out? How much strength that takes, even in today’s society?”
