I rolled my eyes. “Oh, using a codeword will make it less weird and more easy to follow.” Following everything in my life is hard enough without double meanings.
“Think we could try son,” he said with a touch of panic. “You’re not even willing to try?” Realization came into his eyes. “No wonder you have problems—"
“Fine, just stop.” Now I was the one who sounded a bit panicked. Maybe he was right. Having an awkward sex talk might be a little less awkward if we called it something else and pretended we were just having a conversation about flowers or coleslaw… except not either of those things.
“Alright, well.” Dad searched his mind for a code and probably did not find the perfect one. “It’s like making a sandwich.” He turned to the fridge, like he was about to get visual aids or something, and I made an alarmed noise because just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, there were about to be visual aids, and he thought better of it.
I looked around. “Did you decide on sandwiches because we’re in the kitchen? We can move.”
“No, different people like different things on their sandwiches,” he carried on boldly. “Even if you’ve had sandwiches before, the next one is a new experience.” He seemed to lose steam after that. “Because there’s different toppings and, uh, everyone makes them a little different.” He was trying to give me advice, so I should probably try and relate that back to what I now knew the topic at hand was… I just couldn’t do it. I stared blankly and he continued, “Um. Let’s see. Your mom always likes mustard on her sandwiches and that’s something to keep in mind—"
I made a sputtering sound. “Is it? Please don’t bring Mom into this.” I sounded a little desperate. Pretty sure that even he got confused and was now talking about literal sandwiches instead of sandwich metaphors, but still, talk of Mom was not allowed right now.
“Good input, son. Good idea.” He carried on a little desperately. “Do you get what I’m trying to say?” Nope. There was a pause. "Hot dogs and sandwiches are different.”
Oh god. “Why did hotdogs come into this?” I sounded desperate too.
“Well, when I mentioned that lady or, uh, man we aren’t mentioning anymore it made me think about how you like mustard on sandwiches but not on hotdogs, so it always depends, and you can ask Ryan what he likes on his sandwiches because you’re cooking together.” He took a breath, like steeling himself, then continued. “And when it comes to, let’s call it, grilling safety… All hotdogs are different, I’d imagine.” He frowned. “Well, no, I wouldn’t imagine, but you might—”
“Dad—”
“There’s all beef, kosher, plump, brats,” he carried on. Was he confused again and talking about literal hotdogs? “And not all condiments work best on every kind.” Oh no, this was like sex safety or something. “And the same as whenever we go to the ballpark, it’s best to get your snacks first before the game starts.” He could mean it was important to be prepared and have what we needed ready. He could be talking about foreplay. Nope, I’m out.
“This is mortifying.” I wanted to open the freezer and stick my head in, but I doubted it would actually help with my reddened face.
“I’m having a great time,” he said sarcastically. I already had someone in my life who did sarcasm too, the same someone who did the other stuff and I didn’t need this either.
“Well, I appreciate the effort,” I said awkwardly. “Think that’s enough for today.” There was nothing left in my brain, the fire had raged while the emergency crews were too humiliated to do their jobs and now everything was just a charred pile of ash.
Dad looked at me for a moment and nodded. Thank god, this conversation could be over. I wanted to run from the room but he held up a hand, apparently having another thought. “I just want you to understand. No one cooks perfectly on their first try. Sometimes you burn the food. Just, you gotta follow the recipe.”
“There’s a book?” Should have mentioned that sooner! “You could have given me that instead of this conversation.”
I didn’t do a lot of reading, but Ryan had gotten me into Terry Pratchett books and I was proud to call him my favorite author because that made me feel smart, and he was the only person whose books I read for fun and not for school, so that made him my favorite. But I would have gladly read this book Dad was talking about now from cover to cover instead of this father to son chat.
“No, I got lost. There isn’t a book.” There was a pause. “Unless there is,” he decided, changing his mind. “You write it with your partner. So, that means you both have to be on the same page, looking at the same recipe.” Oh hey, he was trying to bring it back to food again. Solid effort on the metaphors, Dad.
Except I was just confused. “Is that a yes or no on the book?”
“Yes, metaphorically.” He looked just as confused as me. “This is really weird.”
I nodded in agreement and Dad gave me a look like, don’t be smart with me. Guess it could have been much worse. What if we were in his tool shed with saws and hammers and nails? What if we were in the garage and he tried to talk about how to make a partner’s engine purr? Could have been way worse.
“My point, uh, I just.” He regrouped and looked me in the eye like he was going to offer profound wisdom. I reluctantly met his eyes back because even though this might be the awkwardest thing to ever happen to me—and it was really crazy Ryan was only indirectly part of a moment like that—there was a time not too long ago when Dad had trouble looking at me and meeting my gaze.
“Life takes all kinds,” he continued. Eh, that wasn’t a great piece of profound wisdom but at least he wasn’t directly discussing sandwiches or sex. “That’s a lesson I’m currently learning,” he said quietly. Oh. He meant with me. “It’s okay when things don’t go the way you think they should go. That doesn’t change the important things. Just might mean you need a new perspective.”
A+ profound wisdom. Even when he said, “Just be considerate and listen and figure it out together.” It didn’t get super awkward again because his sentiment there still had me going all pleased and still inside. The emergency crews and townsfolk of my brain ventured outside, ready to rebuild.
“Okay,” Dad said. The moment ended and he looked away with a cough “That’s all. If I don’t make eye contact for a day or two it’s not because of you. I love you.”
I felt like I was dying the entire time that conversation happened. Once it was over, that was… still really weird but nice too. Dad was back in the game, or um, I don’t want to use metaphors at the moment. We were getting back to normal. We weren’t entirely there yet. Who knew? Maybe things would never be how they were before when they thought I was straight and gay was that distasteful thing that happened to other people in other towns sometimes but not them.
Life was different now. They had an ultra-liberal daughter, a bi son, and an angry, angsty foster daughter. Lily was still cute. But instead of disowning the rest of us and hanging all their hopes on their youngest, things were becoming a different kind of normal. Our new normal.
The embarrassment would fade. Sometime. My face would probably be red all day and I might never be able to be in the same room as my mom if she’s eating a hotdog, but I would get through this. All in all, that conversation wasn’t so bad. If there any doubt Dad still cared about me, well, I couldn’t think of any reason he’d willingly sign up for a conversation like that but love.
* * *
