I shut the door and sat on the couch. It was quiet.
I didn’t move until the door buzzer sounded about thirty minutes later. My dad was at my landing, Maggie too, grinning her big silly dog smile with her tongue hanging to one side.
“Hey, Pop.”
Dad walked inside and pulled me into a hug immediately. “How are you?”
I wrapped both of my arms tight around him and shrugged, not trusting my voice.
“Did Neil leave already?” he asked next, patting my back.
I nodded against him. “Yeah,” I croaked. I reluctantly let him go, took his jacket, and hung it up.
“Was this your dinner?” Dad asked, picking up the plate of half-eaten pizza. “I’ll make something.”
“I’m not that hungry, Dad,” I said, following him.
“Hey.” He stopped and turned around. “Kiddo, believe me, I know what you’re going through.” He smiled and squeezed my arm. “Let’s see what you have to cook.”
Maggie followed us into the kitchen, her tail wagging happily. She sat, watching my dad toss out the shitty pizza, and then looked up at me, like she couldn’t believe he’d let that go to waste.
I scratched behind her ears and asked, much to my own horror, “Why can’t I keep a boyfriend?”
My dad turned from the fridge, giving me a critical look.
“Dad, I’ve just ended my third disaster of an attempt.”
“Can you even count Marcus as a boyfriend? It was your first year of college.”
“He counted,” I insisted. “And Brian was a jerk, and Neil—”
“Wasn’t healthy for you, Seb,” he offered quietly. “A man who can’t love himself can’t love another person.”
That was the thing about Pop. Didn’t matter if you were gay, straight, bi, whatever your flavor was, there was nothing he cared more about than making sure you were content with yourself above all else. Sometimes I wondered if he considered me a failure in that respect. I always ended up being tossed aside or committing to something less than what I was worth, according to him.
I looked down at Maggie. She was mesmerized by my ear-scratching. “I fucked up so hard, Pop.”
Realizing I had nothing remotely decent for dinner, my dad went to his go-to: grilled cheese and tomato soup. He pulled that card whenever I was down, and throughout my childhood, it had always worked to perk me up. But now, thinking about the fact that he had to resort to it—depressed me.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Sebastian.”
“Yes, I did.” I kept staring at Maggie, ashamed to look up. “I… want Calvin.” When I heard him stop moving around, I dared a look up.
Pop was watching me. Eventually he said, “Yeah. I figured.”
“What?”
“Seb. I’ve seen you go through a few relationships now.” He turned the burners on and set the buttered bread down. “I’ve never seen you in love.”
“I loved Neil.”
“Maybe the concept of Neil, but I don’t think you really, deeply loved him,” Pop answered. He put some slices of cheese down and completed the sandwiches before pouring some soup into a pot. “But I saw your face when Calvin was at the hospital yesterday, and I saw how he looked at you.”
My heart started beating hard and fast, making me feel a little sick. “Dad, I’m not, God no. I’m not in love with Calvin. I’ve only known him a few days.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then you know how stupid—silly, that sounds,” I corrected.
