The table went silent, and only the screechy clink of Rus’ knife and fork hitting his plate could be heard.
Chelsea and Yazmin snorted, turning to each other and whispering.
Miguel smirked, leaning closer to the table. “Oh, do tell.”
“Huh?” Rus blinked a few times, then scrunched his face, unsure of himself momentarily.
Dylan grimaced, let out a sigh, and twisted his frown into a slight smile. “You have quite the opinion.”
“Quite the opinion indeed,” Jasmine added, eyeing Dylan.
He so rarely brought people to the house, finding the presence of acquaintances could be difficult for the teens to cycle through. If Dylan brought someone to the house, they were a true friend. Or at the very least, a proper donor. In years past, he’d only ever brought Kaiden around the house, and it helped that Jasmine knew him before Dylan had even met him.
Kaiden was an easy sell around the house. He was polite, soft-spoken around large groups, and kept his opinions PG-friendly. And sure, the teens were all about vulgarity when the mood hit, but the point of being an adult was not to fan that behavior. Or so Dylan believed.
Of course, Rus would have a strong opinion on any controversial subject with the vocabulary of a sailor.
“Please elaborate,” Jasmine insisted.
Rus chewed on his pork chop, taking his time.
“The phrase unhoused is designed to shift the blame of homelessness away from the individual and focus on the socio-economic factors,” Rus explained, already losing Dylan a bit. “Great in theory. If that were the true agenda, I could almost be on board. Unhoused is supposed to remove the stigma. But why the fuck would a homeless person care about the stigma?”
He paused, silently apologizing for his profanity with a soft expression directed toward Dylan.
“Perhaps the unhoused population who seeks to pull themselves up and would prefer to avoid harmful stereotypes,” Jasmine added, answering Rus’ rhetorical question.
“Yes, but unhoused carries its own stereotypes. Worst of all, unhoused is deliberately designed to diminish the horror of homelessness and make it more palatable to those throwing around terms the majority of them have never experienced.”
Jasmine locked in on this. Dylan studied her curious expression, the way her shoulders eased. In one simple statement, Rus had shifted Jasmine from going on a polite offensive to a calm dialogue, one where she’d listen with interest. Jasmine never bulldozed into an argument. She explained to Dylan years ago that the only way she could engage in a healthy dialogue with someone who opposed her was to lead themto her argument. Anything else and she’d be deemed hostile, aggressive, unhinged, loud, and so much more. So, Jasmine worked twice as hard to subtly approach her point on a topic. Of course, this didn’t come with every conflict, simply the ones she needed to win for the sake of Dorothy’s Home.
“People who use the term unhoused aren’t trying to give more humanity to homeless people; they’re trying to wash away the bitter taste the word homeless leaves in their mouths. They don’t like the guilt it carries, the way they benefit in a capitalistic society while ignoring an entire population of people every day,” Rus explained. “It’s easier to disregard them, create stereotypes on drug abuse or crime, anything that shifts the blame to them—the homeless population. It also helps to assume they’re all con artists, pretending to be homeless while panhandling a nice 100k tax-free salary every year. Yes, there was a rare instance where that happened once for certain, so let’s assume the worst in every single homeless person.”
“Well, that’s quite the tangent,” Jasmine said with a light laugh. “You seem quite opinionated on the subject.”
“I’m too opinionated on too many subjects,” Rus said, tearing into a piece of his pork chop. “And I easily get off topic from time to time. The point is, unhoused is just gentrifying our vocabulary to make wealthy people feel less uncomfortable when they discuss unsavory topics. This is partly because of social media and algorithm suppression. For example, saying killed as opposed to the absurdly palatable term unalived. Saying graped because let’s ruin fruit and turn SA into a rhyming punchline. Even mentioning race or queerness of any kind knocks a post down. And don’t get me started on how cringey it is to even say PDF since these internet assholes banded together. Apps have trained us to edit our language or risk losing our voice altogether, but that’s a whole other story.”
“I’d be very curious to hear more about it,” Jasmine said, taking a sip of her drink. “Perhaps at a future dinner.”
Rus nodded, then returned to his plate. Dylan smiled at him, smiled at Kaiden, and took an easy breath.
Miguel leaned over to Dylan and whispered. “My future short king is on fire. Even got Jailor Jazzy’s approval.”
Dylan sighed. “It’s never happening.”
Miguel tsked and rolled his eyes. “Wishing on my downfall only makes me stronger.”
Shortly after dinner, Kaiden bid his farewells and left for work, while everyone else set up for game night. While Jasmine would gladly drag everyone into the living room to play board games, card games, and anything else family-oriented, she often reserved the game nights for rare occasions. At most, a once-a-month event.
“Hope you’re not too competitive,” Dylan whispered. “The house rules kind of get chaotic with these games, and winners are sort of determined on who can argue their point the best.”
“Sounds like my kind of game night,” Rus whispered in response.
“Thank you for coming.” Dylan lightly pressed his knee against Rus’ and sank into the bliss of sharing a little piece of his home with someone he cared about.
Chapter Twenty
Kaidenspent the week on cloud nine, practically floating into the gallery every morning despite working an additional twenty-five hours a week in retail hell and dealing with Alison’s incredibly sour mood. She rarely smiled leading up to events, and the impending Thanksgiving gala served as a way for the super elite to celebrate in style while also being charitable.
