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“Hey, guys,” my mom says, pulling the two of us into a hug. “Thanks for letting us hang with you on a Friday night.”
I give Thomas a side hug and then watch in total disbelief as Emery pats him on the back. It’s one of those awkward man hugs, but the way Thomas clears his throat makes me think that he’s close to tears from the meaning behind it. I’ve never seen Emery make such an effort with him before.
“Hey,” Emery says, not meeting his dad’s eyes. “Glad you could be here.”
My mom grasps onto Thomas’ hand and squeezes.
“How is it, rooming together? Is it working out?” she asks us, moving the conversation along.
I grab some glasses from the cabinet and fill them with water.
“Yeah, we get along great,” I say and Emery snorts as he gestures toward the table.
“Who can’t get along with August?” he asks. “He’s a dream. Nicest person to walk the earth. Jesus is like,I can’t compete.”
She laughs at that and Emery beams and fuck, if it isn’t hard to not reach out and pull him into me. I need to tell her. I’m going to tell her. After dinner. Quite possibly after dessert. But for sure, tonight.
I have to.
My mom and Thomas each grab a plate and begin dishing up. When we are all seated at the table and eating, Thomas says, “I wanted to talk to you about something….”
My mom shakes her head, “Thomas, we said after dinner.”
Emery sets his fork down and looks at his dad, then my mom, and then me. “You need to tell me now or else I won’t be able to eat any of this. I have anxiety. It’s a thing.”
Thomas looks sheepish and then says, “Sorry, I should have waited, but it’s just…I met with your mom.”
I reach over and grab onto the back of Emery’s neck and squeeze gently. I don’t care how it looks. He needs this. My mom eyes my hand, but then just glances away.
“She said she was coming around all those times because she wanted to talk. She’s working the steps in her NA program and wanted to ask for forgiveness for everything.”
“Never,” Emery whispers and Thomas clears his throat.
“Yeah, so I told her that. She won’t bother you again. She knows about the restraining order and has promised to stay away. And if she doesn’t, talk to me, okay? I want to protect you.”
Emery meets Thomas’ gaze and says softly, “Thanks, Dad.”
Silence permeates the entire room and that word, that one simple word, sits heavily between us. Thomas is just staring at his son and Emery shifts nervously in his chair. My hand falls away from him and I fiddle with my fork as we all just awkwardly stare at one another.
“Fuck, I need….” Emery finally mutters and then scoots his chair back and slips out of the room. Thomas is blinking furiously, his hands clutching onto the tabletop.
“I think…give me a second,” I tell my mom because it looks like they need a chance to process this. So, I follow Emery down the hallway and into our room.
“Em,” I say when I see him pressed against the wall, his head in his hands.
“I made it weird, huh? Should’ve waited to drop that bomb. Been practicing it with Dr. K all week, but I never figured out the best time to blurt it out.”
“No, it was great timing,” I say, grabbing onto his hands and peeling them away from his face. I tilt his chin so he’s looking at me. “Thomas loved it. He’s probably crying into his pasta right now.”
Emery huffs a choked laugh.
“That man looks at you like he couldn’t be prouder of his son. He just doesn’t know how to go about telling you. But you’re giving him a chance. You both deserve a chance.”
“Yeah,” Emery sniffles. “He’s been trying. I can see it. He hasn’t missed one family therapy appointment and all of this with…her. I didn’t expect him to be so helpful.”
I brush a thumb over his cheek. “That’s how parents are supposed to act. He loves you.”
Emery’s dark eyes meet mine in the shadows. “I think he does too.”
