“Sit,” his father says. His mother flees the kitchen.
“I have to take—”
“She’ll wait,” his father says. “Sit down.”
Reese sits, wary. He and Dad haven’t been getting along for a long time, but he’d thought that at Thanksgiving there’d be peace, at least for the night. “Yeah?”
“How’s it going? Living with her.”
“Good. It’s all good.” Reese turns the mug in his hands.
“You find a job yet?” Dad digs into the pie with his fork, chewing steadily without looking away from Reese’s face.
“Not yet. I’m looking into some bank loans for school, though. And I have a lead on some part-time work.”
“You’re living off her? She supports you?”
Reese frowns. “Well…yeah, I mean…I’m going to get work, Dad.”
“But until then, you’re the housewife?” His father’s disgust is clear in his tone.
Reese goes cold inside. Then hot. His throat and cheeks burn, but he keeps his voice steady when he answers, “I take care of things around the house, yeah. Corinne goes to school and works.”
“Pussy.” Pie flecks his father’s lips and clusters in the corners of his mouth.
Reese looks away. “Don’t.”
“She has you trotting to and fro, bringing her coffee and pie? What else does she have you doing? Folding her panties?”
“Sometimes wearing them,” Reese replies, voice cold and hard and sounding somehow distant, even to himself.
He means to be shocking. To stun and hurt his father. It appears to have worked, because Dad’s mouth works, but nothing comes out.
“I thought you’d just be happy I’m not gay.” Reese wants to get up from the table. He wants to take Corinne’s coffee to her and sit there while his family laughs and talks; he wants to play a killer game of Spoons and then have another piece of pie. He wants to go home with the woman he loves and sleep beside her and wake up in the morning, and if she asks him to do a load of laundry, he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever she asks. “I don’t expect you to understand. But, Dad, it’s not your business.”
“It’s disgusting.”
Reese flinches, though the words are no surprise. “I love her. I want to make her happy. That’s all.”
“I love your mother, and I want to make her happy, but you don’t see me prancing around in her underwear!”
“Reese?” Corinne is paused in the doorway, looking concerned. “Hey, is everything okay?”
“You ready to go?” Reese stands, leaving the coffee on the table.
Corinne’s look of concern changes to surprise. “Sure. If you want to.”
“Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s go.” Without a look at his father, Reese ushers her out through the family horde, weathering the hugs, kisses, and goodbyes. In the driveway, he holds out his hand for her keys and slides into the driver’s seat, although it is Corinne’s car and she usually drives.
“What happened?” she asks as he steers them down the long, winding country lane toward the main street. “Did you and your dad have a fight?”
“Something like that. Nothing new. It’s fine.” Tight-lipped, Reese switches on the radio so they don’t have to talk.
At home, she tells him to go take a shower. He doesn’t want to. They showered just before leaving for his parents’ house. He’s not dirty. He and Corinne face off in the bedroom; Reese feels alternately hot and cold. Itchy in his skin. He wants to pace.
“I told you to do something,” Corinne says sharply. “But feel free to keep arguing with me, and see what happens.”
He can’t stop himself from arguing. He keeps thinking of his father’s words and the look of disgust and disappointment on his face. “I don’t want to take a fucking shower, Corinne! I just want to go to bed.”
She gives him a cool shrug. “Fine. But you’re not getting into bed with me without taking a shower first. Go sleep on the couch. No. The floor.”
He pauses. She means it, he’s sure of that. She teases him sometimes, sure, but right now there is nothing but calm steadiness in her expression as she stares him down.
He does not have to obey her. He could, in fact, force his way into the bed, and there’d be very little she could do to make him get out of it. They both know, though, that he won’t do that. Breathing hard, angry, his nails biting into his palms, Reese sneers.
“Fine. I’ll take a fucking shower.”
“Go.”