Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind - Treebros

Chapter 33: "Bursting With Empathy"

Monday, April 22nd

Metal clinks against the ceramic plates, a part of the melody of sounds in the room, including coughing and the tapping of someone's foot, but not talking. No ones said anything since we all sat down around the table.

When I agreed to come over and officially meet Connor's parents, I didn't know how awkward it would be. I mean, there's no way it wouldn't be awkward. But I thought it would be forced laughs and filler conversation, not silence and nervous glances.

I want to say something. I want them to think that I'm funny and interesting and outgoing, and I don't want them to know that I'm none of those things. I want Connor's parents to like me because if they don't they might not let him see him anymore. And I'm a people pleaser. And I have anxiety. Which is just a wonderful combination.

"So, Evan. How did you and Connor meet?" Cynthia asks finally, her voice inappropriately cheerful. I appreciate it, though.

"School. Class. We had a class together. Uh, last semester. It was World History. No, World Lit. Sorry. World History was last year, sorry," I ramble, looking everywhere but at her. I smile to hide the fact that I'm gripping my knee so hard that I expect my nails to break through the denim.

"It's fine," she waves off, and I look over at Connor to try and get him to talk. He's staring blankly at the salt shaker. Fantastic.

"Any chance you guys are dating?" Zoe asks dryly, stabbing at the chicken on her plate. She knows why I'm here.

"Zoe-"

"I. Yeah. Yeah. We are," I answer, eyes locked onto Connor so that I don't have to look at Larry or Cynthia. It's quiet again. It's not my turn to talk, I know, but I'd say anything if it meant that the heavy, suffocating silence was gone.

"I told you," Connor says eventually, shrugging. His parents look at each other with unreadable expressions. Maybe I just don't want to read them. They knew he was bisexual so I'm not worried that they'll be homophobic. I'm worried that they don't want their son dating a boy with sweaty hands and bad posture.

"You weren't kidding?" Larry asks in a small voice. His guilt is apparent.

"No. I wasn't kidding. We've been dating for almost five months," Connor says condescendingly, like he's explaining something to a 3 year old.

"Oh." I must be going insane, because Connor doesn't look nearly as bothered by how terribly silent it is. Am I supposed to speak?

"Well, uh, you're in Connor's classes then, aren't you?" Larry asks, and I snap to attention.

"Some of them," I say.

"Do you know the boy who Connor got in a fight with?" he asks. My eyes widen.

"Dad!" Connor yells, glaring at him while Zoe drops her head and sighs.

"What?! I'm just asking!" I must have heard wrong.

"A fight?" I repeat. My voice is soft, but Connor flinches. He looks like a dear in headlights.

"Did you not know?" Larry asks. As if I didn't see the murky yellow bruises that are finally starting to fade. Connor won't look at me.

"Ev, stop," he warns, eyes boring intensely into space on the table between us.

"Connor." I can just barely see how white his knuckles are as he grips the edge of his seat. He lied to them. He lied to me. I had asked him what his parents said about his bruises. He said he told the truth. That he said he didn't know the guy, but he got beat up.