Home Is With You

32 • Racist Peas In A Pod

Jeremy's pov

It was silent in the car as Homer and I sat in the parking lot. I still felt the crumpled paper in my hand with his number to it. I never expected that I would see him again. I held all this anger towards him but I simply froze. I knew that Homer had questions for me and I appreciate that he isn't asking me. Instead he's just simply holding my hand and rubbing my thigh.

"That was him, wasn't it?" He asked softly. Nodding I hand Homer the paper he gave me. Watching as he opened it I catch a glimpse of a series of numbers. "This fucker is crazy." Homer grunts as he hands me back the paper.

"You know you were right about adult having fears. I always thought whenever I saw him I would go ape shit. But I didn't. I literally froze up. I'm pathetic." I sigh my arm covering my eyes. "You're not pathetic. You were in shock. Besides that fucker has a lot of balls thinking you're going to call him. I'm not having it. Now we are going home, I'll run you a bath and cook you dinner." Homer grunted rubbing my thigh soothingly  as he started to drive back to his house

"Thank you Homer. Really." I murmur as I lean over the console kissing his cheek. Sitting down I sigh as Homer drives back to his place. "What are you making tonight?" I ask. "I was thinking some chicken parm pasta." Homer say with a shrug as he parks in his driveway. As I bring in the groceries I watch as Homer runs my bath and cook dinner.

Going straight to the bathroom, I strip my clothes, before slinking into the tub. I sigh as I tilting my head back relaxing my body. Thinking about that paper I groan. I know I shouldn't call him and knowing Homer, he won't let me call him. Hearing footsteps near the tub I open my eyes seeing Homer with a glass of wine.

Looking at Homer oddly as he usually doesn't watch as I take a bath. "I know but this gives me a excuse not to search for the fucker." Homer grunts making me chuckle. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, I pull him in for a kiss.

Melding my lips to his, allowing him to slip his tongue in my mouth. Combing my fingers through his hair I moan softly as he slightly pull my hair. "My hero." I jest. "Damn right. Now lets get you out of this tub." Homer said as he got me a towel.

Drying off, I put on deodorant before getting dressed in one of Homer's shirt and shorts. Walking in the kitchen I fill up my glass once more before making Homer's and I bowl. "Smells delicious." I murmur.

Meeting Homer at the island, we sit down to eat. "This is good." I hum. "So you're saying every other time I cooked it wasn't good?" Homer grunted playfully. "Whatever. I mean you and Georgia seem to actually season your food. I've always heard that white people don't season their food. But you and Georgia can throw down." I said chuckling.

"When our mom was little. She had a nanny and that's how she learned to cook." Homer shrugged. "Well her nanny did miracles in the kitchen. So I know you probably haven't. But am I the first black person you've dated?" I asked curiously. "Yes actually. My dad was a big time racist. Thank God, I didn't gain the quality. I think that's why he sort of pushed me to marry my ex wife. Her parents and my dad were like best friends. They were like three racist peas in a pod." Homer grunted rolling his eyes.

"What about your mom?" I asked frowning slightly. "She made sure to keep Georgia and I away from their bigotry. She told me on her deathbed, that's life too short to not be happy. She said the only good thing that came out of marrying dad was Georgia and I. I loved that woman with all my heart." Homer sighed as he grabbed my hand.

"I'm sure she's happy for you. What was Georgia like when you were younger?" I ask him. "You know how she says stuff like Debby downer or negative Nancy. She got that from our mother. While I got my tendencies from dad. You know growing up when I was younger I always thought mom was happy with dad. But it wasn't until I was sixteen that I first seen him hit her. I came home early from school and they were in the kitchen. He was yelling at her over something. One minute he had slapped her so hard she fell on the floor. The next minute I had pushed him away and I was standing in front of her. I was ready to fight my own dad that day. After that I watched dad like a hawk around mom." Homer shared as he held my hand.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm glad you defended your mom though." I smile softly. "Yeah Georgia and I had a traumatic childhood. That's part of the reason I don't want kids. I know alot of time people with trauma and they pass it on to their kids." Homer says as we finish dinner. "Understandable. I'll wash the dishes tonight." I say softly to him as I grab all the dishes going to the sink.

Washing them, I rinse them off before putting them in the cabinet. I felt Homer rest his head on my shoulder as his arms circled my waist. I remained silent as I continue to do the dishes.

"It's been awhile since I talked about my childhood or mom with anyone except Georgia." He sighs. "It's alright.. After I finish this we can go to bed. Sound good." I say, recieving a nod. I quickly finish up the dishes before I lead Homer to bed holding him close.

Homer has helped me so much through the time we've spent together. For once I wanted to be able to help him.