Sins of the Flesh

CHAPTER SIXTEEN-- The Father, The Son, and The Holy Secret

"Maybe miracles only exist in the movies." 

Weeks pass. Spring arrives and with it comes a warm breeze and the dawning of Maryland's glorious wildflowers. Their field looks prettier than ever and the cross around Oliver's neck glitters in the sunlight.

It's so calm out here, Blake thinks.

Everything is calm. Everything is right. Blake feels as if he's exactly where he's supposed to be in life. He glances over at Oliver, who's thumbing through his Bible, attempting to pen down a few notes for the Bible study he'll have with his mother later that evening. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and the wind whispers through the tall blades of grass. Blake smiles.

Last year, he would have glared at the sight of a Bible, thick and full of fairy tales that were the root of hatred. He would have scoffed at any Christian. He would have rolled his eyes at the sight of a cross.

Oliver Spade has changed him. There's no denying that.

Blake knows he'll never believe in God. He'll never believe in a divine power, an omniscient being that keeps an eye on every human on this planet.

But maybe he believes a bit more in fate. Maybe he feels like he's here for a purpose and maybe – just maybe – that purpose is Oliver.

"What're you staring at?"

Oliver's voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"You," Blake says simply, brushing a finger over the shell of Oliver's ear.

Blushing, Oliver sets aside his Bible and turns over on the blanket to face his boyfriend.

"Whatever for?" Oliver asks, feigning innocence.

"I think you were right," Blake says. "When you said that miracles happen all the time."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Blake nods.

"And what would you consider a miracle?"

"You," Blake says softly. "Just you being here with me, in my life, by my side."

Oliver stares at Blake with large, sparkling eyes. His breathing becomes shallow and he reaches out a gentle hand to touch Blake's cheek.

"Kiss me," Oliver whispers.

And Blake can't deny the small order. Without a second thought, he moves closer to Oliver on the blanket and their lips meet, soft and sweet, without a sound. They've kissed on this blanket in this field many times now but this specific kiss seems to mean something more. Here and now, it's like the simple action echoes their state of mind, the state of their souls; there are these invisible strands of light between them that have suddenly fused at the ends, connecting the boys to one another.

"Closer," Oliver breathes.

The ground is too hard below them, despite their trusty blanket, and the sun is setting which means they'll need to head back soon.

Blake thinks he's never been happier.

Or more in love.

----------

"You're sure you can't stay for dinner?" Blake asks a little while later when he and Oliver are standing on his front porch.

Oliver teases him with a smile and a shake of his head. "I had dinner here last night," he reminds. "I've got to go home and eat."

Blake sighs but he nods anyway. "I know. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll text you when I'm done with Bible study," Oliver assures, taking hold of Blake hands and stepping closer.

"Okay."

"Don't I get a kiss goodbye?" Oliver wonders with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Snorting, Blake smiles and rolls his eyes.

"I suppose," he says as Oliver wraps his arms around Blake's waist, pulling them together.

"Oh, you suppose," Oliver whispers, leaning his forehead against Blake's. "Are you tired of kissing me already?"

Blake giggles and rubs their noses together.

Is this what flirting is supposed to be like? If so, Blake can die a happy man.

"No," Blake answers. "Not yet."

"You're a brat," Oliver says with a smile on his lips.

The sun has died for the day but the porch light burns bright overhead. The street is quiet. All of the other families nearby have retired inside for dinner and there's no one around to see them share a quick, private kiss. This is the first time Oliver has ever suggested they kiss on Blake's front porch.

It's progress.

Their lips meet.

The front door bangs open.

Frank Whyler stands frozen, face expressionless, eyes darting between the two boys on his doorstep.

They had failed in disentangling themselves from one another in time to avoid getting caught. Oliver finally takes a step away, arms winding around his stomach as if he might be sick. Blake opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

"Well, I was gonna run out and grab something for dinner from the store," Frank says, "but I guess we'll be ordering in tonight. The main course will be an explanation with a healthy side dish of what the hell."

"D-Dad," Blake croaks out.

"In you get," Frank says, stepping aside.

A quick glance at Oliver reveals his boyfriend's obvious distress, but he follows Blake inside the house. Frank closes the door behind them.

"Dad, Oliver has to get home for dinner," Blake says quickly, willing to spare Oliver from this interrogation.

"I've got quite a mind to tell Oliver's parents about you two making out on my front porch," Frank says evenly. "Considering you've been lying to me all this time, sayin' you two were just friends."

"Please don't!" Oliver blurts out.

"You can't do that," Blake begs. "Please, dad, please don't say anything to them."

"I don't see why I shouldn't," Frank says. "They have a right to know who their son's dating."

Oliver squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers, completely distraught at Blake's side.

"It's okay," Blake says, wrapping an arm around Oliver's shoulders. "It's going to be okay, I promise."

"Calm down, kid," Frank says, finally taking notice of Oliver's distress. "I'm not gonna like, shoot you."

"P-please don't tell them, Mr. Whyler," Oliver pleads. "Please don't tell them."

Frank stares wordlessly at Oliver, taking in his trembling hands and the tears beginning to cascade down his face.

"There are parts of this story I'm missing," Frank declares.

"Oliver's parents don't know," Blake says.

"Obviously."

"No, I mean they don't know about him – about him being with another boy," Blake clarifies.

Eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline, Frank looks to be piecing the puzzle pieces together in his head.

"I see," he finally says. "Well...in that case, you know, I won't mention it to them. But," he adds quickly, "you two gotta know that I'm not cool with you kids dating behind our backs."

Blake nods. He can understand that.

"Can – can Oliver go home? He has to be home in time for dinner," Blake explains. "Just let me walk him to his car."

Frank opens the door and Blake leads Oliver out of the house and down the porch steps to his car.

"Blake," Oliver sobs.

"It's okay," Blake reassures him. "My dad won't say anything. I promise."

"What if he tells someone else and then that person tells someone else and-"

"He won't," Blake says firmly. "I'm going to have to explain everything to him, though. But he won't tell. He doesn't believe in outing people."

"What if he doesn't let me see you anymore?"

"That's stupid. After I explain, he'll understand everything. He won't keep us from each other, Oliver. He won't."

"But-"

"Hush," Blake says soothingly, holding Oliver in his arms. He rubs comforting circles on Oliver's back, attempting to calm him down because he knows he can't let him drive back home in this state. "Everything is going to be just fine. We'll be okay."

After a few minutes, Oliver's tears subside and he nods against Blake's shoulder.

"Go eat dinner with your family," Blake urges. "Text me when you're done with Bible study. Don't worry about this."

"I love you," Oliver whispers.

"I love you, too. I'll talk to you later. Just - just trust me," Blake says, opening the car door.

When Oliver finally leaves and his car turns at the end of the street, Blake heads back inside.

"Dad?" he calls out nervously.

"In the living room," Frank answers.

Blake takes far longer than necessary to walk to the living room. It's silly, really. After he explains everything, his dad will completely understand.

Right?

"I ordered Chinese for dinner," Frank says.

Nodding, Blake takes a seat on the sofa, facing his father's recliner.

"So," Frank says, clearing his throat. "Guess we need to talk about this."

"I guess so."

"How long have you two been...together?"

"It's – it's complicated," Blake replies.

"Really? I figured that was the simplest question I could start with."

"In another case, maybe. But Oliver's...it's different with Oliver."

"Okay. Just start from the beginning."

Blake takes a deep, steadying breath.

"When I met Oliver, he had never even met another gay guy in his life. He and his family are Baptists, like, hardcore Baptists. I told you that. He was always taught that being gay was a choice and he was taught that it was a sin and it was wrong. So when he found out I was gay, he had a lot of questions. For a while, he struggled with just trying to accept the fact that being gay was okay. He went and talked to a counselor, he had some Jewish dinner with Aliza and her dads and he talked to me a lot. I thought he was just trying to understand everything so he could, you know, keep being my friend. Just – just after Christmas, though, he admitted to wanting to be with me. He said he didn't understand why, he didn't understand how, but he knew that he loved me," Blake details.

"And...I'm assuming you love him," Frank states.

"Yeah," Blake admits, hanging his head. "I do."

"So you've been together since Christmas, then?"

"Well...before that, we – I mean – we had kissed. Spur of the moment things. So like, we knew there was some kind of attraction. But you have no idea how confused he was, dad. I mean, just...it was really bad. He was so quiet and he looked miserable all the time, like he'd been crying for days. I knew he wasn't completely okay with the idea of being attracted to another boy so I never pushed him. We never talked about the few times we kissed, we never talked about our feelings for each other. Eventually, though, I guess time was on our side. After Christmas, he admitted to loving me and after that...we just took things very, very slow. We held hands and went for coffee a lot. We never even kissed again until that night that he came over here and you met him."

"Well," Frank says gruffly, "at least you're being responsible."

"It's not just about responsibility," Blake continues. "We don't hold hands in public. We don't act like a couple unless we're alone. Nobody else knows, dad. No one at school knows. His parents don't know. He was initially very scared to meet you because he thought you'd ask questions he wouldn't know how to answer."

"But all I knew was that you guys were friends."

"Yeah, but he was terrified you'd have some kind of sixth sense and figure it all out. You saw how he acted when you walked out and caught us kissing. That's like, the most public place we've been where he actually wanted to show affection."

"Well it seems like you two are pretty solid, if you can handle all of that on your own. Don't you think maybe it's time he-"

"It doesn't matter what I think," Blake says, shaking his head. "Oliver is comfortable with me because I was there every step of the way. He's comfortable with me because he loves me and he knows I'll accept him no matter what. But his parents aren't like that. He told me once that his mom equated homosexuals with murderers."

A dark look settles on Frank's face. "Parents are supposed to love their kids no matter what. Christian or Muslim or Buddhist or whatever, they're supposed to love their kids."

"Well Oliver doesn't know if that will hold true if his parents find out. They could kick him out, dad. He just doesn't know. He doesn't want to risk being ejected from his family. When he's ready to tell them he's with me, then he's ready."

"When he's ready to tell them that he's gay, you mean."

"No," Blake says firmly. "Because that has nothing to do with it. Oliver might be gay, he might not."

"Kissing you on our front porch is pretty gay, Blake."

"It isn't about labels. It isn't about being gay or straight or bisexual or anything else with Oliver. It's about him falling in love with someone he's not supposed to love. Personally, yes, I think Oliver is gay. But that isn't my story to tell. This is about him coming to terms with who he is. The fact that he seems to have fallen in love with me is definitely in my favor, but I refuse to try and force a label on him and I refuse to force him into any situation that he's not comfortable with."

Frank's face softens as he looks at his son. Blake falls silent because he doesn't have much else to add to the story. He twists his fingers together nervously under his father's gaze.

"You've grown up so much," Frank says unexpectedly.

"I know," Blake nods. "I'm sorry I lied to you and said we were just friends. But Oliver was-"

"I get it," Frank interrupts. "I don't like that you lied to me, but I understand why you did. Fact is, I'm glad to hear that you're so dedicated and respectful to someone."

"You can't tell anyone," Blake says quickly. "Not even Lynda. And especially not Carson."

"Lynda wouldn't say anything, you know she wouldn't."

"I know. But Oliver doesn't want anyone to know."

"I don't like lying to other parents," Frank reminds him.

"I know, dad. But this isn't like we got caught doing something stupid or illegal. This is way more complicated."

"Well," Frank says just as the doorbell rings. "Guess it's a good thing I've never met them."

His father stands and answers the door, greeting the Chinese delivery guy. Blake immediately whips out his phone and sends Oliver one simple text message.

We're going to be okay. My dad understands everything. He won't say a word.