The Bad Boy and the Other Bad Boy

Chapter 11

We sat side by side for what felt like hours. Finally my dad goes "I'll break it off. You can tell your mom. I'll face the consequences. "

I shook my head slightly, but he wasn't facing me. I didn't even know why I didn't want to tell her. I noticed that he didn't call her Gina.

My dad fisted his hands. "Shit. I'm sorry. That is so unfair. I'll tell her. "

An image forms unbidden in my mind. An image of Wilson's face - five years younger. Wilson with a swollen-shut eye and a purple mark on his jaw. Wilson limping into school, or stiffly climbing off of his bike. Wilson never letting us hang out at his house. 

"No, " I blurted. "Don't tell mom. Or - or - if you do, tell her to tell no one. "
My dad looked over at me, and suddenly he seemed old and tired.
"I can't do that, Rocco. I wouldn't."
"Well, I've to rethink what I thought you wouldn't do, Dad." My voice came out sharper than I intended, and we both flinched.
"Sorry, " I said quickly.
"No, Rocco. You don't have to be sorry for anything. I know about Lyli's husband. "

I sat very still.
"But I've realized that I have to tell your mother. I won't tell her that it was Lyli, however. "
"If you know, why don't you help Wils - her?"
He seems to collapse even further. "I have no proof, Rocco. She hasn't even told me. I just guessed. And your reaction proved me right. "
He buries his head in his hands. "Fuck, Rocco. I've ruined our family. Gina will leave me, like she should, but what about you and your sister? Your childhoods and all your memories will - will be tainted - " 

I laughed with humour. "I think my childhood is long gone. " 

My father also laughed, fondly, sadly. "Yeah. Your mother is - she's quite the slave-driver. " 

I didn't smile.

My perfect father, a cheater. My perfect father, who couldn't see the iron bounds his wife had put on me my whole life - to be flawless. I felt like I was watching him and my whole world shatter. Or maybe everything was coming together instead. Maybe I was beginning to understand that no one is good. An normal person would do moderately positive things, and moderately negative things. Maybe they were still neutral on the scale of goodness, however. And maybe a really good person would do really bad things. Like - like Ted Bundy. Wasn't he also a suicide hotline operator? And Ghandi - didn't he force young girls to sleep in the same bed as him? 

Like my father - the perfect family man, top-of-his-game surgeon, still handsome in his forties, loved by everyone he knew. 

His disloyalty was the devil's payback for him being so perfect. 

I felt like my head was whirling. I looked down at my father, sunken, wrought with guilt, having laid down all his flaws on the ground in front of me. 

The silence stretched as my heartbeat thudded in my ears. 

"I'm gay, dad, " I said in a rush, looking at the door as if I could burn through it with my eyes, blood thrumming. 

Nothing. 

"I think, " I added shakily. 

Even though my brain was exploding because that was the first time I'd admitted it to myself or anyone else, even though my body screamed to run out the door, even though I had no idea why I'd said anything in the first place - I felt empty, light, for the first time in ages. I hadn't even realised I was heavy in the first place. 

My dad slowly raised his face from his hands and turned to look at me. I force myself to meet his red-rimmed eyes, feeling buoyant and and bracing myself at the same time. I knew - I could feel his whole perception of me changing right then - and I couldn't blame him. My whole view of him had changed. 

He stood up to face me. "Huh. " He said. "Really. " 

I stared back. 

"Why did you tell me? " He asked. 

I paused, surprised. I hadn't expected him to ask me that. I don't know what I had expected. 

I chewed the inside of my cheek. 

"I think - because what you did was worse. Than being gay. You couldn't - you couldn't hate me for it. And if you did - you wouldn't be on a higher moral ground to hate me. " 

"Is that what you think I would do? " My father asked. His face was blank. "I would hate you?" 

I said nothing. 

He went over to the couch and sat down, then patted the space next to him. 

I went and sat. 

He was silent for a moment. Then "Dane. Dane - he was gay. " 

My eyebrows flew up. I took a moment to process this. How could Dane be gay? He was such a - such a guy. 

But isn't that what I thought about myself?

Another question occurred to me. 

"Is that why you kicked him out?" 

My father huffed a laugh. "No - you know why we did. But - Dane got mixed up with the wrong people in the first place because he was gay. He went out to gay nightclubs and underground parties, and gradually his lifestyle deteriorated. " 

My father took a deep breath. 

"Then he contracted HIV. " 

A chill went through me. 

"We couldn't believe it when he told us. I mean, wasn't that thing with homosexual people and STDs over long ago?" 

He looked down at his hands, turned them over. 

"But you have to understand, Rocco, that there is very little sex education in our society. For gays, however, there is even less. " He looked meaningfully at me. 

I choked. "Dad!" 

This was so weird. One minute ago I had just found out he was a cheater, and now my dad was back. 

I couldn't say I wasn't relieved, however. 

"And you know, Ambicton is a very small town. People here talk. People here are a bit backwards. Dane was outcast completely. So, he went to gangs and he worked for them. He needed money for treatment. He was depressed, Rocco, and had a tendency to look to drugs for comfort. He didn't have many friends, didn't have a boyfriend, didn't have family. We tried to be there for him - but in the end we couldn't endanger you or your sister. " 

My head was whirling again. Maybe I wasn't as smart as I thought - I couldn't grasp what my dad was saying. 

"Dad, " I heard myself saying. "Where did he go? Where did Dane go? " 

My dad took a shaky breath. "I sent him away to a hospital. I paid for his treatment - your mother doesn't know. Then, a few years ago, I got a letter saying he - he was deceased." 

Even after all these years, and after sensing what my dad had been leading up to, it still felt like a hammer blow to the chest. 

"Rocco, " my dad said, turning around to face me. "Don't ever compare being gay to what I did. I - " his voice shakes slightly  "committed adultery. You are simply attracted to the same gender. I have hurt people with my actions. You haven't." 

I looked down and nodded, twisting my hands together. 

We sat for a while. 

"Can you not tell mom? " I asked. 

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