Page 79 of Switch Hitter

And for the first time since I met Sean O’Malley, loving him means staying exactly where I am.

FOURTEEN

SEAN

The kitchen is quieter than the rest of the house. Well, not completely quiet, because the dishwasher’s cycling through a load. On the counter, my mom’s favorite little clock ticks, and the smell of ham and brown bread still hangs in the air from dinner.

My father walks around me, still silent, and heads straight to the coffee pot. He takes down two mugs from the cabinet, pours, then slides one toward me.

“Thought you could use something warm,” he says.

“Thanks.” I mumble and pick up the cup.

Neither of us says anything for a while. I’ve faced ninety-eight mile-an-hour fastballs with less anxiety than whatever this is.

Dad stares into his mug.

“Look, Sean… when you sent that text…” he begins. “I realized I’d already decided who you were bringing home before you ever got the chance to tell me.”

I nod slowly. “I wasn’t trying to blindside anyone, but when you said “her,” everything inside me felt wrong. That was the easiest way to let it out.”

“I can understand that.” He scratches at his beard, looking for words. “I just…” He sighs. “Well, I suppose I just spent years picturing your life one way.”

His eyes finally meet mine.

“And now I’m trying to catch up.” He chuckles nervously, “You kids don’t make that easy. Always throwing curveballs at us.”

My throat tightens. “I’ve been trying to catch up too.”

He looks confused. “How do you mean?”

I stare into my coffee for a second.

“I’ve known something was different about me for a long time.” I laugh quietly. “I just got really good at ignoring it.”

He waits for me to keep going. My father’s always been the type of man to hear someone out completely before adding his two cents, so his silence doesn’t make me think he’s judging me.

After a moment I sigh and shrug.

“So…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Have you always liked women… and men?”

There it is.

Not polished.

Not perfect.

Just a father trying to understand his son.

I nod. “Yeah. I’m bisexual.”

The words settle between us, and he doesn’t look disgusted. There’s no look of disappointment, so I keep going.

“I’ve always been bisexual,” I continue. “Meeting Emiliano didn’t make me this way. He just… made it impossible to keep pretending I wasn’t.”

Dad’s shoulders sink a little. “I wondered if maybe…” He shakes his head. “If maybe this was because of him.”

“No.” I meet his eyes. “This is because of me.”