"I still can't believe you said yes," Preston remarked happily.
Antoine shrugged.
"I also can't believe you dyed your hair," Preston added, brow furrowing slightly.
Antoine shrugged again. That morning, he'd covered the traditional turquoise colour he'd worn for years with a deep midnight black. In direct sunlight, there was still a faint blue sheen to his mane. Antoine stroked his beard thoughtfully. "If half of what you've said about your parents is true, then I'm pretty sure they wouldn't go for teal, you know?"
Preston nodded. "Still, I never meant to make you dye your hair."
"I dye it regularly."
"I meant change the colour."
"Ah."
Antoine stretched his feet out and folded his arms behind his head. He relished the feeling of the heated seats in Preston's Cadillac CT6. Even though the cab was a comfortable temperature, the heat rising up along his back and legs reminded Antoine of basking in the sun. "I'm surprised we're not staying longer," he observed, glancing at Preston.
Preston shrugged. "There's only so much time my parents and I can spend together. Don't get me wrong, I love them, but it can be a bit awkward. We don't, eh, see eye-to-eye on things." The trip from Plateau City to Boston would take about three hours. Preston planned it out that he and Antoine would arrive shortly before dinner; then leave not long after. He took the interchange from I-87 to I-90, the Mass Pike, and passed through a toll plaza without stopping. Preston had an electronic EZ-Pass card mounted on his windshield, above the rearview mirror. It made travel more efficient.
"I'm not going to get a tour of your parents' house?" Antoine asked.
"Condominium; and no. Not this time. There are a few things I want to get out of my room, but we'll do that some other time, when my parents aren't there. I'll give you a tour then."
Antoine made a non-committal grunt.
They arrived in the designated guest parking spot at the condo at nearly exactly five in the evening, just as Preston had planned it.
Antoine glanced at the clock. "Right on time," he observed. "Not much for traffic. But I guess everyone's already having Christmas dinner, so, yeah. Just us on the road." He crammed his black watch cap over his equally black hair, and stepped out of the car, pausing to straighten his sweater and adjust the collar of the button up shirt beneath. "This wool itches," he complained.
Preston gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "You look sharp."
Antoine cast a quick look at his reflection in the car window. "I don't look like me."
Preston gave him a sympathetic smile. "Welcome to the wonderful world of my parents." He pulled a long coat out of the back seat and slung it around his shoulders. Unlike Antoine who had dressed mostly in greys, Preston wore a vest over a lavender dress shirt, and a pair of khakis. He wasn't vibrantly dressed, but for once he was the more colorful of the two.
"Don't feel bad," Preston encouraged as the headed up the front steps, passing through a polished door held by an equally polished doorman. "Thanks, Ramirez," Preston said softly, giving the man a nod.
"You know him?" asked Antoine as they made their way up the stairs. Preston insisted the stairs were actually quicker than the elevator.
"Ramirez has been here longer than I've been alive," Preston replied.
"Swanky," Antoine observed, glancing at the décor. "The ceilings are high."
"New England contemporary; originally a school house. That's why the ceilings are like this," Preston muttered as they quickly climbed to the top floor. The top hall only had two apartments, one on the east side, and one on the north. At the far end of the hall was the elevator. Preston paused outside a tall door recessed into the wall. He didn't bother knocking. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. After fumbling at the lock for a moment, he let them in.
"Mom, dad," he yelled as he stepped into the tile entryway, "we're here!"
"Come in dear," came his mother's voice from deeper inside the apartment. "Your father and I are at the table."
Preston slipped off his coat and hung it in the closet, then paused to wipe his shoes vigorously on the door mat. Antoine followed suit, eyes darting about. Antoine didn't appear nervous, but he wasn't at ease either. Preston was glad he'd come along though. It would make the evening go by quicker. His parents were sometimes a bit overbearing; and being the only child, Preston was the sole recipient of all their attention.
He led Antoine through the entry way, a comfortable eight foot in height. Once they stepped into the main room though, the room opened up. From floor to ceiling, it was easily fifteen feet. Antoine paused, eyes wide.
Preston barely noticed anymore.
The common areas of his parents' apartment used the original space of the classrooms, vaulted windows, high ceilings. The bathroom and bedrooms had ceilings of a normal height. A curving staircase off to the end of the combined living and dining room arced up to an open loft above the bath and bedrooms. Preston could feel Antoine at his shoulder, trying not to look around. Preston knew the square footage of his parents' apartment rivalled, and perhaps exceeded that of Antoine's house.
The coup-de-grace was the twelve foot tall live evergreen tree his parents had erected in the center of the living room. Preston tried not to roll his eyes as he joined his parents at the dinner table.
Antoine dropped into the seat across from him.
What followed next was the verbal dance of awkward, polite conversation; pleasant yet stilted. Preston's parents wanted to know how life was treating him, and inquired about Antoine, alternately talking to Antoine, and at other times about him as if he weren't there.
Antoine handled it all admirably, Preston thought. There was, however, the elephant in the room. Throughout his life, he'd never actually admitted his nature to his parents. Over dinner, uncomfortable as it was, Preston knew he couldn't keep avoiding the topic.
"Mom, Dad," he began slowly, during a lull in the conversation, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you."
His parents looked up. "Yes, dear?" his mother asked, giving her head a calculated tilt. It was her thing a little gesture she believed made her look interested and attentive.
Preston lifted his napkin off his lap and set it on the table. "I know you've both asked when I'm going to meet some nice woman and settle down. Mom, I think you even asked about grandkids last time we talked." Preston twisted his napkin nervously in his hands. "Well, that's not going to happen."
Preston's father gave a patronizing smile. "Oh, don't be so sure, Preston. You have lots of time to meet the right woman."
Preston shifted his weight. "I'm not going to meet the right woman for me."
"Don't be so pessimistic," his mother chided, reaching out and patting him lightly on the arm.
Preston moved back. "I mean," he said, glancing from his parents to Antoine, then finally down at the table, "that I'm not interested in women."
He waited a pause, to see what his parents would say.
After several uncomfortable moments, he looked up. "Don't be intimidated by them, Preston," his father said blandly. "You're just a late bloomer."
"Dad, I'm almost thirty years old. That 'late bloomer' stuff is ten years too late." He slid his plate forward and folded his hands on the edge of the table. "What I'm trying to say is… I'm gay."
Preston watched as his parents exchanged a look. His mother raised her eyebrows. His father give a subtle shrug and grabbed a roll out of the basket by his plate.
"That's nice, dear. It's good to be happy with yourself."
Preston took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He resisted the urge to rub his temples. "No… I mean, I like men." He tapped his fingertips on his plate for emphasis. "And yes, in that way."
Another wordless exchange passed between his parents.
Preston felt a surge of frustration. They always did this. Whenever he said something they didn't want to hear, they ignored it. It wasn't as if the topic of being gay had ever even come up in his household, not in support or opposition. In his parents' conservative views, there was only one sexuality: straight. Anything else simply wasn't discussed. Preston had expected some degree of denial from his parents. He hadn't expended them to be so blasé.
He took a deep breath. Time to try raw shock value. True or not, if these next words didn't get a reaction out of them, nothing would.
"I'm gay, I like men. Antoine's my boyfriend."
There was the clatter of a knife dropping on a plate. Antoine looked at Preston, mouth agape. He hastily regained his composure, gathered his knife, and mumbled a brief apology.
Preston's parents, however, didn't even bother looking up.
"Don't be silly," he mother remarked lightly, "men can't have boyfriends." She tapped her husband on the arm. "Would you be a dear and pass the potatoes?"
Preston suppressed a groan and sank back into his chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes.
"Are you going to want seconds?" his father asked casually.
Preston shook his head. "No, no. I'm good, Dad."
"Boyfriend?" Antoine exclaimed as soon as they were in the car. "When exactly were you going to tell me this?"
Preston sighed, and afforded his housemate a weak smile. "I know, Antoine. I was just… trying to get a reaction out of them, you know?"
"Prep, if anyone's in the closet around here, it's your parents." He cupped a hand over his mouth and mimicked the voice of Darth Vader. "Denial is strong with those ones." Antoine lowered his hand, placed it high on Preston's thigh and gave a squeeze. "Seriously though, boyfriend? You really think that?"
Preston shook his head. "No. I know you're not gay."
"Yeah…" Antoine's voice trailed off, his eyes growing distant for a moment. He glanced out the window at the downtown Boston scene sliding by. "You know, I'm better than some old boyfriend. I'm your best friend! Boyfriends come and go; but best friends? Those are forever." He tossed back his black locks and gave Preston a wink. "Believe me, Preppy, I'm not going anywhere. And, if I do, you're coming with me. I won't take 'no' for an answer."
Preston smiled in spite of himself. "Promise?"
Antoine nodded, beaming ear to ear. "For you, Prep? Absolutely."