Kai's just getting it piled on

Dad was sitting across from me with a forced posture, discordant with his casual self. He even gave me a lemon sherbet to suck on, so I'd know he meant business, just like Grandpa used to do.

"As your old man, any advice I give will likely be discarded, but it seems irresponsible not to try."

"Then try."

I let out an audible slurping noise as I collected the candy juice on the tip of my tongue. Dad waited patiently for me to finish. So, I dragged it out for the heck of it.

"Done."

Dad put on his public voice, the one he used to con you into thinking he had his shit together.

"Kai, you should not hang out with that sleezy Italian. I know his type. You think you're his friend but really, you're just the butt of his jokes. He will never respect you."

"No. He's gross but he's loyal. I think."

Dad may have taken care to choose his next words wisely but came out sounding like a stoner stringing together odd thoughts.

"I really am talking from experience. I was that awkward kid. And I thought I was in with the gang but truly I was their mascot."

"It's not like that. They include me in everything."

"Wyatt's Dad was a guy like that. He was a jerk to everyone so when he singled you out to give you praise, you felt so special."

This got personal all the sudden. He spoke with a passion that led me to believe some of that resentment was fresh. Come to think of it, it had struck me as odd how dismissively Wyatt's father had spoken of mine, despite them supposedly being friends.

"After you and Wyatt finalise your divorce, I believe it's a good idea for you to go to regular school. A fresh start. Away from these types."

I frantically shook my head. Unable to fathom a world in which we were not one.

Dad placed a calming hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, what school does your buddy Takao go to?"

"Middle school, Dad."

"Right."

"And no need to jump horses. We are working this out. Wyatt and I are made for each other. I'm going to make him understand."

"Right. So, Wyatt doesn't need to know that you slept with his cousin?" He probed, instantly succeeding in making me sound childish.

"He's also his ex." I cocked back at him.

Dad paused.

"There is a lot to unpack there."

He could say that again.

"I do intent on telling him." I hurled, and just to make it sting I told him: "I'm not like you. I'm better than that."

Naturally, his instinct was to deny. But there was no secret about it, not after he had made me complicit. Used me as an alibi while out seeing his mistress. On his custody days! Worst of all he made me to lie to his then girlfriend to cover his tracks. Of course, I had paced together what was going on, but being a rejected child, I was eager to get in his good graces. Maybe if I was cool enough, he'd want to hang out with me?

"Let's take a walk, Kiki."

I refused to be lectured by a character with no moral high ground to stand on.

"No mention of Wyatt or your friends. I promise." He said joyfully, winking at me sheepishly, as through we were best buds, just being mischievous.

Dad had that quality about him where he could turn a tragedy into a blunder. Diminishing its significance. It was dangerously freeing.

Escape was precisely the poison I needed right now.

The air was heavy and humid. I tilted my head backwards to take in a breath, only to inhale a mouthful of whatever poison Dad was lighting up.

He was back to using his "epic news" voice, the one he used when he was stoked about something stupid and wanted to infect others with his energy.

"Within a second of walking outside a guy offered me crank. It's like a sign from God. Even you must admit that much."

"Running into a drug pusher is not divine intervention, it's how Eastern Europe funds its economy."

Dad held up a finger.

"Kai, that's a rather prejudiced thing to say. Haven't I raised you better than that?" He scorned me.

"No." I said factually.

"You're from this corner of the world. You should not be spreading stereotypes you wouldn't want to hear about yourself."

"I'm Serbian?"

He picked his nose, as though he hadn't dropped a bomb on me.

"I don't remember. It wasn't Serbia back then."

"Actually, this might be salvia."

"What?" I asked, some of the outrage making way for confusion.

"My weed."

"I don't care if you're smoking literal cancer spores. Let's backtrack. You told me I'm Russian."

"Eh, it's all a suburb of Russia."

He indulgently rolled the bogger he'd been working on between his fingers, then crudely flicked it into the air, not caring to look where it landed. A mystery that I did not have the luxury of ignoring, as it hit me straight in the face.

"Papa, what the fuck?" I cried out, clutching my hair, which resulted in it getting caught in my emo gloves. "Enough. You can't just drip feed me details about my origin story like you're giving me a spoiler free review of the Star Wars movies. This is my life. I deserve to know."

His mood brightened. For a lucky second, I thought my speech had appealed to him.

"The high just kicked in." He announced.

"How convenient for you."

Would there ever be a point when he would not see drugs as a way to get out of responsibilities? I sniffed, mostly because my glove had made my nose tickle. For once he picked up on my heartbroken demeanour. Despite being was oblivious, he was not cruel.

"Movies are a fitting comparison. For now, you know everything that's age appropriate, and once you turn 21, I will give you the R-rated version. Deal?"

21? Clear as day, he was buying time! Shamelessly. Even grinning at me like a used car salesman.

"I do not need or want a detailed description of my conception. Just the circumstances that led to it."

"The circumstances are a bit inappropriate. That's where the problem stems from."

"Please don't tell me I was a child of rape."

I was being dramatic, but for the briefest of moments, something concerning flashed across his face. The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, then, as if to cover up something big, he let out a contrived laugh.

All I could do was breathe a faint "No."

Dad sunk his gaze, pitifully.

I felt myself falling, but managed to catch my step, stumbling backwards against a young tree, snapping one of its branches in the process. I vehemently shook my head, ignoring the dizziness that arose.

Unbelievable! I knew he was messy and unreliable, but I had always believed him to be good at heart.

"Kai, it's not what you think!" He said with a sternness much unlike him.

When he reached for my hand, I whacked it away.

"Don't touch me."

I was a child of rape! That explained everything. Even why I was cursed to remain forever unloved.

"I swear, I didn't do anything." Dad said weakly.

"Well, what you are doing is implying that I'm the child of rape."

Tears formed in the wrinkles around his eyelids, in those exact crevices that formed when he smiled.

"I'm so sorry, Kai. I'd love to tell you that I never loved you any less, but I would lie if I said the situation did not affect me."

"Effect you? What about the poor woman you violated? My mother!"

Why was her identity concealed? Was she being silenced.

"Jesus Christ. Did Grandpa have her killed?"

"No. It wasn't that black and white. Things rarely are. I was in denial for many years. Until I reached the age she was when it happened. And it clicked into place. 16 seemed so young. So immature. How could anyone deny that? I foolishly loved her for treating me like an adult, but I wasn't one."

Overwhelmed by the onfall of information, it took me a moment to sort my thoughts. Once I patched the events into a coherent order, I grew even more appalled.

"She did it to you?"

I could not bring myself to use the r-word.

"It's not like she forced me, I was a pubescent boy, it did not take much convincing. In fact, I felt so lucky. Now I know that she took advantage of me. I don't think she is an evil person. Just an opportunist. She's had a hard life and worked her way up to where she is now. I think she just felt entitled to it. Part of her must have resented me for being born with riches. I think that's how she excused her behaviour."

Unbelievable. This was all so absurd. As hard as I tried, I failed to comprehend the significance of what I'd just been told.

Someone had exploited my dad. My poor Papa. Oh, what a burden he must have carried, keeping that secret for me.

"How much older than you was she?" I asked carefully, it felt almost rude to prod into his past like that. He was my dad, but he seemed like a stranger.

"She was 24."

Shamefully the first thing that popped into my head was: Only? What a relief. My mother was not a monster. No doubt my father had interpreted what had occurred as traumatic and that was a pity but objectively, he was being hysterical.

"That's not that bad." I said, semi-outraged.

Why rile me up for nothing?

"At your age it doesn't seem that way. It took years for the betrayal to set in."

Well, this was just what I needed. Granted, it was my fault for snooping, but even Dad should have known that this was the last thing I needed on my mind, with everything else going on. Maybe he would have averted it if he wasn't high. He was a rather decent parent whenever he wasn't inebriated.

Kicking up the dirt I let out a theatrical scream, a cataclysm of all my pent-up frustration.

"Son, I know that drama is your calling card in battle, but better not to do that out in public. People will think you're cray-cray."

I let out another howl at his despicable vocabulary.

Every time I walked through that cursed hotel's portals, I was a changed person.

With my emotions being as triggered as they were, I was unable to look at the situation with the distance that it required. The most sensible game plan I could devise was to simply wait until morning.

By the time breakfast rolled around I despaired as no such plan had fallen into my lap. Obligation drove me to show my face. That and a lack of a better excuse.

Wyatt was slouching at one side of a four seated table that he shared with Bryce and Drago, mopingly stirring his soggy cornflakes.

When he spoke it was so faint that it got entirely buried by whatever lively discussion Bryce and Drago were having, who seemed entirely unfamiliar with the concept of an indoor voice. I caught snippets of their conversation from inside the elevator.

"You must know somebody I can hire to cut his dick off." Bryce was shouting at Drago, whose puzzled look changed to one of comprehension when I approached.

"Oh, is for Slovenian femboy!"

He clapped his hands together with the enthusiasm of someone whose tests were graded on a pass/fail basis. Hard to tell if he was as dense as we treated him or went along with our antics out of respect for our culture.

"I'm not Slovenian." I jumped to correct him, before realising that was the wrong thing to focus on. "And I don't want my dick cut off either."

"It's not for Kai, it's for this asshole I hate! He screwed me, and he must be humiliated!" Bryce pathetically kicked the cabinet. It was made from plywood and therefore fell into a neat file. Drago looked impressed, whether by his country's craftsmanship or lover's strength remained unsaid. He tapped him on the shoulder approvingly.

For a fuckboy, he was surprisingly loyal and supportive of his bedfellow's absurd tempers. Better than I had fared as a husband.

"Me wrong person for that question. Ask Slovenian."

I wasn't sure if he meant me or if any Slovenian would do. Dreadfully, I did indeed have a contact.

"My old teammate Bryan would know. He'd probably offer to do it himself. He's twisted that way."

Bryce pulled out his trusted notepad in a jerky motion akin to an automaton. Upon closer inspection, half of the papers were wrinkled now.

"What's his availability like?"

"Dependent on whether he's locked up or not."

Wyatt cleared his throat. Oh right. I was supposed to talk Bryce down, not indulge in his revenge fantasy.

"Bryce, don't you think you're overreacting?"

I glanced at Wyatt who nodded in approval.

"Actually, I think my reaction is appropriate."

Well, I did my best. I tried to communicate this when I shrugged at Wyatt. He tensed his brow.

"How about you sleep on it."

"Is good idea, orgasm is like explosion of anger, but non-destructive, like soviet built missile."

That wasn't the "on" I had advised him to sleep on, but it would do.

"Yes. Have sex."

Drago gave Bryce an encouraging wink, and swiftly got to unbuttoning his trousers. Panicked, I dragged Wyatt by the sleeve of his T-shirt. If I could not get him out of here before he saw Drago's monster dong, I might as well lay down my arms.

"Easy ginger, one would think you're pulling an Enrique on me."

"I need to tell you something."

But Wyatt had something else on his mind and there was no room for my troubles. I decided to indulge him, owing him that much.

"Do you think I should call my parents?" He burst out suddenly. "What do I tell them?"

"That they had sex?" I asked inquisitively, trying to figure out what avenue he was going down.

"Frankly I doubt they would even care. Mom might if I tell her golden boy shaved his head and pierced his nipple."

I was in no position to offer input on his family matters. Once they learned the full truth, his family would want nothing to do with me.

The problem with silence is that people tend to project the answer they expect to hear. It's like putting up a mirror and making them confront themselves.

"You think I should do it."

No. It would end as a disaster.

"At the very least it will show him she still cares." I said, feeling obligated to play along. Be the supportive husband.

"What if he thinks I betrayed him. Is this the position I put him in when he got me expelled? I can't blame him, this is torture."

Unsure what I could add to that, I let my body do the talking, wrapping him tightly and rocking him in my arms as he sobbed into my shoulder.

"I'm stuck. It's like I'm defending a fortress in a storm and whenever I patch one corner, another gets exposed. What if all I can do is wait it out and rebuild once the damage is done?"

I patted his trembling forehead. His sweet heart was taking more damage than it deserved.

"Then you will be there for him."

Wyatt blew his nose in my armpit.

"I never appreciated how good he was at taking care of me. I'm not equipped for this."

"You will learn. As did he. Do you think he was born this way?"

Wyatt finally cracked a smile. "No, I thought him how to be a problem solver."

Then, he untangled himself from me, as though disgusted, but not with me. No. Himself.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have."

But I wanted him to. Cause for a tender moment we felt like a us again.

"Kai, you must be hurting right now, if you want me to make myself sparse just say so. This is your team."

No. It was his team. I had always been an outsider. Come to think of it, that was at the core of all my insecurity and unhappiness. At school I had known my place and felt confident in it. It wasn't until I left for the tournament where I began questioning my allegiance.

Mistakenly I had interpreted that as belonging to multiple groups. Turns out I had drastically misread the situation. Truthfully, I belonged on my own.

Emotions were swelling up, and I reached a point where I could not contain them. No longer did Wyatt feel like a safe person to share my vulnerabilities with. He was now an other. Someone working against me.

Running down the hallway quicker than it took him to call out my name. Wanting to hide, I draped my head in my scarf, inadvertently calling more attention to myself. Mostly by Enrique, who literally called for my attention.

"Have you told him?" He asked, shifting about on his toes, side-to-side.

I stared him down, briskly locking eyes with his. I'd never noticed how blue they were. Pale and cloudy, a combination that made him appear guarded. I could only assume he read the same in mine.

Unable to give him a satisfactory answer, I strutted away.

Once I reached my room that I, for now, still shared with Wyatt I scoured my bag for a novel or a magazine or something that would take my mind of the mess had become of my life. I was so deep in the shit it did not seem conceivable to dig my way out. Then, fatefully, my eyes landed on that something that could potentially get me thinking other thoughts.

The letter from my grandpa.

Well, I could use a break. Might as well be in prison.