said in a vague attempt to have the comment be under her breath but not really.
I lowered my cup, still empty, and placed it to the table with attitude. My mother gave me a look of disapproval.
“Snark does not fit you, Mother. Leave that for Gideon.”
The man at my side preened just a bit, the damn ass. “I am rather good at it.”
“There’s a difference between snark and honesty. I’m simply being honest,” Mom fired back. Dad tried to slip into the quickly escalating conversation with a joke about Batman and Robin running out of worms to keep fishing as Robin had eaten all the worms. “Also, I think this young man is not what you should be looking for in a life partner.” She used her butter knife to jab at Gideon as she spoke.
“It’s been a long time since someone called me a young man. I do thank you for that, Mrs. Griffiths, but perhaps you should leave the man picking to Evan since it is his life after all?”
“Oh mercy,” Dad muttered then tried another fishing joke which was flatter than the pancakes on Gideon’s plate.
I had to give my mother credit. She didn’t come unglued there in the diner. She simply sniffed, pushed to her feet, and excused herself to visit the powder room. The three of us men sat there looking at each other.
“Gideon’s right, Dad. I choose who I want to share my bed and my life,” I said on a hushed whisper. So far, we’d avoided too much attention, aside from the initial rubbernecking and gossip when Gideon and I had walked in. Keeping family discussions among just the family was much preferred to having a blowout over the bagels. “I know she’s having issues with him, but if I can forgive him, she certainly should be able to.”
Gideon sat at my side, looking contrite, which was a look that I’d rarely, if ever, seen on his handsome face.
“Give her time. It’s hard for a parent to move past disliking someone who brought your child great pain.” Dad’s sight moved from me to Gideon. “We understand why you acted out back then and are happy to see that you’ve gotten out from under a legacy that could have pulled you under. But a mother’s heart is a tender thing. When someone hurts their baby, they tend to never forget. Like an elephant. Give her time. Let her see that Gideon is treating you well now.”
“Why are you so welcoming to me?” Gideon softly asked, the bells over the door announcing more patrons. Bing Crosby singing about a little drummer boy drifted from the small speakers in the corners.
“Because everyone deserves a second chance,” Dad replied. I nodded vigorously. Gideon inclined his dark head. “Now, why don’t you two boys get a move on and go wrap presents and listen to kids sing. Mom and I will go home and talk a bit more. She’ll come around. Just don’t go and hurt our boy, Gideon.”
“I promise I will never hurt him again.” Gideon’s vow made me feel a soft stirring of something deep that I’d not felt in years. We did as Dad suggested, gathering our coats then making for the door. Several people called to me, and so we chatted here and there, slowly weeding our way through tables until we reached the front door. Myron had left I was happy to see. We buttoned our coats and stepped outside. The cold air froze the hairs in my nose instantly.
“Will this ever get easier?” Gideon asked. I looked up at him in confusion. “Being the son of the town bastard. Moving past my childhood, the things that I did. I knew it would be tough coming back here, but I never thought it would be this difficult.”
“You’re doing incredibly well.” I rubbed his arm. “She’ll come around. She will. Come on. Let’s go be festive.”
“And gay. Don’t forget gay.”
How could we? As the only two men dating other men in Cedarburg, Pennsylvania, we’d tend to stick out like a sore dink to quote Carson Oats.
The day went by pleasantly enough, but the incident over brunch clung to me. That night Gideon and I were at my home, him on the left end of the sofa listening to an audio book about neo-liberalism and fiscal conservatism that made him grunt and mutter under his breath. I was on the other end working on a speech for the Christmas Carnival next weekend. I wrote my