It was closer to 7:15 by the time the boys got home. Moses’ father smiled softly as they came into the dining room.

“I was startin’ to wonder where y’all were,” he looked them up and down, “wow, y’all are soaked.”

Moses shuffled his feet sheepishly.

“Sorry dad.”

“It’s nothin’ to apologize about! As long as ya weren’t doin’ anything dangerous, I don’t care. Go ‘head an’ dry off, then help me set this table.”

Mal led him to where the towels were, and they went their separate ways to change clothes. Moses shook his head in confusion as he took of his wet clothes. It seemed like the more interactions he had with his father, the more he realized how little he’d actually known him. Growing up, his father had always been elsewhere, whether it was at some job he’d not be able to hold longer than 4 months or drinking with his friends or out with some woman Moses didn’t know. He simply wasn’t there, even when Moses was in his care. Sure, he’d come home occasionally, but Moses was mainly left to his own devices. He learned pretty quickly to be independent and self-sufficient. He learned how to cook, go grocery shopping, do laundry and dishes, evade CPS and fake sobriety tests for his father by the time he was 7. He then went to live with his mom, but was shortly returned to his father when he was 10, then went back to live with his mother when he was 14. In his infancy, Moses had lived with his grandmother, a gentle and caring woman. Unfortunately, she had passed away when he was 4, which led him to be in his father’s care in the first place. A lonely kid that no one seemed to care much about, an indifferent mother, an addict father, Moses had heard it all. He got to a point where he could tune it out, not care about anything, not even himself. If he cared about himself too much, he felt he’d be setting himself up for failure and disappointment. Then that led him back to his previous thought: why had his father now, of all times, decided to come back? Decided that he wanted to get clean. He wasn’t there for the previous fuckin’ years, why the hell now? Moses felt his throat burn as he remembered the gentle tone his dad had with him earlier. This isn’t fair. He pulled on his dry sweatshirt and began his trudge into the dining room, where Mal was already sat, the table completely set. Mal grinned as he saw him.

“There ya are, pretty boy! Thought ya got swallowed up by your room.”

“Ha ha.”

Moses rolled his eyes, sitting across from him. Mal nudged his leg teasingly with his foot.

“You’re so grouchy.”

“What’s it to you? Gonna tell me to lighten up or somethin’?”

“Naw. I ain’t your mom.”

“Thank God for that. You’d be an awful mother.”

Mal chuckled, his cheeks reddening slightly. He gave a look of such intensity Moses felt like he was looking into his soul. His eyes truly were mesmerizing. They weren’t just dark brown, they were completely black, but they were so bright at the same time. Looking at him was like looking into the night sky. His sharp features contrasted with his soft smile and full lips. His hair was still wet from swimming. Why does he have to be so perfect? This straight boy is gonna ruin my life! Moses’ father came into the dining room with 3 perfectly cooked filets of salmon. Moses peered down at the table, which was loaded with side dishes. The old man really went all out. 

“Wow, this looks good, Dean.”

“Thanks, Mal! I wanted to do somethin’ special for you boys tonight since we’re all together.”

“Well, ya did a bang up job! This salmon looks amazing.”

Mal and Dean dished out the salmon and the side dishes. Moses was surprised his father could cook so well, the last thing he remembered Dean making was a burnt poptart he haphazardly gave Moses during a drunken stupor. This is definitely a step up. Dean and Mal were talking, laughing, joking, like they had been old friends for years. It seemed they really enjoyed each other's company. Moses, in his mind, was the one who was out of place. He didn’t fit. Didn’t belong. They looked more like father and son than Moses ever did. It stung, and Moses quietly sat in his chair, waiting for his awkwardness to dissipate.

“So, Mal here was tellin’ me that you guys went to that cove. He never takes anyone there, not even me! That’s a real honor, boy.”

“I don’t take ya there cuz you’d complain about everything! ‘Mal, are we there yet?’ ‘Mal, the water is cold!’ ‘Boy, watch the damn road!’”

“Watch your mouth, boy.”

“I will when ya learn to match colors by yourself.”

“Hey! Low blow! Ya know I’m colorblind.”

“Colorblind or incompetent? Hmmm…”

Moses chuckled at the rowdy interaction between them. He felt more like he was watching a movie from the sidelines than participating in conversation, but this environment was free from hostility at least.

“So, Moses, you’re gonna be a senior this year, are you excited?”

“Lookin’ forward to gettin’ out.”

“That one’s gonna be a senior too. Y’all actually go to the same school.”

“Huh.”

He and Mal locked eyes again, and his chest fluttered. He couldn’t avoid it, but he had to push these feelings down. He doesn’t like men, and even if he did, he wouldn’t like me. Why would anyone want a loser like me? He’s not interested, he just wants to be my friend.

“I’ve never seen ya around. Maybe that’ll change this year. I hope it does.”

Don’t do that. Don’t give me false hope.

“I’ve heard you’re really smart. Ya take all honors classes or somethin’?”

“Yeah, mostly. ‘Cept for gym. I suck at that.”

Mal smiled again, touching his calf with his foot under the table. Don’t give me false hope.

“Moses has always been a smart kid. His mother was always sendin’ him off to tutoring and all that.”

“That’s awesome. Do ya wanna go to college?”

“Dunno yet. I dunno what I’d study.”

“That’s fair. I’m gonna go into physical therapy, but I haven’t decided on a college yet.”

Mal and Dean continued their back and forth banter again, and Moses looked down at his uneaten plate. I just gotta do this. C’mon, they’re gonna notice. Moses hesitantly started, chewing delicately and slowly, hoping his anxiety would fade. It wasn’t the food that was the problem for Moses. It was eating. He hated eating. It was like everyone was looking at him in that moment, and all the pressure was on him. He hated gaining weight, and so he didn’t. He stayed the way he was. It was a control for him, a way to gain some sanity in the whirlwind of his life, but he still felt the ultimate high of anxiety. Snap out of it already. You’re not gonna gain just by eating one meal. Damn it. His efforts were futile. There was no way he was going to finish his plate. He put his fork down, taking a drink of water to wash the taste away. Dean and Mal were still having their conversation, unaware of Moses and his plight.

“Dean, ya can’t wear those awful fuckin’ pants to your wedding, y’know.”

“Wedding?”

“Oh, my goodness, this old fart didn’t tell ya, did he?”

“Mal.”

His father gave Mal a look that said ‘stop talking’, but he continued.

“Dean is engaged. He proposed to his boyfriend a couple months back. It’s gonna be a little bit until the wedding, of course, but they’ve been planning nonstop! He won’t shut up about it.”

Boyfriend? Hell, scratch that. He was dating someone and now he’s engaged? What the actual fuck. Moses set his glass down, his face felt like it was on fire. He was pissed. No, beyond pissed. He was furious, and he had no idea why.

“Why…ya know what, nevermind. I’m goin’ to my room, I’ve lost my appetite. Thank you for dinner, DEAN.”

Moses stomped off, falling into the bed that was supposed to be his, but felt like it wasn’t. Nothing was his. Nothing ever was. Not a mother. Not a father. Not a home. Not a school. The only thing that belonged to Moses now was himself.