Love and Hate
Zac made it through the rest of his day on autopilot, trying not to overthink the gallery exhibit thing and all the ways it could possible go badly for him. In spite of his trepidation, he was happy. This was a sort of validation that he realized he needed; maybe he was capable of doing this for a living after all. At the very least, it was proof that he wasn’t as horrible an artist as he’d begun to believe.
When he finally made it home and stepped through the apartment door, he was greeted by the comforting smell of spaghetti. Sure enough, Taylor was—as had become his usual position, it seemed—leaning over the stove, stirring a pot of bubbling sauce.
“Hey,” Zac said, fumbling around in his bag for the letter. He held it up and gave Taylor a look he hoped was neutral enough not to give everything away.
“Hey, yourself,” Taylor said, setting down his spoon and stepping close enough to read the letter. His eyes brightened as he scanned the page. “Zac, oh my gosh! That’s great. I knew you’d win, though.”
“Of course you did. You and Melly are the ones who signed me up for it.”
Taylor blushed a bit, his expression turning sheepish. “We did, yeah. And I know we should have told you, but you can’t honestly tell me you would have been okay with it.”
“No, I probably wouldn’t have,” Zac replied. “And under other circumstances, I’d say that was proof that you did the wrong thing. But this? I… I don’t know, I think I needed it, but I wouldn’t have been able to come to that conclusion on my own. So you get a pass—this time.”
“I’ll take it,” Taylor said, smiling from ear to ear as he leaned in to give Zac a quick kiss. “Dinner’s almost done, if you’re ready to eat.”
Zac pulled back slightly. “Actually, I was thinking, umm, I should give Mom and Dad a call. I haven’t talked to them in a while, and I guess I should give them the good news—I mean, I won’t mention you or anything.”
“No, that’s fine,” Taylor replied, nodding. “I didn’t think you would. But of course, you’re proud of this, and you want to share it with them. It’s fine. I’ll just, umm, finish up the garlic bread while you do that.”
Zac gave Taylor a nod of his own, but didn’t speak. Of course Taylor wouldn’t like that idea, but Zac hadn’t and couldn’t just cut ties with the family who had never really mistreated him. It wasn’t that simple, regardless of what they had said and done to Taylor.
He closed the door to his bedroom before fishing out his cell phone and dialing their home number. After just a few rings, his mother’s always comforting voice came on the line.
“Hello? Zac?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied. “I was just, umm, checking in.”
“We were starting to get worried about you,” she said, a hint of a chuckle in her voice assuring Zac that it was mostly a joke.
“It’s been a pretty busy semester,” Zac replied.
“But things are going well?”
“I think so, yeah.” Zac cleared his throat. “I was actually calling because—well, I got accepted into this art gallery opening thing. They’ll have five of my paintings on display.”
There was an awkward pause on the line. “But surely that’s not something required for your degree? I mean, this is something extracurricular? I just don’t want it taking attention away from your classes, Zachary.”
“It’s not, Mom,” he replied. “I’m always painting anyway; you know that. It didn’t take any extra work just to enter them in a contest.”
“So you’re still on track? I know breaking up with Carly has been rough on you, but you need to focus on your degree. Are you still planning on taking summer classes?”
“I haven’t signed up yet,” Zac admitted. He didn’t bother mentioning that the deadline to do so was looming dangerously close. That was sure to end badly for him.
“Why not?” There was just a hint of accusation in her tone, mostly covered up by curiosity.
“I just think—I mean, there’s not a deadline here. I’ve saved up money from my summer jobs and my scholarship is decent; there’s no rush to get the degree done that quickly. And I think, I don’t know, it might help to take a little break. Avoid burning out.”
His mother was silent for a moment. “Okay, well, if you think that’s best. I do worry about you; I know this semester has been tough. Have you talked to Carly lately?”
“No, I—why would I talk to her? I don’t think there’s much left to say. She cheated, Mom. I’m not getting back together with her.”
“She just seemed like such a nice girl.” She sighed. “It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. I always thought she was so good for you.”
“Yeah, well, a lot of us seem like things we aren’t,” Zac mumbled. “Look, I need to go eat dinner and do some edits on the bibliography I have due next week.”
The bibliography bit wasn’t entirely a lie; it was only that Zac had just remembered that he probably needed to work on it before the due date went whizzing by. It was certainly a good excuse to get out of an increasingly awkward conversation, he reasoned.
“Okay, dear,” his mom replied. “Just keep us in the loop about your plans.”
“Will do. Talk to you later, Mom.”
“Bye, Zac. Love you.”
Zac’s mouth went dry, but the line clicked dead before he had a chance to force himself to respond.
It hadn’t, all things considered, been that awful of a phone call. He could hear his mom’s judgment, though, even when it wasn’t spoken aloud. He knew there was a line he was supposed to walk, and if he stepped off of it, he would only face more of that judgment.
It occurred to him that he was lucky he had followed his parent’s plan for him so closely up to this point. He knew what the result was if he didn’t. And that result was waiting for him in the kitchen, somehow still stronger and capable of surviving than Zac was.
He tossed his phone down on his bed and walked back to the kitchen. Taylor looked up from the table, where he was laying out plates fancier than any Zac thought he had owned. In all ways, it seemed, he just didn’t and wouldn’t measure up to his brother, but he was determined to try.
“Is everything okay?” Taylor asked.
Zac shrugged, grabbing the plate of garlic bread and carrying it to the table. “Could be worse. Could always be worse.”
“Look, if you need or want to talk about things, I don’t think you’ll find anyone who understands better than I do how their sort of love can be smothering and toxic.”
Zac frowned. He didn’t want to admit it, but Taylor’s description couldn’t have possibly been more perfect. That wasn’t exactly surprising, though.
“I’m not going to tell you to do anything,” Taylor said softly, hardly even looking up at Zac as he dished out servings of spaghetti for both of them. “Whatever you do, whatever relationship you have with them, it’s your choice.”
“What if you had a choice?” Zac asked.
“But I don’t.” Taylor looked up at him. “They made the choice for me. And I know they won’t change; if they were going to, they would have by now. I would have heard something, even one single word, from them in the last seven years. But I haven’t. If they could show me something, any proof that they didn’t completely disapprove of everything I am…”
Zac sat down carefully, his eyes trained on Taylor. He didn’t dare speak.
“Of course I want to have a relationship with our parents. Of course, Zac. I don’t hate them; I don’t even know that they hate me. I don’t think they would characterize it that way. Parental relationships are always more complicated than just love and hate. But right now, I just don’t see a way for it to happen. Not for me.”
Zac leaned back against the back of his chair. “I’m so sorry, Tay. I don’t know what else to say. I know I wasn’t responsible for it, but I was there. And I’m still there, still choosing to be in the lives of the people who—”
“Zac, no,” Taylor said, raising a hand to shush him. “I will never, ever blame you for what they did. And I don’t blame you for continuing to want their support and approval, because I know if it were an option for me, I would, too.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that I haven’t cut them off?” Zac asked, and almost immediately regretted it. He somehow doubted he would like Taylor’s answer, no matter what it was.
“You don’t want me to answer that,” Taylor replied. “But yes, it does. Does that mean I’m going to tell you what to do? Once again, no, I’m not.”
Zac nodded. “That’s fair, I guess.”
“I’m trying be,” Taylor said, a sad smile on his face.
“But seriously, thank you for going behind my back and getting me this—this amazing opportunity.”
“You’re welcome,” Taylor replied. “In any case, I figured you deserved something good in your life, too. Although with as much work as its going to be, I’m not sure this fashion show is such a good thing for me.”
Zac reached across the table to grasp Taylor’s hand. “Hey, you’ll be fine. This is your thing, right? Makeup, I mean. It’s what you do. So of course you’ll do great.”
“And painting is your thing,” Taylor replied, a hint of pinkness in his cheeks. “I’m so happy you’ll get the opportunity to show people that.”
“God, we’re sappy as hell,” Zac said.
“Yeah, but so what?” Taylor shot back, smiling. “I wouldn’t have us any other way.”
Zac chuckled, finally picking up his garlic bread and taking a bite. It was, like everything Taylor cooked, absolutely delicious.
Maybe things weren’t so bad, even if he wasn’t totally sure how he felt about Taylor and Melissa going behind his back. They had done it for a good reason, and the result was good, even if he parents didn’t see it that way.
His parents…
He knew Taylor wasn’t being totally honest. How could he not want Zac to cut ties with them? And how could Zac think that he could go on like this, never revealing to them that Taylor was in his life again? Of course, if they knew… if they even suspected he might be the tiniest bit like Taylor…
Well, that would decide things for him, wouldn’t it? It would hardly even be his fault. If they made their own choice, as they had with Taylor, then all Zac could do would be to live with it.
Maybe it would be easier that way, Zac reasoned. It probably wouldn’t feel much worse than continuing to lie to them about his sexuality to avoid the same judgment Taylor received. Taylor had managed to survive that, hadn’t he?
But Zac was no Taylor.
On the other hand, maybe he was closer than he thought. While Taylor told a story about mall fashion show horror stories, Zac smiled and laughed like he couldn’t feel his world beginning to collapse around him. Like he couldn’t see himself careening out of control toward certain disaster. He knew he was, and yet he wasn’t afraid. He knew, somehow, they would get through it together. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.