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“Umm, what the fuck?”
Things one did not expect to find when they came home from closing their store alone was ones father and partner in business and in love hanging out in your room together. They were each arranged on a bed, thankfully Patrick on his bed and his Dad on Alexis’s. They had food strewn and worst of all no one really looked up when he entered the room, both of their eyes glued to the TV.
David’s intention had been to close the store, come home and enjoy an hour or two of solitude, possibly reading or possibly watching a Say Yes to the Dress marathon, before packing a fresh bag to bring to Patrick’s apartment. Instead, his sanctuary had been taken over in a most unpleasant fashion. Worse, no one seemed to care.
“Hey,” Patrick said, distractedly, frowning at the action on the screen.
“Oh, hey David.” His dad threw a quick glance towards him before focusing back on TV. “Do you want to join us?”
“Do I-“ David shook his head at that ridiculous question that he was certain they all knew the answer to. Instead, he focused on his boyfriend who hadn’t really looked at him since he walked in. “I thought you had somewhere important to be? Is that pizza? On my bed?”
Again, all David got was a brief look and then Patrick was right back to the television with narrowed eyes. “I did. It was rehearsal and then here with your dad watching the Jays game. And yes. You want some?”
“Of course,” David replied, again insulted by stupid questions. He put his bag down and strode to the bed. “But take the box off the bed, I don’t want grease stains on the duvet.”
Patrick didn’t look up at his boyfriend, did not greet hims with a kiss, but was instead craning around David to try and see the screen. “I put a towel under it. Stole it from the front desk.”
Of course, he did.
Was it wonderful and a little hot that Patrick was protecting his linens with cheap motel towels? Yes. Was the intrusion that had nothing to do with David and everything to do with stuff he cared nothing about the worst? Also, yes.
David knew it was petty as fuck, but he continued standing directly in front of Patrick while he flipped open the pizza box. There were things that were not to be endured, and that included the current treatment from his boyfriend. He darted in for a kiss but Patrick dodged left to continue watching the game. David’s kiss landed well off his mark and simply on Patrick’s cheek.
“Damn,” they said in unison. David knew he was the only one talking about the kiss.
The announcers’s droning voice gave way to the cacophonous sound of commercials. Finally, Patrick looked at David and placed his capable hands on David’s shoulders. The warmth lit up Patrick’s eyes and David felt himself melt a little.
Patrick’s voice was soothing as he rubbed David’s shoulders and said, “David, honey, I love you but you make a better door than a window.”
The actually meaning of the words crashed over him and David recoiled in horror. “Um, excuse me-“
“David,” his dad added calmly, not reading the room at all. David snapped his mouth shut, teeth grinding together and glare at his father. “If you don’t want to sit and watch with us, I know your mother would love some company. She’s working on the show and I know she would love your advice.”
What he wanted was to be left alone with the pizza, a tub of ice cream and Sandy. David stared wide-eyed, glancing between the two most important men in his life who seemingly did not care at all for the inconvenience they were causing in his life. The frown settled deep on his face.
“I’ll just be taking this,” David said, snatching the half a pizza that was left and strode to the connecting door between his room and his parents’. The TV had switched back to the game and no one even gave him a second glance. David set his teeth and swept through the connecting door. The announcer’s voice returned and there was no cajoling “Come on, David,” from his boyfriend’s lips.
“Oh, David, what a fortuitous turn,” his mother said brightly, looking at him for more than a brief millisecond. “Come look at this blocking with Mummy.”
David flipped the pizza box back open and lifted a delightfully cheesy piece littered with pepperoni. They were done perfectly, crispy cups holding pools of grease. David took a bite and savored the pizza that was not quite New York-Style but was as close as he got here in Schitt’s Creek.
He strode over to sit with his mother, sliding the box onto the table. He couldn’t help but send furitive glances back to the door, not paying any attention to his mother’s voice. He kept taking bites and stewing about the interruption in his schedule.
“What the fuck is that?” he blurted out.
“Stage blocking, David! I just told you!”
There were several pages littered in front of him with x’s and names and arrows. His mother had clearly been explaining, in detail, her plans for Cabaret.
“Mm, no.” David used his half eaten slice of pizza to point toward his room. “That! In my bedroom!”
“Oh,” his mother’s voice softened along with her face. She sent a look that David knew was primarily saved for his father at the door. “Isn’t it dulcet?”
“Is it?”
“Oh, yes. Your father invited your beau over to regard some...” She casted about the room looking for what it was they were watching. Eventually she decively ended up on, “Sport. They couldn’t view it in here, clearly, because I am quite swamped, so I sent them over there.”
A cheer went up and there was the sound of slapping. David tilted his chair back to peer through the connecting door and saw his dad and Patrick grinning at each other. They were both talking animatedly and pointing back to the TV. It was weird. The whole thing was weird.
“Okay.” David felt stupid for being mad that his father and Patrick were hanging out in his room, but he couldn’t shake the feelings. He picked at the edge of a pepperoni and peeled it off, leaving a cheesy crater behind. “I just think it’s funny that they play one softball game against each other and now they’re hanging out.”
David took another bite of pizza and chewed mulishly. Leaning back to put his chair back on two legs, David watched the duo in the other room. They were each sitting on the edge of their respective beds, hands clasped, leaning forward and squinting at the screen. The two of them looked like mirror images.
Oh, God! Was Patrick his dad?
They both laughed at the exact same time. Horror flooded through his body. What had he done?
“Sweetheart,” David turned to look back at his mother, who was regarding him with a very soft look. He didn’t like it. “This is a long-held bourne of your father’s. You and your sister never took an interest in sports. He built that whole chamber just to relish them in.”
David cast his mind back to the house they hadn’t lived in for years. He tried to picture what the hell she was talking about. Finally his brain settled on a space they had used for sleepovers and terrible movies, curled up with Alexis, and sometimes his mother if she had deigned to join them. “The one we used for lesser premieres and award shows?”
The decor in there had always been kind of tacky. David had always wondered why his mother had never redone it in her style.
“Yes, darling. But now, with dear, sweet Patrick, your father has a companion for his endeavors of reviewing sporting events.”
Another shout went up and this time it was not a happy shout but the sound of two men yelling at a box. David swiped another slice of pizza and tilted again to see them both pointing and shouting and then looking back at each other. Words like balls and count and blind were being thrown around in orders that made no sense to David.
Suddenly, a quick rap came across his knuckles, causing David and his chair to clatter back to upright. His mother just stared at him with bright eyes, holding a ruler in her hands. “Alright, enough. Let’s look at some costumes.”
“Oww,” David said, shaking out his hand. She hadn’t actually hit him hard, but it was the principal of the thing.
“Oh, David. Enough. It was a love tap. Now-“
David finished off his second piece of pizza and watched his mother file through the papers she had spread over the table. Another cheer went up from the other room as his mom began pointing at slips for the Kit Kat dancers. It wasn’t how he had intended to spend the evening, but it wasn’t the worst. He settled in for several hours of debates with his mother over various decisions for Cabaret, whether he wanted to have them or not.
A fabric swatch of particularly cheap poly blend was placed in front of him and David felt his lip curl. “Ugh, no. Not that. What are your other options?”