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A thick-knuckled hand slammed down on the kitchen table, and Mark Beaks recoiled against the hard wooden chair as his glowering father loomed over him, a faint trace of beer on his breath.
“You will regret the day--” David Beaks raised his other hand into the air and Mark braced himself, but the burly man froze as a chilling voice rang through the kitchen.
“David. What do you think you’re doing?”
Mark spun around. “Mom, I’m sorry, I--”
His father silenced him with a look. “I just caught Marcus lying about…”
“I don’t know or care what he did. You were about to hit him.” his mother said coldly.
“I didn’t-” David began, but his wife interrupted him.
“Marcus, go to your room,” Emma Glamour set her trademark white-rimmed sunglasses down on the counter and looked dangerously at her husband. Mark made no hesitation, but scurried immediately up the stairs. He shut the door to his room, then made his way immediately to his desk, where he booted up the Honeycrisp 2.0 desktop computer, tapping his fingers impatiently as a tiny sand-timer spun on the screen. His desktop appeared, displaying a messy conglomerate of little icons scattered over a pixellated background. He clicked his mouse a few times, then placed his oversized headphones over his ears, and turned the volume dial.
His parents’ voices came through, somewhat distorted but mostly understandable. He grinned to himself. For some reason, about two weeks ago, his dad had come home with a fancy voice-activated microwave oven. Of course it had been Mark’s job to set it up, and he had used his own computer to do so. A few edits to the source code and he could activate it to hear what was going on in the kitchen at any time. So far, he’d only used it to ascertain that the lower floor was empty when he wanted to slip down to the refrigerator for a late-night snack, but this is what he had really been hoping to do. He picked up a Rubik’s cube from his desk and idly twirled it through his fingers as he sat back in his seat, listening intently.
“Kids are supposed to discover their own interests, David! He clearly didn’t tell you because he was afraid you’d react like this!” His mother’s voice was quite clear, she must be standing very close to the microwave.
“But what kind of teenage boy would prefer Robotics club to the basketball team, anyway?”
“Marcus clearly does! He can barely even catch a ball, he hates running, and he’s small for his age! I know you want him to play sports, but we should encourage him to join a club that he’s interested in. And he’s good at computer stuff, David! He’s put together nearly all of your fancy new toys, why discourage him?
“You don’t understand, Emma! He doesn’t like sports, and you’ve seen some of his friends! Before you know it I’ll have a pansy-ass faggot for a son!”
There was a shattering sound, almost like breaking glass. Both voices were silent for a time.
“You did not just say that.” Emma’s voice seemed cool and collected, but Mark cowered in his seat instinctively- that was the voice she only used when she was really livid. “He’s only thirteen. If he’s gay, he may not be sure of it himself yet. And if he is, I plan to love him and support him when he decides he’s ready to tell us.”
“It’s not natural.” David’s voice was quieter now, but he hadn’t entirely backed down.
Mark had heard enough. He ripped the headphones off and threw the Rubik’s cube at the wall. Tears were welling up in his eyes, but he blinked them back fiercely. He threw himself down onto his bed, staring blankly at the poster of Hawk Solo on his wall. He rolled the other way and sighed. He’d never told anyone before, not even the anonymous strangers in the chat rooms in which he lurked, reading but not posting, trying to understand his feelings, figuring out if anyone else didn’t feel drawn to girls the way all the other boys in his class seemed to be. How had his parents figured it out already?
He wiped his eyes and moved towards his desk again. Painful as it was, he wanted to hear what they were saying about him.
He realized he didn’t need the headphones as his parents’ shouts began to carry up the stairs. He sighed. This had been happening more and more lately. His parents’ relationship had periodically gone through tense phases for as long as he could remember. But his mother’s recent promotion to Head Editor of the Lifestyle section of the Duckburg Daily seemed to have intensified things. Suddenly, she had to spend more time at work than at home. Suddenly, she was being asked to write short pieces for magazines for bigger publishers in bigger cities, moving in wider and wider circles as her work became more popular.
“WELL MAYBE ALL THOSE FASHION-POOFS YOU WORK WITH ARE A BAD INFLUENCE ON HIM. HE’S NOT BEEN THE SAME SINCE YOU TOOK HIM ON THAT TRIP TO ST. CANARD!”
“HE’S A TEENAGER! HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE GOING THROUGH SOME CHANGES!”
Mark sighed and sat down with his back against the door, folding his knees up against his chest. He had liked the publishing offices in St. Canard: towering buildings all shiny and metallic, filled with the distribution centers for all of the new ideas worth sharing. And his mother’s co-workers were fun! Not like all the guys who came over to watch sports games with his dad- big, hulking figures that always teased Mark for his scrawny stature.
Emma’s voice carried up the stairs again. She had stopped shouting, but spoke firmly. “I don’t need you anymore, David. I make a higher salary than you do. If you want to stay in my life, and in my son’s life , you’re going to need to make better choices.”
Things were quiet for a moment, then Mark heard the front door slam. His mother’s light tread approached his door and she knocked softly.
Mark jumped up. “Just a second, Mom!”
He leapt over the bed and turned off his computer’s monitor, before grabbing the nearest textbook, opening it to a random page and sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Come in.”
His mother opened the door and perched on the edge of the bed, looking at him softly. “Did you have fun at Robotics club?” He sniffed and nodded. She regarded his slouched figure and his bloodshot eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. “I take it you heard at least some of my... conversation with your father?”
He nodded again, avoiding her eyes, staring resolutely at the math problems on the page in front of him. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.” he muttered.
“Then can I ask you a favor?”
He looked up. “Yeah, mom?”
“Once you’ve finished your homework, go change the security codes on the front gate and on the garage door. And stay out of my office for a bit.” She put her sunglasses back on. “ Mommy will be on the phone with her lawyer.”